A Winemaker’s Last Party

How a simple backyard ritual became the perfect farewell.

Welcome to a newsletter themed at the intersection of longevity and wine history. 🍷

2005: The family gathers around Mario Gemello at his 89th birthday party.

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Mario Gemello lived for parties. My grandfather, despite being of average height, had a boisterous and charismatic personality. He commanded an audience, always equipped with a joke or story.

I once asked him why he ran for president of his social clubs, like the Kiwanis or his local winegrowers’ association.

“So, I can control the meetings and tell my jokes,” he said.

He learned the winemaking trade from his father, John Gemello, who launched the Gemello Winery in January 1934. Prohibition had just been repealed the previous month. At 17, Grandpa Mario was his right-hand man, while still completing his diploma at Mountain View Union High School during the depths of the Great Depression.

This was long before the Santa Clara Valley had become the heart of the world’s tech center. The phrase Silicon Valley wouldn’t come into existence for decades. Mountain View had just over 3,300 residents then, a far cry from the bustling tech center of 82,000 residents today. Back then, it was a town full of cherry, apricot, and walnut orchards, with homes spaced out between them.

About a decade later, Grandpa Mario, at age 28, took over the day-to-day operations of the winery as his dad semi-retired.

Grandpa Mario’s September birthday parties were a big family ordeal. Sometime in his eighties, he began a new celebratory tradition: the ceremonial picking of the grapes, since his birthday coincided with harvest season. He had planted a grapevine along a fence in his backyard garden of his Los Altos home.

The vine had been plucked in the mid-nineties from the Anderson Valley Obester Winery, run by his niece Sandy Obester. She and her husband Paul also had a sister winery on the Pacific Coast in Half Moon Bay. (A couple of years later, the Obesters would sell the Anderson Valley winery to Margaret and Dan Duckhorn, who would convert it into Goldeneye Winery, well-known for Pinot Noir vintages. Dan Duckhorn died last month at age 87.)

2005: Paul and Sandy Obester clipping grapes at Mario Gemello’s 89th birthday party.

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A 1991 doctor visit gave Grandpa Mario a scare. The diagnosis was prostate cancer, but luckily it went into remission for a decade. In the fall of 2001, the cancer returned and with a vengeance.

Doctors were telling the family it was unclear how much time he had left. I was working as a reporter for a Las Vegas newspaper and decided to move home to be close to him.

For the next three years, he was in and out of the hospital, going for chemo treatments and fighting frequent dizzy spells.

As his 89th birthday approached in 2005, he was determined to make it to one last party.

In August, it looked like he may not make it. He collapsed and was rushed to the hospital. But three days later, he emerged with a single demand: Plan that party!

How do you say no to the Godfather? So we did.

But Mother Nature was cruel that summer. It was a horrible year for his grapevine. It had no grapes.

While Mario worried about that dilemma, most of the family worried about his failing health.

He was stubborn. He rejected hospice care, the pain management overseen by nurses. To him, hospice meant death, because doctors predict a person in hospice has six months left or less to live.

The family discovered an alternative called Transitions, which didn’t provide nurses or caregivers, but rather volunteers to come in and chat, keeping a terminally ill person company.

Grandpa Mario accepted Transitions, grudgingly.

While he waited for the first volunteer to arrive, he became consumed with his grapes’ dilemma. His birthday was approaching and his vine was still bare.

One day while I was visiting, he gave me an order:

“Kevin, go to Safeway and buy some grapes. Gotta do it for the kids,” he said, referring to his grown three children. “They won’t know the difference.”

Cousins pose as Mario signs a wine bottle at the party.

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Meanwhile, there was a knock on the door. It was a man named Rich.

“Hi Mr. Gemello. I’m from Transitions. It’s an honor to meet you.”

It turns out, Rich knew a lot about the local wine industry, including my grandfather’s name and history.

Grandma Kay left them in the living room and went upstairs to do some ironing.

About a half hour later, she came downstairs and couldn’t find them. She wondered where they could have gone.

Just then she heard a noise, a banging on the side of the house, coming from the wine cellar.

She rushed down there and found Mario, sitting in a chair, signing a 30-year-old bottle of Cabernet for his new friend, whom he had known for 10 minutes. That’s how long it took to bond with my grandfather.

Rich’s day job, it turned out, was working for wealthy homeowners in Saratoga. His one task was caring for Pinot Noir grapevines on their properties.

The next day at the party, my grandfather was feeling great. I arrived early and rushed out back with my bucket of grapes. I put the bucket down, looked up at the vine, and couldn’t believe what I saw. A “miracle” had happened, thanks to Rich.

The vine was full of Pinot Noir grapes. The party was a smashing success.

He passed away a little more than a month later, on October 31, 2005.

2005: Winemakers Mario Gemello and Paul Obester toast to a full life.

If you’re new here—hi, I’m Kevin!

I’m the author of 🍷 Rain on the Monte Bello Ridge,🍷 my forthcoming memoir about health, aging and winemaking. (Read the origin story of the book.) 🍇

The Centenarian Playbook is my newsletter, which features:

• Healthy aging/longevity tips and stories from Grandma Kay’s long life.

• Wine history & stories of the Gemello Winery

• Ancestry & family research tips