Former Sonoma County winemaker saves historic East Bay vineyard from destruction

Last August, on a hurried stretch of East 18th Street in Antioch, 20 acres of ancient grapevines seemed to vanish overnight.

Once part of the historic Evangelho Vineyard, the parcel was sold off in the 1950s, changing hands several times before Rockefeller Construction acquired it last year.

Morgan Twain-Peterson of Sonoma’s Bedrock Wine Co. was crushed, but not surprised.

In Contra Costa County, where rows of centuries-old grapevines are often sandwiched between gas stations and convenience stores, the sense of impending loss is palpable.

“All the old vineyards in Contra Costa County are essentially for sale — you just need to ask,” Twain-Peterson said. “If you own a 20-acre mom-and-pop vineyard, and someone offers to buy it for $250,000 an acre, you’re going to sell it — especially if your kids have no interest in farming.”

Twain-Peterson estimates that as much as 95% of the agricultural land in Antioch and the neighboring city of Oakley has disappeared over the past few decades.

Since 2017, he has owned 10 acres of Evangelho, leasing the remaining 23 acres from PG&E. Rooted beneath a cat’s cradle of power lines, the 135-year-old vineyard owes its survival in part to the utility company, which is prohibited from developing the land.

“The reality is that the economics of farming a vineyard are so tough that not a lot of people can do it,” Twain-Peterson said. “The only way we’re able to farm Evangelho is by leasing most of the vineyard. That cuts cost and makes it economically viable.”

Part of the East Bay, Antioch and Oakley have become bedroom communities for workers in San Francisco and Oakland, where soaring home prices have pushed families to the outskirts of the Bay Area. In 2018, Bay Area Rapid Transit extended service to Antioch, transforming the farming community into a worthy commuter destination.

“Contra Costa County is one of the trickiest spots in California for old-vine preservation,” said Twain-Peterson. “We have some of the most historic grapevines in the world here. But it’s only a matter of time before they all disappear.”

Preserving history

When Matt and Erin Cline learned that one of Oakley’s oldest, most distinct vineyards was slated for destruction, they knew they had to act.

Unlike many ancient vineyards in the region, the roughly 140-year-old Joaquin José Vineyard was not being threatened by housing or commercial development. Instead, it faced removal as part of the Dutch Slough Salt Marsh Restoration Project.

Launched in 2003, the ambitious effort aims to restore over 1,100 acres of freshwater tidal marsh and native habitat in the western Sacramento-San Joaquin Delta.

It was here, on a sand dune near Marsh Creek, that the Portuguese farmer Joaquin José planted vines in the 1880s.

Mostly Carignan, the dry-farmed vines are tucked in fine upland sand, which has guarded their roots against phylloxera (a deadly louse) for nearly a century and a half.

“The vineyard is basically a living museum,” said Matt Cline, owner of Three Wine Company in Clarksburg. “It’s growing on a historic sand dune, which is a rare feature itself.”

Cline, whose family has farmed in Contra Costa County since the 1920s, began purchasing grapes from Joaquin José Vineyard in the 1980s while serving as winemaker at Cline Family Cellars. Established by his brother Fred Cline, the winery originated in Oakley and moved to Sonoma in 1989.

“The Carignan is so concentrated with flavor, it just jumps out of the glass,” he said. “And it has wonderful acidity due to cold air from San Francisco Bay. That makes the wines very balanced.”

Beginning in 1889, the vineyard was owned by the Emerson family, operators of Contra Costa County’s last dairy, who leased the land to various winegrowers for more than 130 years. In the 1990s, the county planned to rezone the property for housing. But in 2003, the California Department of Water Resources acquired the property, along with more than 1,000 surrounding acres, to restore the marshland.

It would take another eight years before the Clines learned the ancient vineyard was slated for removal.

“When we found out they were going to rip out the vineyard, we thought, ‘Oh my God, what are we going to do?’” Erin Cline said. “It has such historical significance. We preserve old buildings and historical trees — why not save this vineyard?”

Two decades in the making

To move forward, the Dutch Slough Project required multiple environmental impact reports, which were released for public comment and final approval from the Department of Water Resources.

A key concern among conservationists was the threat to the endangered Bay Miwok evening primrose, a rare perennial named in honor of the Native Americans who once lived on the dune lands.

“In 2011, I woke up and realized I had to do something,” Matt Cline said. “So I began writing letters to argue the vineyard was worth saving – and encouraged others to do the same.”

In all, 115 public letters were submitted to the Department of Water Sources in support of preserving Joaquin José Vineyard.

In his letter, Cline called the vineyard “irreplaceable” and emphasized its central role in California’s viticultural history.

“This ancient vineyard needs to remain intact as a living museum … to inspire future winemakers and viticulturists,” he wrote. “The age of the dry-farmed vines provides proof this wine-growing model works.”

In March 2015, the Dutch Slough Project approved the preservation of Joaquin José Vineyard. Today, the Clines lease the vineyard from the state, with Alan Luchessi managing the vines.

The old-vine Carignan finds its way into Three Wine Company’s chillable Faux Pas ($27), a juicy, quaffable red blend of Carignane, Zinfandel, Petite Sirah and Mataro. It also appears in the brand’s Old Vines Field Blend ($26), a complex marriage of Zinfandel, Petite Sirah, Mataro, Carignane and Alicante Bouschet — all sourced from the sandy soils of Oakley.

(On a side note, don’t miss their old-vine Mataro from Contra Costa County’s Spinelli Vineyard, which was sadly removed in 2018 to make way for housing.)

“I’ve been incredibly fortunate to work with these old vines,” Cline said. “I’m just their caretaker. And I don’t want to screw it up.”