This was a rough weekend in the Valley. Services (OK. Celebrations of Life) were held for legends, Peter Newton and Jamie Davies. Like the people they honored, the ceremonies were exquisite.

Peter's was a full blown Episcopal Mass with the most uplifting music, pageantry and liturgy. The men wore dark suits and the various priests, deacons, choir members and acolytes were vested. It was elegant. Formal. First class. Fantastic. Father Mac's merry men put us mackerel snappers to shame.

Jamie's was outdoors up at Schramsberg—under the pines and oaks of Jack's (now Jack and Jamie's "Grove"). The birds chirped. The silence was deafening. Speakers from all parts of Jamie's past came forward.

Mary Anne McComber officiated. ( I can never see her without remembering how pregnant she was over 40 years ago when she and George came up to the Lazy J for dinner with Jim Pop and Maggie. Our dirt road was so bumpy that on the way home they drove straight up to the San where Tommy was promptly delivered).

Each service was a perfect reflection of the giant we came to honor.

This is not to slight Peter, (the consummate gentleman, he would understand) nor to compare the two, but watching the Gals speak at Jamie's service got me to thinking once again about the women of the Napa Valley. How come no one has written that book?

Our Valley Girls are unlike any others in the world—at least that breed of gal which came up here during the 60's before the wine boom. (Jim Pop always dated it from ’72 when Heublein paid $4,000 an acre for bare land on the Keig Ranch in Rutherford).

Now lots of women helped to make the wine business what it is today. There were the various groups—the original pioneers—and the hard working rummage sale, cake baking, spaghetti feeding crews of my youth which ran the schools for oh so many years.

There were the “modern” Valley originals (no, I'm not going back to Josephine Tychson), Ramona Berringer, Ina Hart, Babe Learned, Nell McVeagh, Bebe York, Liz Martini, Dagmar Sullivan, Claire Talcott, Betty Daniels, Eleanor McCrea, Mary Louise Kornell, Annie Carpy, Marge and Blanche Mondavi, and so many others. (I know I'm going to leave out your favorite, but I can't cover—nor remember—everybody).

And today, women wine makers like Holly Peterson and Thelma Long are rock stars. Next to Advertising and Fashion, I'm not sure any profession is as friendly to women as wine.

But it was all made possible by a particular group of Valley Girls who came up here as raw rookies, not knowing what they were getting into. Their husbands got much of the press, but these Valley Girls formed a special fraternity (somehow "sorority" just doesn't sound right).

They brought a touch of poetry to the Valley. Margarit Biever is no doubt the most famous—she led the charge to marry wine into the fields of art, literature and music. But her sisterhood teemed with the most amazing women. Besides Jamie there was Martha May, Belle Rhodes, Barbara Eislie, , Virginia Van Asperen, Molly Chappellet, Mary Novak, Eleanor Coppola, Robin Lail, Robbie Dean, Lila jager, and Katie Spann, to name a few.

I met them all as a boy. Maggie’s wit, sarcasm and back hand had won them over and most did the Virginia reel with her, Jim Pop and their hubbies, on one Saturday night a month up at the Lodi Farm Center.

When these gals arrived planted land was just hitting $1,000 per acre. Cattle was the biggest crop. The Saints were undefeated, and El Real was the only restaurant in the Upper Valley.

They were farmers before “grower” hit the lexicon. No. We were not “Tres chic” back then.

Each one of these women literally toiled in the fields and knew the fear of the Banker’s knock at midnight. Each went to bed at one time or another wondering if this weren’t the biggest mistake of their lives.

But they persevered.

These gals had a feel for the land which was uncanny. Their tables were decorated with Spanish moss, persimmons, olive branches, madrone and oak leaves. Anything that they came across on an afternoon walk, was likely to end up as decor for the evening meal.

Like farmers everywhere, they entertained at each others’ homes. They cooked and learned to pair wines with meals.

They lived for the arts, promoting poetry, literature, painting and music. They traveled, often together, to Europe and brought back home new ideas from the old world.

And no, we wouldn’t have the Wine Auction, Clinic Ole, Lincoln Center, the Opera House nor the Museum without them.

But their biggest contribution was bringing about and continually promoting the Ag Preserve and Ag in general. With Jamie and Jack they fought the freeway up the middle of the Valley.

Most never left their husbands, yet were truly married to the land. The beauty you enjoy here today is because of what they did back then.

Now they’ve passed the torch on to a new generation of women. We will not see their like again. Their love for the land was uncanny. It was a privilege to have grown up in their orbit. Jamie could have been their poster child.










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Cindy Warren
1317 Allyn Ave.
St. Helena, CA 94574

(707)963-7527
fax (707)963-3937

Jeffrey Earl Warren
James Warren & Son
1414 Main St.
St. Helena, Ca.
94574
707-963-2748