Chairman Pinault’s conclusion came overnight: the Latour records would not be made public.
“Latour does not explain itself. One hundred and fifty years is our answer.”
In the end, he had accepted the logic of the head of the winemaking team. No, the head winemaker’s argument was only an excuse; the larger reason was that his pride would not allow it. Instead, they wrapped things up by issuing an additional statement once again emphasizing the official appraisal results from Christie's appraisal team.
Screaming Eagle moved as planned. Stan released the production records on his own. Documents neatly organizing the harvest year, vineyard blocks, tank numbers, bottling date, and storage history were distributed through Christie's. It amounted to a half-disclosure.
With that, reactions among collectors were divided. Some understood Latour’s pride, while others remained suspicious. But as Screaming Eagle’s transparent disclosure of records restored a measure of trust, the atmosphere gradually stabilized.
The Christie's Hong Kong auction was held three days later.
The Harbour View Gallery at the Hong Kong Convention and Exhibition Centre. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Victoria Harbour, Hong Kong’s nightscape spread out in glittering lights. The 400-seat auction hall was about eighty percent full, with empty seats visible here and there, showing that the Rudy controversy had not completely died down.
Under the lights at the front of the auction room sat today’s lots. Two old-vintage bottles of Latour and one bottle of Screaming Eagle. Around the bottles, Christie's staff in white gloves moved with care. Even before the auction began, the participants’ eyes were fixed on those bottles.
“Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce the lots presented here today. Château Latour, a name that has endured since the seventeenth century in the heart of Bordeaux’s Pauillac region. In 1855, when the First Growth classification was established, only five estates reached its summit. Latour was one of them, and even now, 170 years later, it still holds that place. The vintages offered today have undergone meticulous appraisal by Christie's appraisal team, and we have confirmed that there are no irregularities in the condition of the corks, the capsule seals, or the label printing methods.”
He paused for a moment and shifted his gaze to the right.
“And Screaming Eagle, Oakville, Napa Valley. Since its first vintage in 1992, this winery has never once exceeded an annual production of 850 cases. The Screaming Eagle presented here today comes with records disclosing the entire process, from harvest year to bottling date to storage history. Transparency and rarity—these two qualities complete today’s set.”
He looked at the bottles once more, then nodded toward the audience.
“A total of twelve lots of this set will be offered today. Tradition and innovation have come together in one place. We shall begin. Lot 1, opening bid: thirty thousand dollars.”
The auction began, and the first bid came in. A single paddle rose in the right-hand section, and just from that, the slow, quiet pace made it feel as though today’s auction would not be particularly fierce.
As the slightly tense auctioneer waited a beat, another paddle went up. Thirty-five thousand. Forty thousand. Slow, but still, the bids continued to rise. Then, among the Christie's telephone bidding staff seated in a row along one wall of the auction room, one person quietly raised a hand while holding a receiver to their ear.
It was a telephone bid.
At that moment, the air in the audience changed. It was subtle, but unmistakable. Everyone present knew that major collectors from Europe or America who could not come to Hong Kong in person used telephone bids. It was a signal that someone seriously wanted it. One of the two people holding up paddles glanced for a moment toward the telephone bidding staff at the front, then faced forward again.
Forty-five thousand. Fifty thousand. Fifty-five thousand.
It was a contest between a European telephone bidder who trusted Latour’s traditional authority and an on-site bidder aiming for the rarity of Screaming Eagle. Each time the price rose, the telephone bidding staff member exchanged a few brief words with the client beyond the receiver. The motions repeated: a nod, then a raised hand.
Sixty thousand. Sixty-two thousand.
In the end, the on-site bidder lowered their paddle.
“Sixty-two thousand dollars. Going once, going twice, sold.”
The hammer fell, and a light round of applause came from the audience. It was higher than expected. That much was clear.
Once the first lot ended, the mood slowly came alive. It was visible how the air in the auction hall, weighed down by the Rudy controversy, began to loosen. From the second lot onward, paddles rose a little faster, and as they moved into the third and fourth lots, the telephone bidding lines increased to two.
But it did not change drastically. Although the winning price rose little by little with each lot, it remained between the high fifty-thousands and mid-sixty-thousands, showing that the shadow cast by Latour’s refusal to disclose its records had not been completely lifted from the auction hall.
The final, twelfth lot was hammered down at sixty-five thousand dollars.
Chairman Pinault received the final sale prices from Christie's headquarters that evening. In his office in Paris, after receiving the report, he worked his mouth with a subtle expression.
“Not bad.”
He had preserved his pride, and the numbers were not bad either. He thought that was enough. Only, the fact that the Sotheby’s auction would be held three weeks later quietly tugged at the edge of that satisfaction.
Three weeks later, at the Sotheby’s Hong Kong auction room.
The Grand Ballroom of the Island Shangri-La, Hong Kong, was the venue Sotheby’s chose when holding special auctions in Hong Kong. It was smaller than the Christie's auction room, with a capacity of 200 seats, but all 200 seats were filled. Only collectors personally selected and invited by Oliver Barron could sit here.
Corinne Mentzelopoulos sat beside me alone, without any attendants.
“It’s a small gathering.” “Invitation only.” “I’ve never seen Sotheby’s use this sort of approach before.”
Her voice was calm. It was impossible to tell whether she was evaluating the auction room or praising it, but I did not miss the way her gaze lingered briefly on the bottle of 1996 Margaux displayed at the front.
At the front of the auction room, today’s lots were on display. A bottle of 1996 Château Margaux and a bottle of Redwood Aether stood side by side. Beside them, a certificate for the limited purchase right to Castello’s first vintage was set in a frame. It had been designed by Sotheby’s, and it looked far more luxurious than I had expected.
Oliver Barron stepped onto the podium.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome. Today is the day the history of Bordeaux and the innovation of Napa appear together for the first time as a single set in this auction room.”
He looked over the audience for a moment to draw in the atmosphere, then continued in a forceful tone.
“First, the 1996 vintage of Château Margaux. Robert Parker, 99 points. Bordeaux in 1996 was a year shaped by dry weather in August and perfect temperatures in September. The 1996 Margaux is a vintage remembered especially for its elegance. It is a wine whose tannic structure and delicate fruit are still alive and breathing even at this moment. This bottle came directly from the cellars of Château Margaux. Its entire storage history is certified by Margaux’s official records.”
Then he shifted his gaze to the right.
“And Redwood Aether. Robert Parker, 100 points. The third perfect-score wine in Napa Valley history. Those of you present here already know which wines received the first and second perfect scores. Aether is a wine that has placed its name in that lineage. The complete records, from harvest to bottling, will be disclosed today through Sotheby’s.”
The 1997 Screaming Eagle Cabernet Sauvignon and the 2002 Harlan Estate Cabernet Sauvignon had each received 100 points from Robert Parker, elevating Napa Valley’s status. Now Redwood had, in both name and reality, been recognized as one of Napa Valley’s top three wineries.
“A total of fifteen lots of the Heritage & Future Duo will be offered today. Each lot consists of one bottle of 1996 Château Margaux and one bottle of Redwood Aether. And to the winning bidder of today’s set, one more item will be provided.”
He pointed to the frame.
“A limited purchase right to Bottle No. 1 of Castello Winery’s first vintage. Castello is a wine not yet released to the world, a work to be created by Brian Choi of Redwood Winery from Napa Valley’s To Kalon vineyard. This purchase right will be granted only to the successful bidders here today. Ninety-nine points and one hundred points. And a wine that does not yet exist in the world. Today’s set contains the past, the present, and the future all at once.”
He lifted the hammer and said,
“The opening bid is forty thousand dollars.”
The auction began.
From the very first lot, the atmosphere was different. Unlike the Christie's auction, several paddles went up at once. From forty thousand to forty-five thousand. Fifty thousand. The pace was fast. Before the auctioneer even had time to call out the bids, paddles rose as if in competition, and at fifty-five thousand, two telephone bidding lines entered at the same time.
The telephone bidding staff, seated side by side, held their receivers to their ears and began quietly raising their hands. The on-site bidders looked at them, then raised their paddles again.
Sixty thousand. Sixty-two thousand. Sixty-five thousand.
The first lot was hammered down at sixty-eight thousand dollars, and applause broke out from the audience. It had already surpassed the final sale price of sixty-two thousand dollars at the Christie's auction with the very first lot. I could feel the air inside the auction room changing.
The second lot. The third lot. The winning bids rose little by little with each lot. Seventy thousand. Seventy-three thousand. Seventy-five thousand. As collectors used the sale price of the previous lot as their benchmark, the competition naturally intensified. Collectors who had missed out once became more aggressive in the next lot.
Corinne sat beside me, quietly watching the front. Her expression was composed. But I could see her hands resting neatly on her knees. A little more firmly than usual.
As the auction passed the tenth lot, the temperature in the room rose noticeably. The telephone bidding lines increased to four. Collectors who were not present had begun jumping in belatedly.
“Lot 14. Opening bid: eighty thousand dollars.”
This time, the opening bid was different. Oliver had raised it to reflect the trend of the winning bids in the preceding lots. Light laughter came from the audience. Oliver smiled slyly and said,
“I am merely reflecting the atmosphere.”
Paddles went up. Eighty-five thousand. Ninety thousand. Ninety-five thousand. One hundred thousand.
The moment it passed one hundred thousand dollars, it was clear that the faces of the attendees had flushed with heat. Then one of the telephone bidding staff raised a hand. One hundred five thousand. An on-site bidder countered. One hundred ten thousand.
In the end, Lot 14 was hammered down at one hundred twelve thousand dollars.
And then one final lot remained.
“Lot 15. Opening bid: ninety thousand dollars.”
Oliver lifted the hammer and looked over the audience. The air in the auction room was taut. Collectors who had already missed out on earlier lots were focusing on the final two.
One hundred fifty-five thousand. One hundred sixty thousand.
The last line lowered its hand.
“One hundred sixty thousand dollars. Going once, going twice, sold!”
The hammer struck down, and applause erupted at the same time. The sound of all 200 people in the auction room clapping at once filled the Grand Ballroom of the Island Shangri-La, Hong Kong.
Corinne looked at me with a satisfied smile.
“In the end, it succeeded.” “Congratulations.” “Congratulations to you as well.”
She laughed softly and raised her glass, so I raised mine too. The two glasses clinked lightly.
News of the winning bids spread in an instant.
Wine Spectator posted a breaking story first, followed by Decanter. The Financial Times weekend edition ran it as a headline.
[Redwood’s Heritage & Future Duo Sets New Record at Sotheby’s Hong Kong Auction—Establishing a New Standard for Fine Wine.]
The direction of the articles was clear. The Sotheby’s auction had overwhelmed Christie's. And Redwood Winery, beyond being a Napa Valley cult winery, had been officially recognized in the global market as a winery standing shoulder to shoulder with Bordeaux First Growths.
Collectors’ attention began shifting to Redwood’s entire lineup.
Aether and Astra Veil were already difficult to obtain on the market, so the mid-range lineup started receiving attention. Echelon was Redwood’s Cabernet Sauvignon-based mid-range wine, while Sylphid and Quiet Hill were Pinot Noirs designed by Brian in his own distinctive style.
Until now, they had been relatively less noticed, overshadowed by Aether and Astra Veil, but as the name Redwood itself began to draw attention, they naturally rose along with it. On the secondary market, Echelon’s price began to climb, followed by Sylphid and Quiet Hill.
The reaction was immediate and tangible. My father contacted me in my hotel room in Hong Kong.
“Brian, orders are exploding from Asia. How much Echelon and Sylphid inventory do we have in the warehouse?”
“Not that much.”
“Then we’ll have to adjust the prices.”
“Father, don’t do it right now.”
“Why not?”
“If we raise prices, we’ll look greedy. Right now, the brand is rising. We can just enjoy this moment.”
My father was silent for a moment before speaking.
“Yeah, you’re right. But my heart is pounding like crazy. Our son’s name is even coming up in Korea.”
“Really?”
“I’m telling you!”
After I hung up, Warren lifted his wineglass and said,
“People were this astonished in 1976, when Napa beat Bordeaux. But back then, it was a blind tasting. Napa won with its name hidden. This time, though, it’s different. Winning with its name on the line will mean a great deal in the wine world.”
“You seem even happier than I am.”
“Haha, does it look that way? You’re right. I’m happy, and I’m excited. I want to see more—the sight of Napa Valley wines soaring even higher.”