Every July, the Lido Isle Yacht Club has a summer beach concert. A band performs on a float in front of the clubhouse, and members bring beach chairs, food, and wine to enjoy as they listen to the music. This has been going on for several years, and I have carried on a tradition of bringing a large format bottle of wine to share with the crowd of maybe 200 people. I mean a BIG bottle—six liters. That’s the equivalent to eight bottles of wine; it’s called a Methuselah.

 

This tradition began with Butch Pope. His mom and mine were very good friends. Butch was a few years older than I, so we really didn’t hang around when I was a kid except when my mom got Butch to teach me how to surf. Butch had very modest beginnings, but was driven to succeed in everything. When I attended Newport Harbor High, the boys' locker room had all sorts of plaques on the wall with Butch’s name for this and that. He became an Olympic rower (1964). He was a successful businessman and had a home on Lido Isle. When he got married, the wedding was on a yacht which cruised the harbor.

 

Sometimes I would go over to his house for dinner. He kept a few very collectable bottles of wine under a glass coffee table in the living room. One of them was a six-liter bottle (a Methuselah) of Rutherford Hills Cabernet Sauvignon. He also had a standard bottle of Chateau Margaux 1959. I had hoped he would share that one, but he eventually took it to Morton’s, shared a glass with the sommelier and the chef, and they comped his meal! As for the Rutherford Hill Methuselah, Butch brought it to the beach concert one July and told me, “Len, you’re in charge of this thing.”

 

I carried it around the beach and poured samples until it was empty. I made sure I got some of it—and Butch, too. I had a lot of fun. A couple of years went by, and Butch came once more to the beach concert and brought yet another bottle. I ran around and served that one to everyone, too.

 

Butch died very suddenly at age 58 while on a treadmill at his health club. I attended his service at American Legion Hall on the Peninsula. People were asked to say something to the crowd. I went up and said that I represented Butch’s one big failure in life. He was never able to get me to learn how to surf. The comment brought the house down.

 

After Butch died, I have made a point of securing large format bottles to share at these events ever since. In 2023, I brought a 1983. In 2024, I had an ’84. Last year I served up an’85. This past July, I brought an ’86—all Rutherford Hills Cabs. I’m saving a 1987 for next year, and I have an ’88 for the year after that! Interesting coincidence: I found out that the gentleman, Steve McAnliss, from whom I purchased my bottles, was also a friend of Butch. Steve had once worked for the winery. A couple of years ago, he sold me his stash of big bottles, and I am putting them to good use.