A couple of years ago, I resolved to write a column about Oz Clarke. I’d just spent 10 days with him in Chile and Argentina and, not for the first time, been blown away by his knowledge, commitment and energy, along, of course, with his astonishing recall and infectious bonhomie. I thought it would be good to celebrate all of that.
Then I started worrying that people would think he’d shared some awful diagnosis during the trip, and had six months to live. In the end, I decided against it. But I was left with a nagging feeling that we shouldn’t wait until people are no longer around before we say how great they are. Then came the news about Matthew Jukes.
Plenty has already been written about Matthew’s many admirable qualities, several of which he shared with Oz. I tried to do justice to his unrivalled body of work, unstinting work ethic and unyielding positivity in my own words, published elsewhere. Doing so, however, only made me more upset at his passing.
Why was I so sad? I’d known Matthew a fair while, which always makes you nostalgic, and I’d spent a bit of time with him socially, which makes things more tangible. But I wasn’t as close to him as many in the industry. I liked him – a lot – but not nearly as much as I admired him.
But there was more to it than that. My abiding emotion was not just sadness but regret. He had so much more to give. Think of all the insights, opinions, events still to come. All guaranteed to be of huge quality and depth, and immeasurable benefit to wine lovers and trade. And it wasn’t just consumers and professionals who would be missing out. It was Matthew himself. He loved what he did, and revelled in doing it.
Oz is the same. His skills as an observer, taster and commentator are matched only by his enthusiasm. I remember one morning on our trip when, after tasting through the entire range of premium wines from the Santa Rita group, I repaired, somewhat jaded, to the outdoor terrace to size up lunch. Oz, by contrast, continsued tasting all the entry-level Cabernets, Carmenères and Chardonnays with the group’s junior winemaker, giving him valuable feedback along the way (all while recalling the exact south east-facing, gravel-and-loam vineyard from where a particular wine came when he visited 15 years previously).
↓
Passion and commitment
We are beyond fortunate, as an industry, to have people who, like Matthew and Oz, are not only hugely knowledgeable about wine but care so much about it. People, in short, who love wine. In my sector of the trade I think immediately of the likes of Jancis Robinson, Tim Atkin, Jamie Goode, Joe Wadsack, Robert Joseph, all of whom show a passion and commitment that go way beyond the day job.
Researching an obituary for Matthew, I came across a story I’d never heard. It turned out that, over the years, he had quietly but consistently volunteered his services to the WSTA in its campaign for fairer excise duty. Adam Withrington, then head of PR for Treasury Wines Estates (at the time part of a WSTA working group including spirits giants Diageo and Pernod Ricard) recalls a pre-Budget meeting in 2015 when he “utterly dazzled Priti Patel [then exchequer secretary to the Treasury]”. Shortly afterwards came the first freeze in wine duty in three decades. And while there may have been other, political reasons behind the move, Withrington was struck by the impact Jukes made. “Politicians want to talk to people with a connection to voters, not corporate lobbyists,” he told me.
I’m old enough to have seen several other industry stalwarts leave us before their time. I think of Patrick Sandeman, Simon Staples, Steven Spurrier. All of them connected to consumers and all great ambassadors for the trade. But as an industry, did we get everything we could have done from their contribution?
I can’t help but feel that these type of people had – and have – much more to give. But often we tend to spend our time turning inwards to debate niche, negative issues rather than turning outwards to project the wider, positive impact of the wine world as a whole.
With the industry under pressure as never before, it’s time we were less British and modest about celebrating our most distinctive voices. Not just because they’re authentic, convivial types who live, love and breathe our trade. But because they’re an asset to us as an industry. We need to harness that – before it’s too late.