The late harvest?

 The Late Harvest ?

    This is a tale from the 1970's and exposes some of my criminal history. My early years on my own were those of poverty and a hippy lifestyle that meant few luxuries and rare nights out at fine restaurants. The only time I experienced any kind of the good life was at the invitation and selection of BC. It was from my Dad that I learned of another side of life beyond the comfortable middle class scene of the Gate. In this case, the subject was wine and my education involving the fruit of the vine. At the end of the sixties my idea of fine wine was Gallo burgundy, CK Mondavi gallon jugs, Mateus Rose and Lancers wine that was distinguished by the crockery bottle. My father was starting to move from his bad martini habit to a more sophisticated quaffing of good wine. He and my Mom even visited some wineries and they kept their home in Long Beach at a temperature amenable to the wine they were buying and not the humans who lived or visited Terraine ave. At the same time I  had become employed at the Central Ticket Office at UCLA and was box office manager since I was older and I mostly supervised college kids at events at Royce or Schoenberg Halls on campus. I was paid a pittance but it was enough to pay the rent and buy pot while being exposed to great amounts of culture. I learned that in almost every event people in the crowd would hand me tickets they could not use that allowed me to return them to the final count. In big selling houses I could re-sell these seats and pocket the money without affecting the offical take of tickets sold. Yet, instead of saving the dough or getting my car fixed I would head to Wally's Wine in Westwood where the selection was excellent and the salesmen knowledgeable. I had a lot to learn but I established that I liked white wines at that time along with some gentle reds. I was not yet graduated up to Cabernets or bold French Burgundy bottles that mature drinkers would favor. I would take my ill-gotten box-office sums and purchase bottles of Pinot or Chenin Blanc or Gamay Beaujolais just to see what they tasted like.There was no depth to my wine self-taught wine schooling but the guys at Wally's knew everything. I never wanted them to think I was a novice so I  tried to just telll them a vineyard I liked or a certain wine. Going in deep to vintages was over my head but I was a beginner. So, it was I had visited my parents one weekend and had a good glass of Mayacamas Zinfandel which I thoiught was fantastic. The very same bottle now goes for $350 The very next week at Royce was the ever-popular student film show and I managed to skim about ten bucks for wine shopping. I headed to Wally's and confidently told the clerk I wanted this Zinfandel like I was some kind of connosier. He quickly asked me "the late harvest?" I had no clue as to what that meant or if it was what I had sampled. However, not wanting to be judged a rube I just blindly replied "Yep." These sentences became synonymous in the minds of my best pals Timo and Greg as an example in any situation where you were bluffing and had not idea what the hell you were doing. "the late harvest? Yep

                              In the Central Ticket Office with Chris Johnson and Mark Bagdonis