Dave Phinney got his start with The Prisoner, but millions later he has moved on

By Tom Marquardt

There’s little left to say about Dave Phinney that hasn’t already been said in countless articles and videos. He is arguably the most dynamic entrepreneur in the modern wine industry, racking up more success stories to his name than anyone else of his era. Yet he keeps reinventing himself, never staying put for long here or abroad. Now middle-aged, he has proven to be more than a shrewd businessman: a gifted winemaker with an instinct for what captivates consumers’ palates.

As an introduction to himself at a recent wine tasting I attended, he quickly summarized his often-repeated meteoric rise over the last three decades as if he was telling it for the first time. While in his mid-20s, he launched Orin Swift Cellars (a name that combines his father’s middle name and his mother’s maiden name) in 1998 with two tons of purchased zinfandel grapes and rented equipment. He created The Prisoner, an unconventional wine from mixed grapes that became an instant success, in 2000. He sold The Prisoner brand (no vineyards or facilities) to Huneeus Vintners in 2009 for a cool $40 million before he was 30 years old and signed a regrettable non-compete clause that prevented him from making zinfandel for eight years. Once that expired, he invented “Eight Years in the Desert,” a zinfandel blend that found instant success among a cult Phinney following. Other brands quickly followed. In 2016, he sold the Orin Swift portfolio to Gallo for a cool $300 million before he turned 50 but remained as Orin Swift’s winemaker. Most recently, he founded a distillery (since sold) in California, created a Locations brand (sold) from grapes grown in European countries, and launched his latest venture, Our Lady of Guadalupe in Sta. Rita Hills.

Whew. Does this man have an end game?

Phinney called himself an “accidental tourist” who stumbled into winemaking in his college days. Growing up in a household with Almaden jug wines on the table, he studied political science at the University of Arizona and toyed with being an attorney but was saved—his word–when a friend told him about an opportunity to study abroad. He jumped at the chance, packed his bags, and joined others in a cheap pensione in Florence. From his sparse party dwelling among friends, he explored Tuscan wine country, shared magnums of wine, and eventually returned to the United States with a new direction: wine or bust.

After a night-shift job at Robert Mondavi, he joined the winemaking team at Whitehall Lane Winery, where he met his wife, Kim Leonardini, whose family has deep roots in Napa Valley. Two children followed.

His love for an unconventional blend based on zinfandel was the impetus behind The Prisoner, whose modest start at 385 cases eventually grew to 85,000 cases. It remains the best-selling red blend in the premium, over-$20 market. Competitors were quick to copy the extracted, ripe zinfandel blend, a formula that reshaped the market. Although one of the most disliked wines among purists and collectors, its amazing success is indisputable.

Phinney confessed he had hit rock bottom when he couldn’t make wine during his eight-year non-compete period. He wanted to name his breakout wine “Prisoner Killer,” but thought better of it. He bided his time writing and pacing, but his full-throttle speed was revving impatiently.

It took him only two nights to create the 20 different wine labels for the expanding Orin Swift portfolio. It’s a crazy pace for anyone to keep, but he said he tells his staff to run everything at top speed, which is a mantra he follows while checking overseas vineyards. He told me he flies to his winery in France, tastes wine the same day, and flies back home the next day, a routine that has become more demanding now that he’s over 50.

The toll such a head-strong pace takes reminded him that life is finite. He sold his distillery because it was sapping too much time, he dashed his hopes for raising cattle, and he is concentrating on his Our Lady of Guadalupe brand as well as a winery outside Maury, France, where he owns a home frequented regularly by his family. He loves his partnership with Gallo, which he credits with growing the brand and giving him the freedom to pursue his own labels. Life is good for now, but retirement isn’t yet in the cards.

Our Lady of Guadalupe (OLG) is the first time he has owned vineyards in the United States. Although he is known for making premium wines, his Sta. Rita Hills venture includes wines at more affordable prices.

We loved the Acolytes Chardonnay, an estate wine designed as an approachable, gateway to the cool-climate region. The flagship OLG costs more than $100, so that gate swings wide. An unusual “Guero” wine is signature Phinney: an unconventional blend of gamay, valdiguie, and pinot noir. It is named after the nickname given to him by the Hispanic harvest crew he befriended during his early days at Robert Mondavi. The chillable wine is racking up good reviews and is loaded with easy, young fruit flavors reminiscent of cru beaujolais.

The Acolytes Pinot Noir for around $30 shows off bright cherry and raspberry flavors with good acidity, but the killer pinot noir is the Our Lady of Guadalupe from estate grapes. Costing around $50, it is more concentrated.

Painted Scars, our favorite wine of the tasting, is a full-bodied grenache-syrah blend made from low-yielding, 100-year-old vineyards at Phinney’s estate in the Roussillon region of southern France not far from the Spanish border. It is rich and intense with ripe dark fruit flavors and tantalizing hints of espresso and chocolate.

Phinney loves finding inspiration in art for his creative labels, including one from his daughter’s drawings—she wanted payment for it, though, and dad gave her $5,000. She should have held out for more. The art for Painted Scars comes from a 19th-century anatomy book covered in tattoo art by the famous Mexican tattoo artist Dr. Lakra. The Prisoner label was inspired by a Francisco Goya etching.

Phinney struggled to come up with a retirement plan when we asked him for one. But eventually he said he imagines himself farming a half-acre vineyard to make wine for personal consumption. Something tells us that’s a long way off.