My Purple Heaven and How You Can Share It

By JOHN HARLOW | Editor-in-Chief

All photos by Rich Schmitt/Staff Photographer

Klaus Friederic looked down over his hillside of broken vines, smiled and then sighed.

“It was one of the great moments of my life—when our first harvest came in, we all worked together, producing that first bottle of Pinot.

“But that seems like a long time ago. Now it’s time for another way of making this wine.”

The proprietor of the noblest grapes in The Highlands, proud founder of the Friederici Vineyard, high up within the gated community of Camino de Yatasto, is, for the first time, looking for a partner in his viticulture endeavors.

It’s a passion as crazy as breeding racehorses or racing yachts, the purview of the very few. And the last few years have been a relentlessly tough time for a tiny handful of Palisadians that can call themselves winemakers.

There have been parasites and fungi, bogus wine conspiracies and new regulations, and, of course, the five-year drought.

The recent “super-drought” is over, but not the drought. And it’s shaking the Californian wine industry.

The Methodist founders of Pacific Palisades, who had their own stern ideas about drink, may have wondered how long it would take such foolhardy souls to get a heavenly hint.

But people like Friederic, local grape-grower Steven Spielberg, his Amalfi neighbor David Martin, who imported French Rousanne vines, builder Ardie Tavangarian’s “Tuscan garden” in upper Bienveneda and, of course, wine star Cosimo Pizzulli, do not give up that easily.

Otherwise they would have just picked up a nice bottle at Gelson’s or the Duck Blind.

But as he approached a well-earned retirement, Friederic had a dream—apart from playing a farewell match with the German soccer squad—to serve his friends a decent Pinot from his own land, on his own balcony.

He was prompted into turning that toward reality a decade ago when the Los Angeles Fire Department required Highlands residents to clear the brush near their home.

“I could clear the brush for $2,000, but thought I might as well do something more interesting and productive with the area,” he recalled.

He knew little about wine, having not tasted even a sickly sweet white Liebfraumilch before leaving his native Hamburg in the 1960s. (German wines have since gotten better.)

Cocktails were more fashionable.

But he knew he liked red wines, especially a delicate and mysterious Pinot, and this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to plunge his hands into soil and produce something meaningful. Especially as his daughter, Karin, was leaving home for college.

So with the enthusiastic support of his wife Jennifer (who does not drink), he terraced the one-third acre below the pool deck and brought in 275 two-year-old Pinot Noir vines.

This American dream of blue (OK, juice-purple) heaven was an international affair.

The German-born entrepreneur and his Taiwanese-born spouse took advice from his Italian-American neighbor Pizzulli, who grows grapes south of Sunset, and employed an old soccer buddy, Aldo Luango, a famed Argentine artist, to create a painting that could also become a colorful wine label.

It featured a very happy Friederic and Jennifer.

How happy? Up there with their wedding day, he said, or the day the entire Hamburg soccer team, including the legendary Franz Beckenbauer, turned up at his home for a party. Or when he invaded a World Cup pitch to carry off a goal-scoring hero on his shoulders. That picture went around the world.

Yes, maybe happier than any time since he hung up his soccer boots with knee injuries in 1996.

But a mere agricultural plot could not be enough, not in the Palisades.

So he accented the lushly green hillside grape slope—there is a second flat growing area behind his tennis court—with a bronze nymph-bedecked gate reading “Friederici Vineyard.”

The extra “I” reflects the family spelling of his name, which he simplified in America—a decision he said he still regrets.

The couple was so buzzy, Jennifer designed a barrel-shaped wine cellar complete with a barrel-shaped press and, overlooking the vines, a sitting room with a Tuscan mural.

It is a wondrously peaceful retreat, albeit filled with three highly energetic dogs.

He remembers that in 2007, the first crop was heroic, 150 bottles, the fruits of which were shared with the public at Casa Nostra Ristorante on Palisades Drive.

What did it taste like?

“There was a woody aroma, and a good taste—I am not one for the long words, I just know I liked this wine,” said Friederic fondly.

There were another 185 bottles in 2008.

But then he was swarmed by the nightmares that face all farmers.

The hot summer of 2009 bleached one crop. He went organic and lost more wine in mold-infested bottles. Corks “bled,” oxidizing the Pinot.

So he switched to tougher Shiraz vines, but just as they were getting their feet down, the drought bit, the ground cracked and so did the heart of Friederic.

Friederic is no pushover. He came to the United States to work in the aviation business, but ended up founding a retail empire: Alpine Carpet One Floor and Home.

He retired after 38 years but this week, he is in court suing his former protégé and successor over a share of its rewards. He is no quitter.

But the vineyard needs a reboot, as Hollywood filmmakers say, a complete refresh. For that, he is looking for a companion who shares his love of the vine.

This is the first time he has talked about it.

“I need some help to bring it back to life. Whoever comes in would split the cost of remaking the vineyard 50:50 and keep 80 percent of the production. I am not drinking as much wine as I used to—maybe one glass a night— so I have enough left for quite a while.

“The infrastructure is still all in place, the soil and sun exposure here in The Highlands is ideal, and we could make some fine wine together.”

Patrick Frank, the Palisadian-Post wine writer, agreed: “Grapes for good wine can be grown up there, but as he found out, conditions can be challenging.

“The Pinot Noir that he started with is among the most difficult to get right; Shiraz/Syrah can flourish in more places. The positives are that the Palisades is a cool zone, with maritime influences, and the slopes actually help with vine drainage. With the right grape variety and some drip irrigation, good wine can come from up there in The Highlands.”

Friederic, too, remained optimistic.

He said he believes the vineyard can be brought back to life for as little as $30,000.

But he warned that nature can be fickle, and it could take a year or two before the new partners are sipping together.

They will need to find and employ skilled workers. And the partner must love the challenge of the journey and the pleasure of the glass as much as he does.

“The Palisades is very special, this area of The Highlands is very special—I do not bother to go on holidays anymore; I have everything I love here—and sipping your own wine, from a bottle with your label on it, well, that’s happiness.”

If interested and ready to roll up your sleeves (and maybe your pants, as grape pressing is done on the premises), email klausjf@gmail.com.