How Gallo conquered Europe

As Woody Allen so famously said, “Showing up is 80 percent of life.” This may not sound like much of a concept, let alone a marketing plan, but it’s worked for E&J Gallo in Europe, where that enigmatic winery has become one of the dominant brands, partly because they also remembered what other companies, especially wineries, often forget: Sticking around is the other 20 percent.
International marketing seemed to be easier 25 years ago, when President Jimmy Carter launched a U.S. government program to promote American wine exports. California winemakers led the way to these new foreign adventures, gathering up prestige – and frequent-flier miles – commuting to various countries, especially England, gateway to Europe, home to many of the world’s most important wine writers and generally a pretty cool place to hang out. The movement got to the point where an event in London attracted almost 100 wineries, setting the official world record for a California wine tasting, and a wine appreciation group of British connoisseurs called the Zinfandel Club thrived.
It was a swell party while it lasted, but high taxes, shipping costs, and especially the oppressive grinding of unfavorable exchange rates – as American tourists have discovered – took the fun out of it. Like so many Cinderellas, quite a few California wineries scampered away from the ball; it’s great to get your wine listed at the Ritz Hotel and other posh places, but at half a dozen cases per year for each outlet, you’re not going to send your kid to college on the proceeds, let alone the prestige.
While a lot of wineries were conducting their charm offensives from above and discovering the limitations of the trickle-down effect, Gallo skipped the party. Instead, they were down in the trenches, gaining territory on foot, slogging it out from the ground up. Instead of partnering with the sort of old-school wine brokers that handled most of the wine business, they built their own sales force, a cadre of articulate, forceful, usually humorless guys who resemble barely house-trained U.S. Marine officers. (When I joked with one about seeing a lot of Gallo wine in my local grocery store but not in the corner wine shop, he sneered, “Do you know how many grocery stores there are in England? Well, we do, and it’s a hell of a lot.”) They persisted, and kicked the stuffings out of a lot of French and Italian bottom-feeders and brands that had become virtual wineries, like Almaden, Blossom Hill and Paul Masson, as well as a few discounters who’d gone with the old-school wine brokers.
Within a few years, everyone else was an also-ran. Supermarkets, who sell more than 80 percent of all wine in England and didn’t get to that point by challenging customers, faced reality and went with the winner. Gallo wines are now at eye level on their shelves, and at easy reach on the right in the cool cases – in the marketing race, that’s pole position, just where they want to be. In some ways, England and Europe are a distorted mirror, reflecting a different reality of California wine. In this unlikely landscape, Seghesio is a heavy hitter on restaurant wine lists, Ravenswood is making zinfandel something of a household name, Sonoma-Cutrer is aiming to create a prestigious niche, De Loach is making a comeback, Sebastiani and Kendall-Jackson are tiptoeing around the edge of the market and Robert Mondavi’s corporate owners are spending about $6 million on an ad campaign to re-establish the winery, which had been the pre-eminent brand before the family let their attention, and sales, wander off.
And Gallo marches on, in Ireland, Belgium, Sweden, Poland and on and on. Even the Roman Empire didn’t embrace this many countries in Europe. It’s the leading exporter of California wine, still showing up, still sticking around. Not a bad marketing plan after all.
Brian St. Pierre is an American writer who lives in England.