In the autumn of 1925 a soulful-eyed Polish Jew named Stambois came round to try to sell DW's father some quite exceptional old brandies. They were so expensive that no one else would buy them, but somewhat uncharacteristically perhaps, DW's father took a gamble.
Shortly afterwards DW's parents went off on their annual holiday to the South of France, and DW took a gamble of his own.
In the 1920s, wine merchants' lists were many pages long but rarely more than six by four inches in size, and normally the best brandy one could buy was Hennessy or Martell.
DW designed and had printed a special catalogue with gold lettering on thick brown paper, ten by eight inches in size but only eight pages long. Each page had a brief essay of two or three hundred words describing the historic associations of one of the brandies, illustrated with coats of arms, branded corks, and so on. The prices ranged from two and a half guineas a bottle to £100 per dozen.
That catalogue was apparently the most costly ever produced in the wine trade. DW had not written a word to his father about it, and was scared what his reaction might be.
When his father got home the catalogues had just been delivered. On seeing them, DW's father gave DW "a very queer look but neither praised nor condemned me".
The catalogues went out. On the morning they were delivered Lord Wilton, who had never even bought a siphon of soda from the Wheatleys, sent his man along with a £100 cheque for a dozen of the Marie Antoinette. Then the orders poured in. DW's gamble had proved a most tremendous success.
To read DW's account in his own words, click here
