The 1961 classification that never was

A foiled attempt to redraw the 1855 classification could have had far-reaching consequences. Jane Anson investigates a little-known chapter of Bordeaux history

The headline in The Times, 20 November 1963 reads, ‘Controversy in Bordeaux’. Written by Alexis Lichine, the article that follows begins, ‘Until they read the news of a movement to change the [1855] Bordeaux classification, a surprising number of wine-buying Englishmen… had never heard of it’. More than 50 years later, and the 1855 classification has surely gained in renown. But its near-replacement in the early 1960s has been almost entirely forgotten; a curious footnote in the 20th-century history of Bordeaux, even though Lichine’s project – he was one of the key agitators for change, along with Baron Philippe de Rothschild at Mouton – came surprisingly close to overthrowing the world’s oldest wine classification.

The proposals made it all the way to France’s national appellations’ institute, INAO, and were within a whisker of being accepted. Three years of negotiations reached their conclusion, a letter of congratulations was sent to the governing committee and a newspaper article proclaiming its arrival was published in Bordeaux.

If it had gone any further, the INAO would have signed the new 1961 Classement des Crus du Médoc into existence. The five levels of 1855 would have been replaced with three. A total of 17 names rewarded in the original ranking would have been demoted and 12 cru bourgeois made their way into the light.

I first heard about the failed reclassification attempt when I was researching my book Bordeaux Legends – it was part of Baron Philippe’s initial strategy for getting Mouton its coveted first growth status. Along the way I uncovered some intriguing documents in the archives of ex-Latour director, Jean-Paul Gardère, who was one of the men selected to weigh up the pros and cons. The subject then came up again a few months ago when Jean-Michel Cazes at Château Lynch-Bages opened up his old letters and documents to me and we spent a fascinating few hours looking back into those heated years from 1959 to 1962, when the reclassification was debated, advanced, argued over and then finally shelved.

Movers and motives

So how did it come about and why? Crucially, it was an initiative driven by the winemakers themselves, not by the INAO. Cazes remembers châteaux owners wanting to simplify things by getting rid of the idea of five levels of 1855. In contrast, Lichine’s article in The Times suggests that it was governed by less noble motivations than simply streamlining. He writes that the Médoc owners (himself included, at Prieuré- Lichine) watched the new classifications in St-Emilion in 1955 – and in Graves in 1953 and 1959 – with envy, particularly those at the lower end of the ranking. ‘Neither [of the new classifications] used the deprecatory designations second, third, fourth, fifth…’

At its heart, the 1961 classification was driven by those who felt their châteaux had been overlooked or undersold in 1855. Baron Philippe was right at the head of the queue, joined by men such as Lichine, whose Prieuré- Lichine had been named a third growth in a 1766 ranking but fell to fourth growth in 1855 (Châteaux Pouget and Marquis de Terme suffered the same fate). Another supporter of change who felt even more hard-done by was Jean Bouteiller. His Château Lanessan was named a fourth growth in an 1815 ranking but didn’t appear at all 40 years later (the family claimed that it was because they didn’t submit samples, overlooking the fact that 1855 was drawn up according to price not tastings).

Things got underway in January 1959, just as Charles de Gaulle was inaugurated as first president of the Fifth Republic. In Bordeaux, the idea of a new classification gathered momentum. Knowing he had to convince the original members of 1855 that it was worth amending, Baron Philippe started to drum up support with the overseeing body, the Syndicat de Crus Classés. He writes in his autobiography that this meant knocking on doors one by one, and finding out that the owners were largely ‘pushing up daisies… [or] gone away leaving an empty château and a row of withered vines’.

Clearly his door-stepping was successful, because on 27 November 1959 a general meeting was held in the Pauillac town hall, attended by 50 of the 61 owners of châteaux classified in 1855. The decision to petition the INAO was carried by 35 votes in favour, with 11 against and four abstentions.

New 0rder

Baron Philippe headed off to the INAO’s Paris offices in spring 1960 to continue the lobbying, and on 30 December 1960, a meeting was held in Bordeaux to establish a committee of experts to draw up the new list of Médoc cru classés. The meeting stressed the ‘absolute secrecy’ needed during deliberations, and anointed wine brokers Gardère (later director of Latour), Emmanuel Caussade and Henri Lacoste among the committee.

A series of letters and minutes give a glimpse into the next few months, as Gardère carefully noted down all developments and reported them back to Paris. Among the recommendations for the new classification would be a periodic reassessment of the châteaux and the level of their ranking – just as with St-Emilion a few years earlier. A time-frame of once every five years was talked about. The new classification would be entirely independent from that of 1855 (‘and clearly distinct from it’, as Cazes notes wryly).

By May 1961, the first hints of trouble began to surface. Those most opposed to the changes included Baron Elie de Rothschild at Lafite and Bernard Ginestet at Margaux. By July 1961, a clause had appeared in the proposals that stated under the new system no commercial brands could be produced bearing the same name as that of a cru classé du Médoc – a salvo shot, reportedly by Ginestet, fired directly at Baron Philippe and his increasingly successful Mouton Cadet brand.

‘That changed the rules of the game for Baron Philippe,’ notes Cazes with the benefit of hindsight, ‘and from that moment on he quietly dropped his support’.

There were plenty of other châteaux owners who were also dropping their support, once they realised what was likely to happen. In the 1960s, the Médoc had suffered from three decades of under-investment after the 1930s economic crash, the war years of the 1940s and the continuing poverty of the 1950s. It meant that plenty of properties were likely to be dropped from the ranking altogether, and tensions began to rise.

But still the committee pressed ahead with their assessments, and on 2 August 1962, a letter of congratulations was sent from Baron Le Roy, president of the INAO, to Gardère and his team for the ‘excellent work undertaken, that can show the way for other regions’.

Dissent and betrayal

It looked like everything was going ahead, but just a few months later Le Roy was starting to waiver. ‘The assumption looking back,’ says Cazes, whose father André was in favour of the change, ‘is that there had been some intervention behind the scenes’.

The final nail in the coffin came when the proposed new ranking was leaked to the local Sud-Ouest newspaper. The five levels of 1855 had been swept away, replaced with three that looked much more similar to the tack taken by St-Emilion; premiers grands crus classés exceptionnels, premiers grands crus classés and grands crus classés. Instead of the 61 châteaux anointed in 1855, just 55 had made it through in 1961. Seventeen of the 1855 names were gone altogether (one second, three thirds, four fourths and nine fifths), mainly because of the lack of investment in their vineyards. The committee pointed out that it wasn’t possible to classify an estate that didn’t have any vines. Twelve crus bourgeois saw a promotion to the ranks of this new list, joining 43 ‘solid’ choices from 1855.

Its publication caused an enormous outcry – just as whoever leaked the document must have hoped. The discussion quickly descended into in-fighting between those who had been demoted, those who thought they had been overlooked, and those who thought they were correctly classified but believed themselves to be in bad company, thus setting the pace for pretty much every classification done in Bordeaux ever since.

On 1 February 1962, Sud-Ouest reported on a meeting, at the Maison du Vin de Pauillac this time, with – again – 50 of the 61 members of the 1855 ranking present (‘including several whose wines did not appear in the new ranking’). What exactly was said is not recorded, but a vote was held and 49 of the owners present voted to ask the INAO to close its dossier. This time, no one was in favour of the ranking and just one person abstained.

Two weeks later, 16 February 1962, a letter was sent to Sud-Ouest by Baron Le Roy explaining that there had been, ‘too many complaints, both oral and written; too much pressure’. He continued that as far as he was concerned, ‘1855 clearly no longer stands in reality but no sensible alternative has been accepted’. The whole thing, he wrote, had been ‘parfaitement désagréable’.

By May 1962, the minister of agriculture confirmed that they would not pursue the classification, and the dossier closed on May 10 with only one vote against.

The lobbying for change, as we know, continued behind the scenes. Lichine tried to bring in a single classification that would encompass all the wines of the Gironde. It’s a fascinating read but came to nothing. Baron Philippe, on the other hand, chose to narrow rather than widen his focus and nine years later was rewarded when Mouton got its promotion to first growth in 1973 (and he got to keep the Mouton Cadet brand alive).

The rest of the 1961 classification remained shelved, destined to become a footnote in history. And maybe we should all be grateful for that. Châteaux such as Clerc Milon, Desmirail, Durfort-Vivens, Ferrière and du Tertre may have no longer existed if it had gone ahead, because in the poverty-stricken Médoc of the time, they simply had no vines left to classify. Those estates today have been rebuilt and strengthened, and it seems certain that the very lack of an alternative meant that 1855 became a promise of excellence that, once money returned to the Médoc, the châteaux slowly began to live up to….

The 1961 crus classés du Médoc

• Premiers grands cru classés exceptionnel Châteaux Lafite-Rothschild, Latour, Margaux, Mouton-Rothschild
• Premiers grands cru classés 21 estates: Châteaux Beychevelle, Brane-Cantenac, Calon-Ségur, Cantemerle, Cos d-Estournel, Ducru-Beaucaillou, Gruaud Larose, Lascombes, Léoville Barton, Léoville Las Cases, Léoville Poyferré, Lynch Bages, Malescot St Exupery, Montrose, Palmer, Pichon Longueville (Baron), Pichon Longueville (Comtesse), Pontet- Canet, Rauzan-Gassies, Rauzan- Ségla, Talbot.
• Grands crus classés 30 estates: Châteaux Batailley, Bel Air Marquis d’Aligre, Boyd- Cantenac, Branaire-Ducru, Cantenac-Brown, Chasse-Spleen, Cos-Labory, Duhart-Milon, Dutruch-Grand-Poujeaux, Giscours, Gloria, Grand-Puy- Ducasse, Grand-Puy-Lacoste, Gressier-Grand-Poujeaux, Haut-Batailley, d’Issan, Kirwan, La Begorce, La Lagune, Lanessan, Langoa-Barton, La Tour-de-Mons, Le Prieuré-Lichine, Marquis de Termes, Meyney, Mouton-Baron Philippe (today Armailhac), de Pez, Phelan-Ségur, Poujeaux, Siran.
• This list uses spellings as set out at the time. Château Haut-Brion would have kept its 1855 status, as would the crus of Sauternes and Barsac.