CHAPTER 1

Out of the Blue

Miles of dusty Mexican roads were getting monotonous. The love of my life,Martin Crowley, was just a few days into his monthly buying trip for his newcompany, Architectural Products Marketing (APM), and was sourcing exquisitelyhandcrafted tiles, carved stone, marble, ceramics, furnishings, and otherarchitectural pieces from dozens of out-of-the-way factories and quarries in thecountryside. The plan was to bring them back to sell to designers and architectsbuilding beautiful homes for the millionaires and billionaires living in BeverlyHills and along California's Gold Coast. APM's customers loved his unique andrefined taste, and he was doing a roaring trade.

Martin knew exactly where to find the best artisans in Mexico and was an avidcollector of objets d'art. He had an eye like no one I'd ever met and theability to envision how any piece would work in interior and exterior design andlandscaping. He was also a brilliant negotiator and could bargain down the priceso that the product was practically being given away. But doing that requiredhim to cover a lot of ground, and he was getting exhausted and lonely. To keephimself company, Martin had found a stone carved statue of a hotei—a bald,laughing Buddha with a big potbelly. This particular one had a missing toe, andMartin kept him on the car seat next to him. It must have brought him luck.

Whenever he went across the border, he always hired the same driver, Felipe, alocal guy who spoke English well and knew the terrain intimately. Martin didn'tspeak Spanish, and perhaps that was just as well, because when he did speak toanyone Latino, his English suddenly had a Spanish accent. On this particular dayof road travel, the pair found themselves in the mountains of Jalisco, about twohours from Guadalajara, smack in the middle of the country.

Lost in the passing landscape, Martin found himself flashing back to aconversation he'd had with his APM business partner and friend, the entrepreneurJohn Paul DeJoria, earlier that month. Martin and John Paul, or JP, as he isalso known, had been drinking shots of Chinaco Tequila when they beganspeculating about which tequila the aristocrats of Mexico drank. As two men ofcuriosity and taste, they had this type of conversation regularly. Martinpromised to check it out on his next trip to Mexico, and it just so happenedthat here he was, right in the heart of tequila country.

If he was going to find the finest tequila anywhere, this had to be the place.The highlands overlooking the valley of the Rio Grande provide the perfectconditions for growing blue agave—a plant from the lily family with a corethat looks like a giant pineapple, a pina. Harvested and processed a certainway, agave is distilled for the production of tequila. But more on that later.

FIELDS OF BLUE

Welcoming a distraction, Martin instructed Felipe to stop at every tequilafactory along the way to check out its product. They drove through miles andmiles of rolling blue agave fields. God knows how much tequila Martin ended upconsuming on this day trip. He lost count. But he was sober enough to rememberone extraordinary place.

As soon as he entered the factory, he knew it was different. It was rather smalland unusually clean, with wide open spaces and plenty of light and fresh air.Above all, there was a noticeable sense of calm. The property, situated near thehighest point of the region, consisted of sparse old adjoining buildings on theside of a hill overlooking a muddy creek. The distillery had been owned by thisfamily for generations, and they still made tequila the old-fashioned way,exactly as they had for 50 years. The place was a complete throwback. Thefactory had hardly been updated, and apart from a single customer in Japan,their tequila could not be found anywhere outside Mexico.

Its unique flavor was the result of the high-quality agave that was used and thelove, method, and care with which it was made. The only ingredient used waspremium Agave tequilana—Blue Weber agave—and nothing else. At thattime, few, if any, factories produced pure agave. Something would always beadded to dilute this expensive ingredient, or shortcuts would be adopted in anattempt to replicate the aged flavor, such as adding oak chips in the barrels toquickly create an oak color and flavor.

Martin took one sip of this tequila and knew he didn't need to visit any morefactories. Nothing could possibly top this. He bought a few bottles, wrapped upthe rest of his buying trip, and headed back to his funky little guest cottagein Hermosa Beach, California.

SPANISH FLY

People assume that Patrón has been around forever, but it was late in the yearof 1989 when Martin first discovered what led to this liquid treasure.

By then, we had been together only a few months, but it was one of those once-in-a-lifetime love affairs in which you connect instantly and on every level:physically, spiritually, and intellectually. We'd met in our middle years,already established and leading what we'd assumed were rich and full lives. Iwas a transplant from my native South Africa, having come to California in thelate 1970s to pursue a free-spirited, independent life and live close to mycherished sister and brother-in-law, Sharon and Len. After growing up in aparochial community and chafing under the restrictive rules of apartheid, Irelished my newfound freedom in America and saw opportunities to flourish aroundevery corner, eventually building a thriving financial consulting firm.

Martin was a native Californian who'd left his broken home while he was still inhis teens, seeking adventure in the Peace Corps, racing his sailing boat aroundthe world, and building a small hotel and restaurants. He was a consummateconnoisseur and entrepreneur who could turn any passion into a business. Notonly did he flow with endless brilliant ideas, he followed through and actuallybrought them to life. Possessing more drive and focus than anyone I'd ever met,this was a man with an expansive imagination and the extraordinary ability toturn fantasy into successful tangible reality. Finding our soul mates seemedinconceivable to us, since we had lived our lives without giving it one thought.It was the first time either of us had felt so truly and completely loved, andour world suddenly got bigger, brighter, and better in...