How John June Lewis Bottled Freedom After WWII

In the shadow of Prohibition's end, while California vineyards grabbed headlines, a Black sharecropper from Virginia dared to plant grapes and bottle his own wine. John June Lewis Sr. wasn't chasing fame; he was claiming freedom. His story, unearthed from faded records, reveals how one man's vines defied Jim Crow and industry gatekeepers, producing estate wines at Woburn Winery from 1940 to 1974. This is the kind of legacy that rewrites wine history.

From Battlefields to Barrels

John June Lewis Sr. returned from World War II's European vineyards transformed. Stationed in France, he tasted the earthy thrill of simple table wines, far from the stiff Bordeaux auctions dominating headlines.

Back in Virginia by the late 1930s, Lewis received 193 acres deeded by Armistead Burwell; this was family land with tangled roots in slavery's aftermath. He took 10 acres of that land in Clarksville, Virginia, and planted sturdy hybrid grapes. Those from the outside looking in at what Lews was doing didn't have much optimism for the operation. There wasn't much optimism as the state's wine industry crumbled after phylloxera hit in the 1920s, leaving behind stereotypes of scuppernong swill rather than sophistication.

On top of a decaying wine industry in Virginia, the lack of bank loans for Black farmers meant Lewis would have to bootstrap the entire operation. He practiced hand-tilling and grafting hardy varieties like Norton and Catawba, both suited to Virginia's humid clay soils.

By 1940, Woburn Winery opened, America's first Black-owned estate operation post-Repeal. Lewis vinified light reds for farm tables, sweet whites echoing his French epiphany, and selling locally when Napa wouldn't glance south.

Defying the Odds

Lewis faced triple barriers: racial exclusion (no Black members in wine trade groups), capital drought (USDA loans bypassed minorities), and terroir doubt (appellation humidity bred rot). Yet his wines endured critiques in trade rags, praised for "rustic vigor" that cut through fried chicken or ham hock better than any imported jug.

Lewis's grapes thrived where others failed, proving Virginia's potential decades before Monticello revivals. Peak output reached 5,000 cases per year, sold locally, and distributed to D.C. speakeasies and churches.

While I cannot find tasting notes of his red wines, what I do know is that the Norton grape yields inky, brambly wines with tobacco notes with high acidity. I could see how wines made from Norton, at the time, would have paired nicely with fatty BBQ/ slow-cooked pork.

Lessons for Modern Drinkers

John June Lewis Sr.'s story makes you reflect on the wine industry's stubborn lack of diversity, a barrier that persists despite decades of progress claims. Black-owned wineries still represent less than 1% of all U.S. wineries, (the numbers are even worse in Canada), minority entrepreneurs own just 4% of vineyards nationwide, and less than 2% of Blacks hold executive roles in the industry. This reveals how gatekeeping, from capital access to trade networks, stifles change.

Lewis's story is one of the main drivers of the Black Grapes event held annually during Black History Month. It is important to give Black creators a platform in an industry that has long overlooked them, and just as important to bring the community to them.

For me, hosting Black Grapes means reclaiming wine's narrative, ensuring pioneers like Lewis inspire the next wave of vintners and drinkers alike.