Sarah Kemp on Anthony Barton

Years ago, sitting in a leather-bound booth at Green’s Restaurant and Oyster Bar in St James waiting for Michael Broadbent, I looked up from my newspaper to see the familiar face of Anthony Barton, who was accompanied by his stylish wife Eva.  In his eighties, Anthony still had the power to stop you in your tracks: he was simply the wine world’s most charming and glamourous man.

I was naturally delighted to accept their invitation to join them while I waited for Michael, and when Michael appeared we asked the waiters to put the two tables together. I had a rule that no matter how wonderful a lunch was, I would always return to the office. I broke it that day.

Anthony was the most wonderful raconteur, catnip to women but equally an idol to many men. The four of us discussed everything apart from wine, from trips he and Eva had taken on trains, to where to find the best Pisco Sours, howling with laughter as tale after tale was told; it was only when I saw through the windows the glow of the yellow lamps outside, and the waiters discreetly setting up for dinner that I realised that my octogenarian friends and I were being quietly ushered out.

Born in Ireland and raised on a magnificent estate, Straffan House in County Kildare (which is now the exclusive K Club, a 5-star golfing resort) he attended Stowe, the English public school, then Cambridge, where he studied modern languages. Two years after university, he joined his uncle Ronald in Bordeaux, where he didn’t work at the estates, Châteaux Léoville Barton and Langoa Barton, but at the family négociant firm Barton & Guestier. It was the only way he was going to receive a salary (he told me that Uncle Ronald was not keen on paying him), as the estates were losing money. Uncle Ronald retired in 1984, and Anthony was finally able to take up the reins.

Over my years at Decanter magazine, I got to know him and his family, and a beautiful, invariably hand- written letter from Anthony was always a joy to receive. Anthony was the epitome of the country gentleman – tall, elegant, with immaculate manners, he immediately made you feel you were the only person worth talking to. He was one of the few proprietors who actually lived in the Medoc, where he entertained in the 18^th century chateau Langoa Barton with effortless ease, usually with one of his beloved Red Setters by his side.

His fan club was huge and he was a hero to many a British wine merchant, not only for the style of wine he produced, quintessential claret, but for his reasonable policy on pricing. I was not surprised when I undertook a survey of Decanter readers, asking them for their favourite Bordeaux, that Château Léoville Barton came out on top. He was no follower of fashion, didn’t believe in green harvesting, his wines were about balance, elegance and drinkability, always classically St Julien. Only his great friend Jean-Michel Cazes of Château Lynch-Bages had such a strong following in Britain. Steven Spurrier once told me that, rather like dogs, wines take after their proprietors, and it seemed as Anthony’s wines always had that effortless authentic quality that comes from not trying to manipulate what isn’t there.

In 2007, he was an easy choice to be honoured with the Decanter Man of the Year award. He was one of Bordeaux’s greatest ambassadors, with his glorious sense of humour, Anglo-Irish charm and devastating good looks; he was the opposite of the image of the haughty French château owner. There was genuine warmth and a glint in the eye which spelled fun.

We discussed the party to celebrate his award at The Square restaurant. What I remember most from that lunch was that when the coffee arrived, we hadn’t actually discussed anything much about the party, but a lot about who was tipped to win the BBC’s Strictly Come Dancing. He was a major fan of the show. Eventually, the party took place, at The Turf Club, and Anthony was thrilled to see on the front page of the Evening Standard that night that the footballer also named Barton was on the front page, for a misdemeanour. The guest list of course included the cream of the fine wine world, including old friends Johnny Hugel, Christian Pol Roger and Nicholas Soames MP.

The last time I saw Anthony was just before the pandemic. I had rung him to say I was in Bordeaux and would like to come by. He wasn’t receiving many visitors, as his health had been poor. He suggested I ring at lunchtime to see how he was. I was delighted to hear that melodious voice say, “Come by at 4.00pm, my man will have me ready.” I arrived to find him sitting in the salon, looking incredibly smart, as he always was, with a bottle of Champagne on ice for the two of us. Ready indeed! We talked about everything, his school, mutual friends, wine gossip, the family, dogs — it was another golden afternoon.

He was a brilliant custodian of Châteaux Léoville Barton  and Langoa Barton, but he was so much more. He was a mentor, friend, ambassador, and most of all life-enhancer who knew the place of wine at a table as a civilising beverage to aid friendship. He leaves behind his wife Eva and daughter Lilian, son-in-law Michel and their children Damien and Melanie, who today run the estates. He also leaves an army of friends and admirers across the world, whose lives have been blessed by knowing the truly remarkable Anthony Barton.

with thanks to Jean-Michel Cazes of Château Lynch-Bages for these wonderful photographs of Anthony Barton – and Jean-Michel – through the years.