Earl Brown & Sons Is Constantly Changing And Adapting

Constant Change

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Not many apple growers end up becoming winemakers, but then again, not many growers start out as research entomologists. So the best way to understand Earl Brown & Sons, a vertically integrated family business in Milton-Freewater, OR, is to start at the beginning.

Earl Brown began his career back in the 1950s, arriving at the Oregon State University research station in Hermiston. He did tree fruit insect research in Milton-Freewater, which is about 50 miles to the west in the Walla Walla Valley. In the late 1960s Earl, who today at 83 remains the patriarch, became a field man. He began buying small parcels of land and started farming on his own.

In 1977 he decided to start a packinghouse for two reasons. First, he believed that he had a better chance at long-term success if he vertically integrated the business. Second, Earl and his wife Lorraine wanted the whole family together, and the packinghouse provided employment. Today, their three boys and one girl are all involved. Bob runs the packinghouse, while Leonard and Ron do the farming. Nancy runs the winery/cidery, and her husband, Larry Kezele, is the food safety manager. Leonard, who serves as family spokesman, also has three nephews involved: Andrew, the winemaker and cidermaker, Jarod Brown is a horticulturist, and Dan Kezele is the warehouse manager and food safety director.

“Dad always wanted family to be involved it was his vision,” says a proud Leonard Brown. “He was able to bring his siblings back. There’s not many businesses that can do that bring them all back.”

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Keeping Cool

Earl Brown & Sons has remained successful through the years by constantly evolving, says Leonard Brown. They almost completely changed not only their apple variety mix, but how they grow them. For example, the majority of the 1,000 acres of apples they grow for fresh market are overhead-cooled. The only exceptions are Pink Lady and Golden Delicious, which aren’t bothered by the heat or sunshine if sprayed with clay material, and Granny Smith, which will get a blush if overhead-cooled.

With the rest of their varieties, mainly the Gala, Red Delicious, Fuji, and Braeburn, they determined cooling was critical as they end up with fewer physiological problems. On an average August day with temperatures about 90°F, they use 25 gallons per minute per acre for cooling, improving both internal quality but appearance.

“In our area, if there’s no overhead cooling,” he says simply, “You’ll get a sunburned apple.”

Overall, they pay extremely close attention to the weather and how their fruit is affected, says Brown. Weather stations —  they now have six of them — play a big part in apple production. They determined the stations were necessary because they farm in different microclimates, and because they no longer use organophosphate sprays.

“We can pinpoint sprays, such as ovicides and larvicides, because they’re so critical,” says Brown. “Without OPs, we could see the writing on the wall for them, you have to time your sprays much more precisely. Ten years ago there were very few weather stations, but now they enable us to be right on top of it.”

Going Vertical

Another way the family business has evolved is through further vertical integration, though some ventures come about just from being open to trying new things, says Brown. For example, his older brother Bob started making hard apple cider with a friend as a hobby. They formed a little business in 2001 for a year or two and then got to thinking that this might be a good way to utilize their culls. Then in 2006 the family realized they had a real opportunity on their hands.

There was an old pea cannery in town that was owned by a cousin that had been home to Watermill Foods until it was sold to TreeTop. It was now empty and TreeTop agreed to sell them the building. They also bought the name Watermill from TreeTop for one dollar. There they later decided to house the Blue Mountain Cider Company, but the building also houses their winery, aptly named Watermill (loosely Milton-Freewater backwards).

“Actually the reason we bought it in the first place was that we needed apple storage and it had a big cooler,” he says. “Only later did we decide to do the cidery and then the winery. It has a terrific cellar for barrel aging wine.”

By 2005 they had to buy good cider varieties like Winesaps and Pippins, so the following year they grafted over a Red Delicious block to the two varieties. Their 20-acre cider block, which also includes such varieties as Golden Russett and Hudson Gold Gem to balance sugar with acid, is 70% grafted to get production sooner.

“It will be in full production this year, and it worked out great,” says Brown. “That block is beautiful, and we don’t have to buy apples. And they don’t have to be perfect, either.”

It all fits in with the family’s philosophy, which started with a young researcher willing to experiment.

“My dad had a lot to do with it. You always have to look ahead,” says Brown. “Our business plan is focused on what people will want in the future. Any time we get the opportunity to do something, we do it.”

Try, Try Again

From the success Earl Brown & Sons has enjoyed, you might think they’ve got the Midas touch. They planted winegrapes, then went so far as to the launch their own winery, Watermill, and it’s worked out extremely well. But when it comes to planting new crops, that’s the exception, not the rule, says Brown.

He says their family believes very strongly that it’s important to experiment. However, you have to know when it’s time to abandon the experiment. For example, they tried planting asparagus, but like many other Northwest growers they had to get out of that because of the labor situation. Other countries, because of their cheap labor, could produce asparagus at a much lower cost.

Not all their fruit crops have worked out either, says Brown in his typically frank manner.

“Our apricot deal was a failure. The winter here took them out. We planted them twice. We seem to have rough winter here every six to eight years where we get 10 below zero,” he says. “With nectarines, it was the same thing. The winter took them out.”

Even one of the state’s signature crops, sweet cherries, didn’t pan out for them.

“We seemed to always get rain at the wrong time — rain was a real problem,” he says. “Also, cherries interrupted apple thinning. We had to harvest cherries right in the middle of apple thinning. Then the cherries got rained out a couple times and we said ‘The heck with that.'”

The moral of the family’s story might be that to be successful you have to learn, and to learn you have to fail. Perhaps Leonard’s brother Ron put it best.

“We’re known,” he says, smiling broadly,”as the family that will try anything.”

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