A Few Words About Jack Robertiello

Photo “courtesy” Jack Robertiello (I swiped it from his website, www.jackrobertiello.com)

Jack Robertiello was a drinks writer before being a drinks writer was really a viable way to make a living. He was a trailblazer, extremely knowledgeable, an excellent writer, and a seriously snappy dresser. I’m sure he was a lot more than that to people who knew him better than I, but it’s still a pretty decent list of things to be remembered for.

I got to know Jack pretty early in my career, such as it is. The drinks writing community is pretty small, and when I got into it in the late aughts, it was a lot smaller, so all the New York writers would see each other frequently at all the booze events. I don’t remember the first time I sat next to Jack, but it was obvious straight off that he was a different breed from the us newbies. We were all pretty impressed the fancy dinners and press trips thrown our way by PR companies who wanted some friendly press, but Jack viewed it all with a gimlet eye, periodically puncturing the razzle-dazzle with a witty, sarcastic aside. To his credit, he never looked down on any of us, or at least he didn’t seem to. He was always kind, friendly, and forthcoming with advice, most of which boiled down to two main points:

First, don’t let the dog and pony show sway your opinion of what’s in the bottle, or prevent you from asking the questions that need to be asked.

And second, don’t do anything for free.

I didn’t listen to him early enough or often enough in either case, especially the doing-stuff-for-free part. For years my outlet was the Huffington Post, which to be fair got me on the map as a spirits writer, but didn’t pad my wallet at all. Jack, needless to say, did not approve. I’d see him on a press trip which I was attending because I wanted to get out of town for a few days on someone else’s dime, while it turned out some publication or other was actually paying Jack to go as some sort of fact-finding mission. Or I’d judge a cocktail competition as a favor to a friend and then see Jack there and find out he was getting a payday out of it. It wasn’t until years later that I saw his guidance, in part at least, as a vote of confidence in my writing, an exhortation that I could and deserved to get paid for what I was doing.

In fact, I’m not sure he’d even appreciate this little remembrance of him, because nobody’s paying me to write it. But in this case I hope he’d let it slide.

I wasn’t close friends with Jack, but it was always a pleasure to see him, and I’m forever grateful for his kindness and generosity of spirit. Godspeed, Jack and I hope I’ll someday get to sit at your table again.