California Governor Gavin Newsom pulled in at least $410,000 last year from a sprawling network of wine estates, upscale bars, and hospitality ventures, all while running the nation's most populous state and facing a federal Department of Justice probe into his family's finances.
The figures come from Newsom's own economic disclosure, filed in March, and reviewed by the New York Post. Because California's disclosure rules require only broad income ranges rather than exact dollar amounts, the true haul could be significantly higher. The governor reported more than $100,000 from at least three separate wine-related revenue streams, and that's before counting a blind trust worth more than $1 million that holds additional wine investment companies.
For a man who has styled himself as a champion of working Californians, the disclosure paints a portrait of a governor whose private fortune flows freely from an industry built on elite connections, connections that trace back decades to one of the wealthiest dynasties in the state.
At the center of Newsom's holdings sits PlumpJack, the Napa Valley winery he founded with backing from the Getty family. The estate spans a 42-acre vineyard on a 57-acre plot, complete with a tasting room and production facilities. A second winery in Angwin covers 54 acres. A third is also based in Napa.
Then there are the premium labels. CADE Estate, perched on Napa's Howell Mountain, markets itself as producing "luxury wine in harmony with the environment", at $100 or more per bottle. Odette Estate Winery promises "elegant, balanced wines made to turn any moment into an everlasting memory." These are not modest operations.
Newsom's disclosure showed more than $100,000 in income from investment companies and business entities holding wine estates in their portfolio. He reported another $100,000-plus from a retail wine operation tied to PlumpJack. And he logged more than $100,000 from selling bottles to Benchmark Wine Group, a firm that describes itself as a "leading source of fine and rare wine for wine retailers, restaurants and collectors around the world."
On Benchmark's website, PlumpJack wines range from $47 for a 2018 Merlot to nearly $1,200 for a magnum of 2016 Cabernet Sauvignon Oakville Reserve.
The wine income is only part of the picture. Newsom's hospitality portfolio includes the WildHawk cocktail bar in San Francisco's Mission District, which he opened with his sister, and the Balboa Cafe, an upscale establishment he launched with a Getty family heir. The White Rabbit bar in the Marina District rounds out his San Francisco footprint.
Hospital management companies, whose specific names do not appear in the disclosure, operate some of these establishments and paid Newsom more than $100,000. A separate hospital management company that invested in Plumpjack Inn, a skiing lodge near Lake Tahoe in Olympic Valley, contributed more than $10,000.
Add it all up, and the governor's minimum documented income from wine and hospitality ventures crosses $410,000. His blind trust, which includes ownership in multiple wine investment companies such as Arielle Wines, is valued at more than $1 million, but its exact income is shielded from public view by the trust structure.
In 2020, Newsom reported a gross income of almost $1.5 million. The current disclosure suggests his business interests have remained highly profitable even as his $30 million fortune faces growing scrutiny from federal investigators.
None of this would exist without the Getty family, and the disclosure is a reminder of just how deeply those roots run. The Gettys, described as California's wealthiest family, played a central role in boosting Newsom's business empire from the start.
The relationship between the two families goes back generations. Newsom's father, William Newsom, was an attorney and appeals court judge who earned the Gettys' trust in the most dramatic way imaginable. On July 10, 1973, John Paul Getty III was kidnapped by the Italian Mafia. It was William Newsom who delivered the $2.2 million ransom to secure the young man's release.
That bond carried forward. Gavin Newsom founded PlumpJack off the back of Getty family connections. He launched the Balboa Cafe with a Getty son. The financial architecture of his wine empire rests on a foundation of inherited access to one of America's great fortunes.
Newsom has bragged about his business ventures over the years. But the disclosure reveals a governor who continues to profit handsomely from an industry he nominally stepped back from upon taking office.
After becoming governor, Newsom signed an executive order barring state agencies from doing business with his wine firms. On paper, it was a gesture toward ethics. In practice, it did nothing to limit the private income flowing from his holdings into his personal accounts.
The self-dealing questions go deeper. Campaign filings previously reviewed by the Post revealed that Newsom spent $50,000 of political donors' money at his own Plumpjack Wines. His Prop. 50 campaign alone routed $26,882.89 to Plumpjack for a fundraising event. His Campaign for Democracy Committee spent another $23,792.12 at the same business across two events in 2023.
Attorney Mark Meuser put it plainly:
"Routing campaign dollars to a business long tied to his name reinforces perceptions of self-dealing. Americans across the political spectrum are fed up with politicians who use their power for personal gain."
Political strategist James Christopher offered a more measured but no less damning assessment: "It's certainly not a good look for him and it does raise transparency issues."
The financial disclosures arrive at a particularly uncomfortable moment for the governor. Newsom recently revealed in a prerecorded video that the federal Department of Justice is conducting probes involving his wife, associates, and family tax issues. He called the investigations "politically motivated."
That defense may satisfy his political base, but it does not address the substance. Federal investigators are examining the financial arrangements of a governor whose personal wealth is intertwined with a complex web of wine companies, hospitality ventures, blind trusts, and management entities. The disclosure itself, limited by California's lax reporting requirements to broad income ranges, only hints at the full picture.
Newsom has pledged to eventually release his tax returns to the public. He has not done so yet.
The DOJ scrutiny comes as a guilty plea from his former chief of staff, Dana Williamson, has cast a long shadow over his inner circle. The governor dismissed that case as "just wrong," but the pattern of legal trouble around people close to him continues to grow.
Meanwhile, questions about Newsom's attention to the job itself have mounted. Travel records have shown the governor spent 229 days outside California since 2023, fueling accusations that he has been more focused on national ambitions than on governing the state whose taxpayers pay his salary.
Perhaps the most revealing thing about Newsom's economic disclosure is what it conceals. State rules require only general income ranges, not specific dollar amounts. The blind trust shields the full scope of his wine investment holdings. The hospital management companies that funnel income to him are not identified by name in publicly available reporting.
The $410,000 floor is just that, a floor. The actual number could be substantially larger. And separate allegations of massive fraud losses under Newsom's watch only deepen the contrast between the governor's private prosperity and California's public dysfunction.
Newsom built his fortune on family connections to one of America's richest dynasties, parlayed it into political power, and now collects six-figure income streams from luxury wine operations while governing a state where millions of residents struggle with the cost of living. His executive order banning state contracts with his firms was the thinnest possible firewall between his public duties and his private interests.
California's disclosure rules let him report his income in ranges wide enough to park a wine barrel in. He promises tax returns someday. Federal investigators, apparently, got tired of waiting.
When a governor's side business sells bottles for $1,200 apiece and his financial disclosures read like a wine list, the taxpayers footing his salary deserve a good deal more transparency than "eventually."
