Two versions of the Old Sugar Mill story are circulating in Clarksburg right now. The one getting repeated in press coverage goes like this: a new owner, Highland Pacific Capital, stepped in and saved the landmark. That version isn't false. It's just missing the part that actually explains why there was anything left to save. For roughly six months, before Highland Pacific ever appeared, the fourteen small businesses operating inside the Old Sugar Mill kept the place running themselves.
Here's how it actually unfolded. The mill's longtime owner also ran Clarksburg Wine Company, the custom-crush facility housed inside the same building. When that owner died in June 2025, both the property and the production operation tied to his name landed in limbo at the same time. Foreclosure paperwork followed. For the dozen-plus wineries paying rent inside the building, that meant a landlord who no longer existed and a lender who hadn't decided what to do with the property.
What the Tenants Actually Paid For
Rather than wait it out, the tenants organized. They formed what local coverage has called the Old Sugar Mill Tenants Group, pooling money to cover landscaping, utilities, and the basic bills that keep a building from going dark. David Ogilvie of Silt Wine Company led the effort, telling CapRadio the immediate goal was simply to keep the doors open and honor the events already on the calendar while the property changed hands. Roger Smith of Bump City Wine Company described the period more bluntly to ABC10, calling it "a big river of uncertainty going around."
The trade-offs got specific fast. Some wineries shifted their actual production off-site during the legal limbo, finishing out their 2025 vintages at outside facilities so their Clarksburg tasting rooms could stay open to visitors. That distinction matters for anyone pouring a glass at the mill this season: the pour happened here, but the crush that produced it may well have happened somewhere else. It's a detail that never shows up in the tourism copy, but it's the reason the tasting rooms never closed.
The Wineries Behind the Doors
The roster shifts slightly depending on when you check, a byproduct of leases in transition, but the current lineup includes names that have been part of the building for years:
- Heringer Estates
- Carvalho Family Wines
- Three Wine Company
- Elevation Ten Winery
- Due Vigne
- Draconis Winery
- Bump City Wine Company
- Silt Wine Company
- Vino De Oro
- Scott Harvey Wines
That Carvalho name isn't incidental. John Carvalho Jr. bought the abandoned mill in 2000 and led the renovation that turned an idle beet-sugar refinery into a working wine destination in the first place. Built in 1934, with equipment shipped in by rail from Utah the following year, the building processed sugar beets grown in Delta soil until the refinery closed in 1993. It sat empty for seven years before Carvalho's conversion gave it a second life. A quarter century later, his family's winery is still pouring inside the same walls, which means the person who founded this place's second act has now watched it survive a third one.
The Sale That Made Headlines
Highland Pacific Capital closed on the property around Christmas 2025, according to reporting from the Sacramento Bee picked up by Hoodline. The company put Jobin Randhawa in charge of day-to-day operations, and he's laid out a three-part plan: re-sign the tenants' leases, bring weddings and large events back onto the calendar, and restore the custom-crush operation so wineries can go back to producing on-site instead of trucking grapes elsewhere.
This is the point where the story became news everywhere else, and it's easy to see why. A new owner with a stated plan to invest, rather than break up the property for other uses, is a genuinely good outcome for a building full of small businesses. Tenants told the West Sacramento News-Ledger they were relieved the new owner seemed inclined to "build up rather than tear down." But the coverage that starts here treats the sale as the turning point, when the tenants' survival effort is what made there be a viable business left for anyone to buy.
What's Still Unfinished
The part of this story that hasn't wrapped up yet is the least visible part: the paperwork. The custom-crush facility and several liquor licenses were still registered in the late owner's name as of early 2026, and transferring them requires approval from California's Department of Alcoholic Beverage Control, a process that can stretch out if there are administrative objections. Randhawa told the Sacramento Bee that "ABC says there is a path forward," while confirming Highland Pacific is also applying for fresh permits as a backup in case the transfers take too long.
That means the headline framing, that the mill is "back," is closer to a plan than a completed fact. The tasting rooms are open. The website still markets weddings and corporate events. But the actual production license that would let Clarksburg Wine Company crush this year's grapes on-site again is still working its way through a state agency, not a press release.
Harvest Season, With an Asterisk
That distinction lands with particular weight right now. Late September is grape harvest time across the Clarksburg AVA, a growing region known for Chenin Blanc and Petite Sirah that thrives in the Delta's fertile, low-lying soil. The mill's own events calendar has kept moving through the season, including a Farm-to-Fork kickoff concert in September, and weekend food trucks are still showing up the way they always have. From the parking lot, nothing looks different.
Behind the tasting counter, it might be. Until the license transfer clears, this year's crush for some of these labels may still be happening at an outside facility, the same workaround tenants leaned on during the worst of the foreclosure uncertainty. It's not a problem for anyone pouring a glass this weekend. It's simply the honest answer if you ask a tenant whether "Old Sugar Mill" on the label means the wine was actually made inside the Old Sugar Mill this particular vintage.
The reason there's a comeback story to tell at all is that a group of small business owners decided to keep paying the electric bill on a building they didn't own, for a landlord who no longer existed, on the bet that someone reasonable would eventually buy it. Highland Pacific Capital gets to write the next chapter. The tenants wrote the one that made sure there was a building left to write it in.
If you're a longtime Clarksburg resident, a Delta landowner, or someone weighing a move into this part of the river corridor, this kind of ground-level detail is exactly what shapes real decisions here. Jennifer Kirtlan Real Estate Group has spent decades watching how places like this evolve, and we're always glad to talk through what's happening in the neighborhoods we call home. Contact us anytime.
