The Origin of TT

Wade Dewoskin marine photo

It all started in 1979 when Wade Dewoskin showed up in the tiny town of Labadie with a suitcase full of cash… but to understand the genesis of Tall Trees, we have to go back a little ways and tell you about the kind of person Wade was. Now, Wade was a city boy through and through. He grew up in St. Louis and worked at his dad’s grocery store, learning the ins and outs of running a small business. He fell head over heels for the love his life, Lois, at seventeen years old. The two of them got married before he joined the Marines and shipped off to the Pacific. Over the years, they raised a happy family with three kids (their youngest daughter, Jane, is our co-founder) who in turn gave them a whole tribe of grandkids.

In their prime, Wade and Lois created one of the most iconic, fine dining restaurants St. Louis has ever seen. Port St. Louis was a true white table cloth establishment. With fresh seafood flown in daily and waiters dressed in white tie, they offered their patrons an unforgettable experience you couldn’t find anywhere else in the Midwest.

Located in the middle of Gaslight square (then later in Clayton), Port St. Louis found itself in the heartbeat of ’60s St. Louis. Jazz, go go dancers, booze and more… back in those days, STL was a real fucking vibe. A booming music scene with a culture of its own. Young people flocked to Gaslight Square looking for a good time, a strong drink and a chance to dance until daylight. And of course, the low-key dream of an encounter with one of the many movie stars and musicians who rolled through town.

Wade and Lois Dewoskin, Port St. Louis menu

Wade and Lois thrived as the proprietors of Port St. Louis. Wade was the guy that made everyone feel more important than they were. He loved to make people laugh and had a Paul Newman kind of cool about him. Lois was a welcoming and gracious hostess. With her kind, radiant soul, she always had a big smile and an effortlessly chic ensemble. Together, they wined and dined their customers and worked hard to build their little empire.

Over the years, they started a few other successful establishments, including Wade’s and Duke’s. The golden rule for their restaurants: “Make great food and keep it consistent. They’ll always come back.” We embrace that idea here at Tall Trees.


Wade and Lois loved to travel and explore the world. From Palm Beach to Yucatán to Paris, they were jetsetters in their own right. But Wade's favorite place in the world was the American Southwest. The Wild West dazzled him. Maybe it was because he grew up in the Gateway to the West or loved to watch Spaghetti Westerns - whatever it was, cowboy culture left an indelible mark on his understanding of personal freedom and fulfillment.

Wade was no rancher, that’s for sure. More like a gentleman cowboy. He had a deep appreciation of Western art with a penchant for Russell and Remington. He loved to go to art auctions in Cody and Santa Fe. And of course, always picked up a piece of Native American turquoise jewelry at the Palace of the Governors.

Wade and Lois Dewoskin Travel Collage

His closet had rows of custom boots made from exotic leathers… stingray, crocodile, ostrich, you name it. And if you picked a boot out of the lineup and peered in, you might stumble upon a loaded pistol or a glint of gold. The man had a timeless sense of style - a little Sinatra, a little John Wayne. He made the West his own.

He was the kind of guy that could rock a cashmere turtleneck and camel leather pants. But would also throw on a pair of Levis, cowboy hat and red bandana to go work the field.


Buying the farm was Wade’s chance to live out his country dreams. Within a few short years, Wade made a clearing in the woods and built a small house. A few years later, a barn was raised, then cattle and horses were bought and seeds were sown. He fell in love with the slow living and easy going. The farm became a gathering place for family and friends. A place for impromptu barbecues, lively barn parties, backyard birthdays and sleepy Sunday afternoons. He always said there’s no other feeling like the freedom to do whatever you want on your own piece of land.

Photos of Wade and Jane with horses

As Wade got older and the grandkids grew up, the family started to spend less time there. It happened slowly, as expected. One spring, the horses were sold off. The following season, vegetable seeds weren’t planted. A few more years passed and when the tractors started to break down, they were left parked and unused in the barn. While the land was still farmed for corn and soy, Wade was too old to keep everything going. The next generation wasn’t interested or their lives simply just didn’t allow it. Fields got overgrown and honeysuckle vines started taking over the front entrance. Soon enough, mice found their home in the empty farm house. While the Snyders still visited at least once a year and spent the odd holiday there, it just wasn’t the same place it used to be.


After Wade passed, Max's mom, Jane, inherited Tall Trees. As someone who moved around quite a bit as a kid, Max always longed to put down deep roots. The one place that was consistent in his life was the farm. He always dreamed of somehow bringing his love for the cannabis plant to the property. But, like most late 20-somethings, he was focused on building his career and starting our life as newlyweds in Denver.

Tall Trees Logo

When the 2018 Farm Bill passed, everything changed. Max started to seriously explore the possibility of growing hemp on Tall Trees. He secured a license to participate in the state’s pilot year of agricultural hemp. With our farmer, Jim, on board, Max and Jane set out to grow a small one-acre test crop in the upcoming season. The plan was to start slowly, try out genetics and see how well the crop would grow on our land. Then the pandemic hit.

I got laid off from my digital marketing job with a major cannabis MSO and Max was furloughed shortly after. The economy shut down. Suddenly, the reality of being stuck in a city apartment with no job prospects on the horizon hit us. So, we packed up our apartment and got the hell outta dodge. Driving across the Great Plains felt bittersweet, but the excitement for what lay ahead was palpitating.

We beelined it to the farm, crushing the drive in just over 16 hours. As the Uhaul (towing our Subaru) slowly careened around dark country roads, we started waxing poetic about our vision for the farm, the business and for our life. It was a cold, rainy April night, when we pulled into the pitch-black, overgrown driveway marked with a worn, hand-carved sign.

Feeling a combination of relief to have arrived and city-folk fear, our enthusiasm came to a screeching halt when the Subaru trailer got stuck in a foot and a half of mud by the barn. We tried to get it out… and obviously made it worse. Soaked to the bone, we trudged up to the farmhouse and entered our new home. Greeted by a few dead mice and a whole lot of cobwebs, we did the only thing we could. Sparked a joint, cracked open a few Zwickel lagers and dug into our Imo’s pizza.

In hindsight, our arrival at Tall Trees was a definite foreshadowing of the growing season ahead… it’s always fucking something.