The story of Gheorghe Ștefănescu, posthumously nicknamed “Bachus,” begins in 1971 in his wine warehouse on Calea Griviței, near the intersection with Șoseaua Nicolae Titulescu. Over the years, his operations became legendary for their audacity, ingenuity, and impact on Romanian society during the communist era. Ștefănescu’s name would later inspire the film Secretul lui Bachus, which dramatized one of the most fascinating criminal cases in the country’s recent history.

The Beginnings of a Wine Empire

Gheorghe Ștefănescu’s criminal system can be divided into two distinct phases. The first, from March 23, 1971, to March 19, 1974, was a preparatory period in which Ștefănescu built the financial foundations for his later, more ambitious schemes. 

During this period, authorities considered him to be “keeping clean accounts,” as he personally supervised every operation.

The second phase, from 1974 until his arrest in 1978, marked the real expansion of his empire. The keyword during these years was “blending.” According to prosecutors’ indictments, Ștefănescu mixed cheaper wines with pricier varieties to sell them at higher prices. 

Seven-lei-per-liter wine was combined with nine-lei wine and sold as nine-lei wine, while nine-lei wine was blended with twelve-lei wine and sold at the higher price.

His operations extended to spirits as well. Yeast alcohol, with an alcohol content of 30 degrees, was mixed with plum brandy of 24 degrees, diluted with water to reach the correct alcohol level of 24 degrees, and sold as “plum brandy.” 

This meticulous attention to detail ensured that the final product matched the labeling expectations of consumers while generating substantial profits.

The Scale of the Operation

Ștefănescu’s procurement strategy reveals the scale of his enterprise. Between 1971 and 1978, he acquired 138 wagons of 7-lei wine and 24 wagons of 9-lei wine, while he only purchased 8 wagons of the 12-lei variety. 

The illicit profit, calculated by investigators at 1,053,668 lei, was entirely pocketed by Ștefănescu through an ingeniously organized system. He personally maintained records, rotated salespeople to prevent them from knowing daily earnings, and periodically rewarded them with cash, wine, or food to ensure loyalty and silence.

The case quickly captured public attention, both during the communist era and after 1990, becoming a symbol of ingenuity in the shadow economy.

Investigations and Stories of the Securitate

Popular narratives claimed that Ștefănescu was arrested by accident, supposedly due to a Securitate officer whose daughter’s wedding had been delayed. The wine purchased for the wedding allegedly soured while in storage, supposedly triggering suspicion. 

However, investigators dismissed this account. Ilie Nejloveanu, a former officer involved in the case, recalled:

“It’s common courtesy to give wine to the Securitate. Why say it was an officer? Any peasant would have stored wine for weddings anyway.”

Costică Voicu, former chief of the Romanian Police, described the story as folklore, emphasizing that the arrest was linked to gold transactions rather than spoiled wine. A planned sting operation following a gold purchase by Ștefănescu led directly to his capture. 

During the search of his home and warehouse, authorities discovered gold and one million lei—an enormous sum at the time—hidden in a specially constructed balcony wall. The operation was codenamed “Fermitatea ’78.”

Ștefănescu and the Black Market

Gheorghe Ștefănescu was deeply connected to the illicit networks of the 1970s, exploiting the gaps in the state system while maintaining a veneer of legality. He targeted vineyards in Cotești, Vrancea County, drawn by the large quantities of wine and high quality of the local product. 

From 1974 onward, his operations expanded, involving directors, warehouse managers, and cellar workers, all bribed with goods, cash, or gold.

The logistics were equally ingenious. Wine transported from Vrancea to Bucharest was manipulated on paper: the last digit on transport documents was changed from “1” to “l” (liters), and figures were altered to hide the true quantity. 

Drivers were bribed to falsify events such as rest breaks or mechanical problems, allowing a single document to cover multiple illegal transports. Payments to drivers ranged from 1,000 to 2,000 lei per run.

Corruption and Control

By the late 1970s, Ștefănescu’s operation had evolved into a sophisticated, familial-style mafia. According to Voicu:

“The Ștefănescu group was airtight, mafia-style. Upward connections for protection, lateral ones for suppliers and transport. He acted directly, paying bribes in gold, currency, or CEC bonds. Everyone knew their role. He dictated operations, knew the value of everything, and controlled the network with precision.”

Despite being officially employed with a monthly salary of 2,000 lei, Ștefănescu’s real income came from his illicit wine operations, which had been carefully structured to evade detection. He was perceived by local authorities and party officials as a hardworking, upright man, while behind the scenes, he orchestrated the entire system.

A Mafia Boss in the Wine Industry

Costică Voicu described him as a classic mafia figure:

“He began at the warehouse level and built a profitable enterprise. Employees were treated like family. He was the boss, taking a share of every transaction. He was rewarded by the party for his achievements. Elegant, meticulous, respected—he was the total master of his world.”

Ștefănescu ensured that his sons were integrated into the business. Mircea, 27, managed a wine warehouse near Pieței Matache, while Gabi, 21, apprenticed under his father. 

Both were later convicted in the same case: Gabi served three years, and Mircea fifteen, though he was released after ten years. Tragically, both sons died shortly after their release, weakened by their imprisonment.

Public Memory and the Legacy

Those who knew him referred to him affectionately as “nea Gică,” not “Bachus,” which was a cinematic creation. 

He was respected in the cooperatives and known to food industry workers and craftsmen alike. People recalled his warehouse as a place where some of the best wine in Bucharest could be found, including rare varieties like “Vin Pelin.”

The original warehouse on Calea Griviței no longer exists, replaced by urban developments, though Mircea Ștefănescu’s warehouse remains nearby. Locals remember the order, cleanliness, and immense barrels that filled the facility—signs of the meticulousness of Gheorghe Ștefănescu’s operations.

The System and Its Downfall

The genius of Ștefănescu’s system lay in its combination of discretion, calculation, and hierarchical control. He managed every transaction, knew the value of every item, and ensured loyalty through carefully calibrated incentives. 

Even during inspections, his operations appeared legitimate. Yet, his reliance on gold as a medium eventually triggered his downfall, leading to his arrest in 1978.

The case of Gheorghe Ștefănescu remains emblematic of Romania’s shadow economy during the communist era—a story of audacious entrepreneurship, family loyalty, and the complex interplay between legality and corruption. 

It also serves as a historical backdrop to Secretul lui Bachus, immortalizing the legend of a man who navigated the thin line between law and profit with extraordinary skill.

From his early manipulations of wine and spirits to the sophisticated bribery networks and clever accounting tricks, Gheorghe Ștefănescu demonstrated ingenuity, courage, and cunning, albeit outside the law. 

His legacy, intertwined with tragedy, film, and folklore, continues to fascinate historians, journalists, and cinephiles alike, ensuring that the name “Bachus” endures as a symbol of both ambition and the limits of power in the Romanian communist era.

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