Flying Home

1

Incredible things...

There. This is Walter's suitcase.

Uncle Walter had died,

shortly after his 90th birthday.

In November 2001,

his possessions arrived

in Switzerland, from Hawaii.

At my brother's,

in the family archives.

A whole container.

A whole life.

That is a very good photo.

That was him. Walter Otto Wyss,

known as WOW.

Honolulu, 31 May 1970.

Dear Mami,

In a way, I would like to fly home to you,

and stay until your 100th birthday.

But what could I do,

if I were to stay longer with you?

Prayers to you. Your son, Walter.

Casa San Carlo in Comano,

slightly above Lugano,

the house of Walter's mother,

my grandmother.

Our family home.

In 1939,

Uncle Walter left this place

as a young man.

Shortly afterwards, I was born.

For 60 years,

Walter lived in my head.

I don't know why.

My uncle in America.

Hero of my childhood.

In Comano, nothing has changed.

The same furniture,

the same smells,

and the feeling

that time has stood still.

As a child, I never really knew

if I was supposed to like it here,

or if I wanted to be far away.

Far away, like Uncle Walter.

In his picturebook-life,

everything had begun perfectly.

Loved and pampered by all - like me.

His parents -

Dr. med. Hans Oskar Ernst Wyss,

and Ida Wyss, ne Diener -

his most beloved mother.

Ours was a family of few words.

Not in front of the children!"

was often said at the table.

Everyone seemed to know

how to behave and what was a tabu.

Uncle Walter, too,

could not escape these rules.

On family photos,

he is usually at the side,

as if he did not belong properly.

He was the youngest, like me -

the most spoilt, like me,

and the best-looking.

Which was not be said of me

and, as a young engineer, he would

soon be able to afford all he wanted.

What was he like?

He was always a bit different,

a bit a loner.

He always went his own way...

a strange way.

August 1929.

Dear Papa, I have set up my garage

in your double garage in Zurich,

and am building my first car,

the W1.

I'm just using parts of disused cars.

It's great fun.

Perhaps my enthusiasm has to do

with your Electromobile of 1905.

April 1930.

Dear Mami, I'm sending you the

photograph of the two of us in the W1.

I'm so grateful for

your financial support,

and that you believe in me!

Did he take you for a drive?

Were you able to drive with him?

Yes... people did not really like going,

because he drove like mad.

- Like mad?

- Yes

I wasn't really so keen on

going for a drive with him.

August 1931.

Dear Papa,

My W2 is finally finished.

How do you like it?

My friends are quite thrilled.

I hope to be successful with this car.

Perhaps it will also help me

to become known abroad,

and to make contacts.

In Comano, I came across

a document that really shocked me:

A character reference,

which stated that Uncle Walter had

been sentenced to six weeks in prison.

As a 24-year old student,

he had hit a cyclist with his car.

The cyclist died.

What bothered me most,

was that for my family,

it was as if this tragic accident

had not taken place.

You didn't know that

he'd had an accident,

killing a cyclist?

No! Really? How terrible!

You also didn't know that

he had been to prison?

No, I don't know anything about it.

But 10 years later, for example,

one might be able to talk about it?

But why?

Well...

I don't think...

Don't you?

Well, I think...

you don't necessarily

need to talk about it.

Since you ask, about the accident -

it was probably hushed up,

but also, in this family,

things like that were

not spoken about to others.

The only person who told me

about the accident

was Elia Moghini,

Uncle Walter's childhood friend in Comano.

There are a few stories around.

The story of this accident.

I had an accident myself once,

with my car.

I drove down from Biasca to Bellinzona.

Thank goodness there was

a driver from Zurich behind me.

A little child ran after his ball,

jumped from his garden and

suddenly ran into the street,

right in front of me.

I hit him with the car, and killed him.

You? A child?

Yes, a child.

I was lucky,

that the driver from Zurich,

who was behind me,

had witnessed the incident.

He testified that I could not

have done anything,

as the child suddenly appeared

out of a hedge and on the street.

He hit his head on the sidelight.

He was dead immediately.

A three-year-old child.

I can tell you:
You never forget that.

I am sure Walter was

deeply affected by his accident.

Definitely.

He was an attractive man, Walter.

Did you know each other well?

We were more than friends.

We were like brothers, Walter and I.

That is why I became a mechanic.

Because Walter was a mechanic.

Oh?

We learned of Walter's accident

from his father, Dr Wyss.

He came to our house

and told us what had happened.

But Walter never spoke of it.

Not even with me,

even though I was his closest confidant.

I even did not know until now

that he had spent time in prison.

After Walter had done his time,

and finished his engineering studies,

he decided to change his life:

He emigrated to America.

Zurich, 20 February 1939.

My dears,

our farewell left a deep

and wonderful impression.

I gratefully felt that

you were sad to bid me farewell,

and that you still harbour

a true love for me.

It is only now that

I am beginning to realize

the great sacrifice

you have made for me,

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