Hunter was a tan, middle-aged man with a head of thick brown hair and dark glasses. I responded politely but didn’t say yes to anything he took that as an invitation to bound into my office in Palo Alto one day, carrying bags and cases. There wasn’t much, but there was enough to show that Hunter might not be a total nutter. I began searching the web for information about Weygers. Memorabilia, and artifacts, and interviewing all his family, friends and “I have been collecting his art, invention patents, photos, Genius artist who’d invented the flying saucer almost a centuryĮarlier. Promised to deliver “the greatest nonfiction story never written” about a Glance, Hunter’s email seemed to fit squarely in the crazy pile. Landers who either thought they were the next Musk or wanted me to pass Published a biography of Elon Musk and was receiving scores of messagesįrom people with free-energy machines, teleportation devices, and Mars Somewhere along the way, he decided to devote his life to telling Weygers’s story, even if it meant spending millions of dollars-and losing himself. The more Hunter learned about Weygers, the more he began to emulate and revere him, transforming from an opportunistic art dealer to an acolyte. The artist-engineer ran from fame and riches, focusing instead on hard work and ingenuity. Weygers invented things because something inside him demanded it. As he spent countless hours researching the man, he began to see him as a symbol of a purer time in Silicon Valley. Over the next decade, however, Hunter’s relationship with Weygers became far more complex than he could have imagined standing in that warehouse. He’d buy up as much of Weygers’s work as possible, he decided, then bring the great man’s legacy to the world-and make a fortune. “I was hooked,” said Hunter, who’d long pursued the art dealer’s dream of turning an obscure talent with a compelling background into a major figure among collectors. And amazingly, Weygers was a world-class engineer who in the late 1920s designed a flying saucer, a machine he called the Discopter.įischer had known Weygers well before the forgotten Renaissance man died in 1989, and his stories kept Hunter mesmerized for hours. He taught them to make their own tools, sculpt, and embrace his minimalist, recycling-centric philosophy. He also wrote books on blacksmithing and toolmaking and shared his talents firsthand with youngsters willing to camp on the property. In separate workshops he produced sculptures, highly stylized photos, wood carvings, and home finishings. Weygers spent close to half a century as the valley’s hidden da Vinci, crafting his home over the years from reclaimed wood and junkyard scrap metal, using tools he made on the premises. The sculptures came with an incredible story. “I bought the whole collection of 30 Weygers statues.” As he surveyed the room and saw one magnificent work after another, Hunter knew he had to have them. “I freaking started crying,” he later said. Its beauty overwhelmed Hunter, leaving him giddy and a little dazed. Fischer explained that the sculpture, made by an unknown artist named Alexander Weygers after World War II, represented humanity rising up to find hope in the darkest of times. The first sculpture Hunter saw, Up With Life, was a foot tall and depicted an adult’s face morphing vertically into a hand cradling an infant. He guided his friend through the gritty warehouse toward a collection of bronze sculptures he thought might be of particular interest. Ahead of the auction, he invited Hunter to come see if there was anything he liked. Things got bad enough that Larry Fischer, the owner of a sculpture foundry, decided to auction off pieces he’d held on to for years to help make ends meet. Artists and galleries accustomed to a steadyish stream of wealthy collectors fell on hard times. The financial crisis had come to paradise. For Randy Hunter, a local art dealer, that moment arrived in 2008. For others, it’s an earthquake or-God knows-a wildfire. Manicured existence goes in a turbulent, unexpected direction.įor some people, it’s a real estate shock. The gentle rhythm of this place gets disturbed. Retirees who want to meditate on the good life. Ideas room to grow, have attracted artists to the area, as well as It’s neither too hot nor too cold, and the fresh Giving them views of the Pacific on one side and pine and cypressįorests on the other. Wealthy people have built ranch-style houses into the mountains, Photo courtesy of the Weygers Foundation.Īn idyllic ease permeates California’s Carmel
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