Talking Philosophy with a Former Hells Angels
I’ve known Andi Gmeiner for about 30 years. About four years ago, I asked him for an interview for a newspaper I was writing for. We were sitting on his rooftop terrace on a hot summer day with my then seven-year-old daughter. Andi was in a moody state, clearly not in the mood for an interview, but he let it happen anyway.
Andi: Are you a reporter now? I thought you were a social worker.
Me: This is just my hobby.
Andi: You still don’t know what you want to be in life? You’re almost 50 now. And you’re still studying?
Me: Philosophy. Many philosophers were a bit like outlaws, Diogenes, Henry David Thoreau, Alan Watts, and so on.
(Andi looks at my seven-year-old daughter, who came along to see a “Hell’s Angel” up close, especially his angel-wing tattoo. The last time she met Andi she was five, at a funfair, where he took her on some rides, but she doesn’t remember that.)
Andi: And what’s this, you playing Pippi Longstocking with your braids?
(My daughter doesn’t quite understand, but laughs and nods. She finds him entertaining.)
Me: We got to know each other better after you accidentally broke a bottle over my head in the Seeger Bar in 1995. Do you remember if it was mineral water, wine, or spirits?
Andi: Hit you over the head with a bottle? Are you crazy? Never happened. Must’ve been someone else, you can cross that out right away.
Me: You’re Austrian. Where and how did you grow up?
Andi: This feels like apolice interrogation. I usually just say: no comment, no comment.
Me: You can’t just say no comment now. You must’ve grown up somewhere.
Andi: Born in St. Gallen, in the cantonal hospital. But came into the world as a Viennese.
Me: Why didn’t you ever become Swiss?
Andi: Didn’t have the money.
Me: Maybe you’ll tell me a bit about your training. What did you want to become?
Andi: I wanted to be a baker or confectioner, that would’ve suited me. But after career school, I did a trial apprenticeship in plumbing and heating, and then a full apprenticeship. Back then, it paid well, and I quickly got a foothold in the trade. I soon led construction projects, six apartment blocks in Goldach for the Sulzer company. They threw me into cold water, and that did me good. After that, I built a solid reputation. You know what I mean?
Me: Yeah, sure. But let’s talk about your second career. What was the biker scene like in your youth in St. Gallen?
Andi: First off, don’t write “biker.” We were a motorcycle club. Back then, there were still “moped kids.” That’s how it started, like a boys’ gang. Some were from Neudorf, Oberstrasse, Riethüsli.
Me: Where were you from?
Andi: Riethüsli.
Me: Were there girls involved?
Andi: No women. We weren’t allowed to ride double on the mopeds. (laughs)
Me: How old were you then?
Andi: You could ride mopeds at 14. At 16, 17, you were in your apprenticeship. At 18, you could take the 125cc motorcycle test.
Me: How did the local St. Gallen motorcycle club, the Unicorns start? How did you come up with the name?
Andi: You know what a unicorn is, it’s a symbol of freedom. The Last Unicorn by the band America was our song. We just met, hung out, did things together. You know, it was also about meeting girls, sometimes maybe stealing each other’s girls.
Me: Like the myth of the kidnapping of the Sabine women after the founding of Rome?
Andi: Yeah, exactly. Pretty much that.
Me: And then?
Andi: In the end, we thought: why always against each other? Why not together?
Me: And who founded the Unicorns?
Andi: Jack and I founded the club in the early eighties, in St. Fiden, Neudorf. At first we were six or seven.
Me: Weren’t there bigger motorcycle clubs claiming territory?
Andi: No, the Hells Angels were in Zurich and didn’t care about St. Gallen back then. We were our own motorcycle club and, over time, got to know like-minded friends, the Broncos from Bern, the Tombstone Rats from Wil, the Evel Rowdies from (he points somewhere), the Hurricans from Ticino, or rather, Italy.
Me: What were your gatherings like?
Andi: Everyone organized a party. We had a clubhouse on Bedastrasse, that was a
long time ago. You can’t invite that many people to your house, right? But you could always bring your girlfriend to the clubhouse. In the end, we were sixteen Unicorns.
Me: What was the club philosophy?
Andi: Rides, meeting like-minded people, having fun with the bikes. Talking shop, who’s got the better machine, rebuilding them, whatever.
Me: And drinking tea together too?
Andi: No, definitely not. Don’t make it sound stupid.
Me: You don’t have to give me the politically correct version.
Andi: I do, you’re such a lefty.
Me: How did the club make money?
Andi: We didn’t make money. Everyone paid monthly dues to cover the clubhouse.
Me: The Unicorns were taken over by the Hells Angels in the nineties. How did that happen?
Andi: We wanted international connections with motorcycle friends. Just being local wasn’t challenging anymore. And the details are nobody’s business. Anyway, we started a Hells Angels charter in St. Gallen.
Me: Let’s talk about the Hells Angels.
Andi: We were absorbed as a club. We were prospects for a year, kind of trial members, still wearing our Unicorns patch. We had to help out at the Zurich clubhouse, serving beer and such, or wherever needed, even abroad. Everyone had to go to Zurich and be tested, to see if we fit. We had to earn our place. We wanted to become Hells Angels. That meant giving something, not just getting the patch and being done. They wanted to get to know us, and we wanted to get to know them.
Me: You met Sonny Barger, the legendary founder of the Oakland charter, in Prague.
Andi: Yeah, at a World Run. I still have photos. You don’t know all Angels at once, there were guys from Italy, Brazil, California.
Me: What was he like? Did you talk to him?
Andi: Yeah, I did. A really cool and calm guy. Caring, too. That’s important.
Me: At some point, your time with the Hells Angels ended. Can you just leave like that?
Andi: Yeah, you can. Stop asking like an interrogator.
Me: All right. I’ll read you a few philosophical quotes, you tell me what you think.
Andi: Does it even matter what I think?
Me: It does to me.
Andi: Fine, go ahead.
Me: “Man is condemned to be free,” said Jean-Paul Sartre, the existentialist. Do you agree, about making your own choices and taking responsibility?
Andi: Sure, I’d agree. There’s a poem we had to learn in school at twelve, Life is No Game of Dice by Alfred Huggenberger. It’s long, but the gist is: Life is no game of dice, we choose both path and goal... A firm will bends the world. Basically: don’t wait for miracles, work and keep going. That’s how I see it.
Me: Epictetus said, “Freedom is secured not by the fulfillment of one’s desires but by the removal of desire.” Meaning, you don’t become free by getting what you want, but by mastering your wants.
Andi: There’s truth in that. You have to give things up to gain freedom.
Me: I think Epictetus means, if you slave away for years just to buy a BMW, it’s not you who owns the BMW; the BMW owns you.
Andi: Now that’s a rotten question. I worked so I could ride, to feel the wind on my face. That’s freedom.
Me: Thoreau once wrote about an Englishman who went to India to get rich, then planned to return to England to live as a poet. Thoreau asked: why didn’t he just move into an attic right away?
Andi: You can’t be free in an attic, there’s no wind or sun.
Me: You could open the skylight.
Andi: There were no skylights in the 19th century.
Me: Then let’s say he could’ve moved to a mountain hut.
Andi: There are no mountain huts in England. And look, on my terrace, your daughter gets a strawberry ice cream cone, not philosopher’s oatmeal like at your place.
Me: That’s kind of you, Andi.
Me: Next quote, Austrian philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein: “What can be said at all can be said clearly; and whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must remain silent.”
Andi: No. You have to be able to discuss things.
Me: Wittgenstein meant we shouldn’t talk about metaphysics, about God, for example.
Andi: God exists. He helps me, and I help those who need it.
Me: Wittgenstein thought we shouldn’t talk about what we can’t know.
Andi: I can’t know if it’ll rain tomorrow either.
Me: The next one’s from Karl Marx.
Andi: Oh no, not him.
Me: “Philosophers have only interpreted the world in various ways; the point, however, is to change it.”
Andi: Well, that’s what we did when we founded the Unicorns, right?
Me: True.
Andi: See?
Me: Leibniz wrote Theodicy, claiming we live in “the best of all possible worlds.” What do you think?
Andi: There are humans, animals, insects, and we don’t even know what’s on other planets. Maybe they’re not as selfish as we are. An animal kills to survive. A human can kill for pleasure, no animal does that. That’s something to think about.
Me: So you mean we can improve ourselves?
Andi: Yes. Together, not against each other. Live and let live. Work together, not against each other, that’s how we’ll solve today’s problems.
Me: Like when you founded the Unicorns.
Andi: Yeah, something like that.