History

Wolfgang Albert Kallenbach was born on the 9th of April, 1860, in Blackpool, to Diane and Ludwig Kallenbach, Sr., as their second son. On paper, he and his family were nobility from the duchies of Thuringia, but the woes of primogeniture had made all and any of that largely irrelevant, or would have, if his father weren’t obsessed with it, despite being 17th in line to a title. Instead of living in luxury somewhere in Germany, the Kallenbachs lead a routine upper-middle class existence, supported by Mr. Kallenbach’s investments in the textile industry.

As it often is when fragile male egos are involved, under the gilded surface life was rotten. For the first few years of his life, the rot had not yet spread so far that the little boy could notice. He had his older brother, Ludwig Jr., and his ailing maternal grandfather, Maxwell to keep him company (his father had no interest in spending time with his children, finding pre-school ages to be utterly uninteresting, and nothing his mother did besides giving affection ever interested him). Maxwell had been a pioneer of engineering in the textile industry, before his eyesight had failed him and his health had vanished. Still, he spent the last few years of his life teaching Wolfgang about the wonders of engineering, building toy trains and starting on his education nice and early. His older brother was a great playmate until he was old enough to start his education. Then Ludwig Jr. had a lot less time to spend with Wolfgang, and this became the first of many cracks in their relationship.

It is well known that all good things must come to an end. Wolfgang’s childhood was no exception. The first blow was the passing of Maxwell, followed closely by the premature birth of the third (and last) of the Kallenbach children - Johann. Losing his best friend in the whole world was hard enough for the child, but it was nothing compared to the hell that was raised once a disabled child had dared to join their ranks. Not that the child itself was the problem (annoying, yes, but harmless). No, this “curse of God” unveiled Ludwig Sr.’s true character. He could not stand when something didn’t go according to his carefully controlled plan, and having a freak like Johann be his child? Oh, he could not accept it. He would not accept it. He’d loudly and violently accuse poor Diane of cheating on him, that this could not be his child, for his seed would never produce such a mistake, and so on and so forth – and he only got more and more mad about it as the years went on, because Johann was a spitting image of his father.

From then on, Ludwig Sr. took a particular interest in his eldest son, forcing onto him the task of rectifying mistakes of the past and bringing back the glory that the Kallenbach name deserved. From the outside it looked like Ludwig Jr. was the golden child – he would get the best clothing, the best education and so on and so forth… Outfits tailor-made to hide the bruises and beatings Wolfgang wasn’t privy to, as the two Ludwigs spent less and less time at the family home. At the same time, Johann became their mother’s pride and travesty. The youngest Kallenbach was always clinging onto his mother’s skirt. Johann and a bottle of alcohol was all that interested the poor woman.

There was no one to pay attention to Wolfgang. In search of company the boy made a habit of associating with people outside of his class, which often enraged his father, but the fear of his father was not as large as Wolfgang’s need to be seen and heard. And, as the two Ludwigs spent less and less time at home, the more freedom Wolfgang had to do as he pleased.

Many a day was spent with factory workers, scullery maids, tailors, butchers, vagabonds and beggars, all the dregs of society the sight of which made his father explode like a poorly calibrated steam engine. Many misadventures were had, but amongst all of whom Wolfgang had met, one has left a far deeper mark on his life than any. John Wright, a Crimean war veteran who’d left his right leg in Russia and spent his meager existence begging on the streets of Blackpool. The story of the friendship of a boy and a man four times his age is a long one, but we shall stop only at its culmination.

When Wolfgang was 15, teenage angst and insecurities were getting the best of him. He was mad at his father and he was mad at his mother, mad at his brothers for existing – as teenagers do, no matter the century. In this case he had many good reasons to hate them all, but nothing stood close to the burning anger he had for his father. In a sequence of events too convoluted to recall, he came to find out that it was, in fact, Ludwig Sr. who had been cheating on his wife since before Johann was even born.

A screaming match ensued in the living room. All the bile he had for his family spilled out after ten years of gathering. He did not hesitate for a moment, even when he wanted to. The volcano had erupted and there was nothing he could do to make himself stop. And it cost him.

Beaten half to death, the teenager stumbled out of the house, head covered in blood, into the hot summer night. He does not remember what happened after. But when the dust settled several days later, his father was dead. Stabbed by a vagabond for refusing charity, they said. John Wright would hang for the murder. And Wolfgang? Left with several scars, he was alive. And… free? Of course, there was little reason to celebrate, but… No more. No more of that. They could heal now, right? They could be a family now, yes?

Wrong. Yes, it was far more quiet and peaceful now. Yet the events of that summer had widened the rifts between the Kallenbachs, rivaling the size of the oceans of the world.

The sun rose, and then it set, and life went on. As soon as he was able, Wolfgang left for London. School, work, a Bachelor of Sciences at University College of London, patronage from Ambrose Fleming and a position in EDISWAN as an electrical engineer, a rooftop flat in the capital of the empire, and all the freedom in the world…