You were a highly skilled technician—a true tinkerer—and someone who always remained deeply connected to your hometown and the people here.
Together with two of your brothers, you founded our company in 1968. You grew up in humble circumstances—one of nine children on a farm in Telbrake.
Thankfully, it was enough to let you go to university. You earned your degree in engineering and found your true passion in it. We designed barns from the farmer’s perspective—you had the behavior of the chickens in mind.
You were firmly grounded—and you preferred to stay that way. The wider world was never really yours. We had to coax you into trips to Japan or the U.S. You were happy to leave the spotlight and the big trade shows to others. You were at your best at home, pencil in hand at the drawing board, working away on new ideas.
Willi, you could be stubborn at times—but it was a practical kind of stubborn. You would grumble about certain developments in the industry, only to come back a few days later with an improved technical solution of your own.
And you were a perfectionist. You always gave customers your very best—even if they didn’t want to pay for the “extras” you considered essential. That commitment is part of what has shaped our outstanding reputation to this day.
Customers loved you—and so did we. Even if, around here, we’re not exactly known for putting feelings into words. Many colleagues stood by your side for half a century.
It wasn’t until 2019, at the age of 81, that you felt it was time to retire. Together with your longtime companions, you wanted to take one last farewell journey—by ferry to Norway, reminiscing about the old days.
On the day you were due to leave, you suffered a stroke and never fully recovered. And yet you never complained—except, perhaps, when your football club, VfL Oythe, had a poor game. In your final years, your Lilo looked after you with such tender, devoted care. You were married for 66 years. Now you are gone—from her, and from all of us.
Willi, heaven has gained a truly good man—and a tinkerer who’ll probably take one look at heaven’s perches and redesign them on the spot.
Thank you, Willi.
