Charles the Great

Once upon a time … in Afghanistan in the early 1970s, a man from eastern Switzerland in his late twenties developed a taste for the theatre. He had turned up at a private party dressed as a waiter, his left hand elegantly tucked behind his back, whilst his right balanced a tray with three champagne glasses. “I approached the guests – or rather, let’s say I stumbled towards them.” They let out a cry when they saw the glasses almost flying through the air. But then: loud laughter, head-shaking, sighs of relief. “The glasses were glued together. I just wanted to bring a bit of action into the mix.”

A teacher at the German School witnessed the comical scene – and promptly recruited the pharmaceutical salesman for his theatre company: the Kabul Amateur Dramatic Society. A star was born. Or at least one of many stories that Karl Dörig still tells, more than 50 years later, with a mischievous grin on his face.

Karl – he’s my neighbour, the building’s grandad and the go-to guy for the latest gossip. Not only does he know the roughly 70 residents of the building by their first names, surnames and sometimes even nicknames, but he also looks after the cat on the seventh floor and mixes punch for a tavolata on the lawn in front of the building. And: at almost 84 years of age, he still loves being in the spotlight – whether that’s the spotlights in his living room, under which he talks about his time in Afghanistan using PowerPoint and a flipchart, or the city’s cabaret stages.

Since his retirement, Karl has taken to the stage as a member of the Zurich Senior Theatre in roles such as Charly’s aunt or Dr Hagedorn in *Three Men in the Snow*. Two years ago, he took on another role at the Helfereitheater. “The prompter has been doing yoga with me for years and thought I was a good actor.” At some point, she whispered in his ear that the theatre could really do with someone like him. A few weeks after the final performance, however, the future of the amateur theatre is uncertain. “Many of the performers are elderly. And we need someone who really pulls the strings.” There is a hint of regret in Karl’s voice – but it quickly gives way to a hopeful laugh. “We’ll see; the Grossmünster now has a new vicar. And he sees it as his duty to keep the theatre alive.” So perhaps the final act will drag on a little after all.

And if not, Karl has plenty of other things to do anyway: going to concerts, for example. Time and again, he finds himself drawn to the performances of the accordionist Goran Kovacevic. “I’ve definitely seen him a dozen times now; he’s absolutely brilliant! Once, the people in the audience thought he was my son.” He told the musician about the misunderstanding in an email – and they’ve been greeting each other at concerts ever since. Are Lara Stoll and Karl on first-name terms too? My neighbour is also quite taken with the slam poet. “I’ve definitely seen her five times already. I’ll go a long way for her!”

Karl, the well-travelled man, who even in his old age still walks up and down the Uetliberg, boards the train to the Origen Festival, or even flies to Berlin. For a few years, ballet soloist Raffaele Queiroz and photographer Admill Kuyler were also part of the staff at our Villa Kunterbunt. The couple now live in Berlin, but return to their old home in Switzerland time and again for engagements. Then Karl makes up the bed in his guest room, smooths out the duvet and waits until the doorbell rings and Admill walks through the door. “We’ve become good friends.” Every few weeks, the three-room flat turns into a sort of artists’ flat-share.

What Karl’s four walls always are: a small museum. Before I set off again on my journey to the upper floors, I’m given the obligatory tour of the gallery in the hallway. “A St Petersburg-style display,” the art historian in me thinks with a smile. Over a hundred-year-old family photos, portraits, snapshots of theatre performances, newspaper articles and works of art beam out at me, a smorgasbord of memories against a dark red wallpaper backdrop. There is even a certificate from the Département Politique Fédéral appointing Karl as consul – alongside it, confirmation of the appointment by the Afghan president himself.

Karl the Great, who is not only always up for a natter on the bench outside the front door, but also for the odd surprise or two. I tuck my laundry basket under my arm, press the lift button and wonder what stories might be hidden behind the other 42 doors in our building.

Anyone who thinks they might have the acting gene too: The Senior Theatre and the Volunteer Theatre are always delighted to welcome new members.