A Century of Speed and Beauty

When flicking through archival pictures, or admiring one of the many archival postcards, one is often prompted to wonder how the then pocket-size village of St. Moritz came to be the international cultural centre and economical hotspot it is today. The city has thrived and built on its sound foundations, and currently expresses what could be described as an eclectic and exciting mélange of fashions, cultures, ideas and sometimes eccentricities, all set in an unequivocally impressive landscape. What prompted a small village that counted a mere 1,600 souls just 125 years ago to become a haven for the high society of the times, the jet-set of today, but also for the development and culmination of sports? A new breed of practices and sportsmen converged towards Engadin’s most famous town over the years, simultaneously building a long-lasting culture of prowess and leaving memorable moments forever associated with the cult village-turned-city. Among them, perhaps surprisingly, the automobile.

St. Moritz’s spirit has for a long time been one of novelty. Grand Hotels and progress were practically always synonymous at the time of their genesis — those buildings, unusually large in size and tantalising in décor, were the locus where all the latest trends and technical novelties converged. They had running hot water when houses had none, and proved to be epitomes of luxury already when the concept was still being defined. When Johannes Badrutt purchased what was at the time the Engadiner Kulm in 1856, he succeeded in reaching levels of modernity that were still unheard of. He purchased, for instance, the world’s first electrical lighting system at the 1878 Exposition Universelle in Paris, to prove that one of the most beautiful and highest places in the Alps could also be the most leading-edge.

The use of cars was totally forbidden across the Engadin before 1925. Graubünden was Switzerland’s last canton to lift a ban that had been in place since 1900, representing a mix of fear and lack of confidence towards new, scary, and loud machines. The first ever automobiles and race cars were rapidly taking shape and course elsewhere, each new unit produced trying to beat the last in terms of speed, weight, aerodynamics, and beauty. As soon as 1909, Filippo Tommaso Marinetti was prophesying in his Manifesto of Futurism: “We declare that the splendor of the world has been enriched by a new beauty: the beauty of speed.” The more an object is forbidden, the more it becomes a symbol of desire and possession. A passion only naturally enhanced by the fantastic backdrops the Swiss valley potentially had to offer to both drivers and spectators.

Shortly after the reinsertion of cars on the valley’s roads, St. Moritz saw its first racing events take place with two subsequent Automobilwochen in 1929 and 1930, including a Concours d’Elegance, a hill-climb race and a kilometre lancé — an acceleration race on a new stretch built by Shell from Punt Muragl to Samedan, a road that has kept the oil tycoon’s name until today. The valley also saw the annual Rallye des Alpes in 1930, with pilots such as Louis Chiron in Bugatti or Hans Stuck in Austro-Daimler leading the pack. Little by little, the valley’s road conditions were being improved, steadily going from dirt and stone countryside tracks to wider paved ones and simultaneously changing the local landscape. Engineers drew out the perfected curves of the Julierpass and its swift views over both Silvaplana and Marmorea lakes, making it the first Swiss alpine road paved in asphalt in 1940.

There is something of pure poetry when looking at a machine on wheels — its chromes shining and its warm leather patinated — take the snowy roads of the Engadin valley. Whether climbing high summits or cruising flat on a frozen lake, the charm works. The pristine, white background found in these millenary mountains seems to enhance all of the aesthetic qualities perfected over the years in automobile workshops, making the car alternate between a technical and engineered machine and a beautiful, ethereal and poetic object.

When we look at Grand Hotel guest books or early picture albums, a fascinating cast came to these mountains in already luxurious fashion. A young Luchino Visconti used to race his Italian cars up and down the Maloja Pass until his final destination in Engadin. Jean-Michel Frank, a celebrated Parisian interior designer, travelled to the same destination in his Citroën, even if it was more common to see the spectacular coachworks of Bentleys or Rolls-Royces around, used by European aristocracy or celebrities from the nascent cinema industry like Vivien Leigh or Alfred Hitchcock. It was not unusual to cross paths with French poet Jean Cocteau, legendary couturier Gabrielle Chanel, or the dancer Vaslav Nijinski in the lobbies of their Grand Hotels. It is fascinating to think about Richard Strauss, Thomas Mann or Albert Einstein being carried away along the same elongated and curvy roads we take today.

In the post-war decades, figures like Herbert von Karajan, Gianni Agnelli or Gunther Sachs became the global key ambassadors for St. Moritz as a desirable travel destination, embodying a purer form of luxury wherever they went. When setting up the Dracula Club on Via Maistra, Gunther Sachs perhaps did more for St. Moritz than any other celebrity, sporting the recognisable Dracula logo on his t-shirts and motorbikes, and exporting rather successfully the St. Moritz spirit to the Italian and French Rivieras.

Gianni Agnelli was known for daily driving his unique 1974 Fiat 130 Familiare in St. Moritz, a wood and wicker station wagon surprising by its casualness and authenticity. He later drove his own Fiat Panda 4×4 Trekking, silver with blue accents, the colour combination perhaps hinting at the pristine snow and electric blue skies common to the valley. By the car they drove and the way they lived, the Agnellis probably best represented what it meant to spend time in the valley in true sprezzatura style.

Karajan, meanwhile, was just as asserted. Austrian by origin, rather discreet and quiet by upbringing, family pictures infallibly show the whole clan impeccably dressed, their happy faces tanned by the winter sun. His cars were the reflection of a dually discreet and exuberant lifestyle, and it was probably here, when not on stage, that he was letting his inner personality speak. He had allegedly written to Enzo Ferrari that a Ferrari V12 was a perfect opera. These men of pleasure and taste were pursuing the best things in life — including their automobiles — and their precious association with moments of villeggiatura and family time. In the Engadin, they were able to live to a certain extent away from public attention. Here, their cars had to be utilitarian yet stylish, made to live and enjoy the landscape rather than to appear flashy or beat records.

Since 2019, the lake has been the scene for the I.C.E. — International Concours of Elegance — a two-day event that has proven there are no limits to a few passionate minds setting some of history’s most meaningful cars down a frozen lake. In early summer, the B.C.C.M. — British Classic Car Meeting — gathers in the Suvretta hills, more secluded and private. And Passione Engadina brings together the best of Italian craftsmanship in breathtaking landscapes. Italian style is also reflected in the enduring presence of the Fiat Panda: more and more young collectors are reaching the slopes in their now multiple-times-owned Pandas, replicating the trusted habits of Gianni Agnelli himself.

On any given weekday in season, one can spot a one-off or multimillion car riding away on the tranquil roads meandering along the lake, without the stir or surprise it would cause in the middle of a big city. But also, and perhaps more importantly, one can spot the local Cresta Run rider climbing up Via Maistra in a wicker basket-geared Fiat Panda 4×4, or a battered but charming Range Rover Series 1, proudly sporting the gleaming red and yellow S.M.T.C. badge. Some cars are so integrated in the landscape and associated with the culture of this specific place that they can be just as good to see as the latest rarities. In Engadin, things of beauty are plenty between the mountains, the lakes, their fauna and flora. And are still celebrated daily.

If other winter resorts over the Alps have tried to encapsulate a similar car culture, there is something specific to St. Moritz and the Engadin. It might be this somehow perfected mix between Swiss and Italian influences, those poetic peaks calling for adventure, simultaneously providing easily accessible mountain passes and breathtaking panoramas, as well as the intricate love-hate story the valley has had with these machines for now more than a hundred years. We look back at times when there seem to have been more opportunities for freedom and actual life to unfold, whether on skis or driving a simple car on mountain roads, even if it means succumbing to a sweet nostalgia. One can now only marvel at this succession of fantastic, dream-like names that evoke a revolute time. There is an indescribable alchemy on Via Maistra, where all things of good taste seem to assemble, following the course of time and adapting to the world while staying true to their place of genesis. A place that has always provided its felicitous guests and inhabitants with abundant air, sunlight, joy… and seemingly infinite perspectives.

Photography: Gustav Sommer ©Kulturarchiv Oberengadin, ©Fotostiftung Graubünden, ©Dokumentationsbiblothek St. Moritz