Josef and Aline Kufferath – A portrait

Josef, known as “Jupp” Kufferath, was an old-school factory owner and patriarch. He lived with his family next to the factory, which was still small at the time, so he could hear exactly what was going on there at night: “If a loom ever stopped, he would get dressed, go over, and take a look,” says his descendant Dr. Stephan Kufferath. But it wasn’t just problems that drove him out of bed: “My father used to tell me that Josef Kufferath would crawl across the roofs of the halls at night to check what was going on,” recalls Adolf Peiffer, who began his apprenticeship at GKD in 1975, where his father was already working.

The fact that Josef Kufferath would lay the foundations for a globally operating corporate group was by no means foreseen. When he was born in Mariaweiler in 1899, he already had an older brother who would one day inherit his parents’ metal weaving company. Accordingly, Josef had to find his own way.

The big goal: to become self-employed

This initially took him to the University of Cologne, although he was exmatriculated in 1922 for “not attending lectures.” He may have lost interest, as he already had a job in Düren that same year and set up his own business in 1925 with four looms left to him by his father.

“He certainly had charisma,” remembers Helmut Cremer. “When he walked into the room, he filled it. You could just tell: This is an entrepreneur who knew exactly what he was and what he wanted.” Cremer met Josef Kufferath in 1964: “My job interview comes to mind here. During our conversation, he asked me about the armed forces: ‘What rank do you have?’ And I think: ‘Oh! This is really it now. Either he’s a commission head or he’s merciful.’ I replied that I was only a private. He said: ‘Well, that’s all I was too.’ And then everything was clear.”

Not even his closest confidants knew that Josef Kufferath’s health was already in serious decline back then. Nor did he dare to relinquish the reins and look for a successor in good time. “He used to take a break to rest at lunchtime, but came back fit as a fiddle and then worked into the night,” Cremer recalls of his first boss. This made the news of his sudden death in February 1967 all the more surprising for him and the 200 or so employees.

Much more than the woman at his side

Aline Kufferath may not have been a businesswoman in the traditional sense—but she was engaged, empathetic, committed, and, in the end, a leader. When her husband Josef died unexpectedly in 1967, she assumed responsibility—not just on paper, but with foresight and drive.

Aline Kipp was born in Strasbourg in 1905. She lost her parents at an early age and grew up with relatives in Aachen. The First World War shaped her childhood: hunger was part of everyday life from 1915 onwards. She began an apprenticeship in accounting and went on to work in several companies as a commercial clerk.

A far-sighted decision

Then she met Josef. The pair married in 1928, and Aline became stepmother to little Rosemarie, Josef’s daughter from his first marriage, whose mother had died of puerperal fever after giving birth. She was initially only active in the background at her husband’s company, taking care of the household and family. But she kept an eye on things. She accompanied Josef on business trips and helped with the company’s bookkeeping during the economic crisis.

When Josef founded the company “Tela GmbH” in 1931, Aline became the proprietor—on paper, she had long been more than just a wife. In 1943, she was granted power of attorney for Gebr. Kufferath. Following the death of her husband, one thing was clear: it was now her responsibility to steer the company in the right direction. She adopted Karl Kassner, with whom she grew up like a brother and who had been the secret boss for several years, at least in the factory halls.

“An unerring understanding of people”

This ensured succession, although it did not mean that Aline would withdraw from the company. Instead, she continued to look after customers and guests, invited management staff to a champagne reception once a year, and signed outgoing payments by check almost every afternoon—until the 1980s.“She was a great woman, a fascinating personality in every respect,” says Stephan Kufferath. “She had an unerring understanding of people and never allowed anyone to bamboozle her.”

She was popular, friendly, approachable, and with her poodle Anja at her side, she liked to make the rounds through the departments. “When she had to go to the hairdresser, she would say: ‘Then let him drive me,’” recalls Adolf Peiffer. “Afterwards, I went to get her a pastry from the bakery next door—with one for me too.” Although he always enjoyed the pastries, something else was more important for Peiffer, who began his apprenticeship in 1975: “I was allowed to drive her in her old Mercedes, which was a real sensation for an 18/19-year-old at the time.” Aline Kufferath died in 1999 and was buried next to her husband in the cemetery in Mariaweiler.