The Life of Senna

by Rubython, Tom

  In the end Senna’s parents would decide.

  Back in Sintra, Adriane was feeling a cool wind from the Senna family in São Paulo. On both Monday and Tuesday she had tried to telephone Senna’s parents. She was told by the family’s maid that both were under sedation and could not be disturbed. After a while this annoyed her, and she wondered what she had done, especially as she had shared her grief with Neyde on the Sunday. On Tuesday afternoon she got through to Viviane’s husband Flavio Lalli, who told her it was a very difficult situation at the family house and that he was having difficulty talking to his own wife, who was shattered to the point of speechlessness. Lalli told her it was impossible for anyone to have any sort of conversation with either Milton or Neyde da Silva. They had taken the news worse than anyone else. The parents remained sedated and virtually silent, almost unaware of what was going on around them.

  The Italian Air Force’s offer was turned down as the family wished his coffin to return home in a Brazilian plane. In particular Varig, the national airline was very keen to do the job as Senna had always flown the carrier to travel home. It was important to the airline that his last flight would be with it. The only flight available was Varig, flight RG723 direct from Paris to São Paulo, leaving shortly before midnight on Tuesday.

  Braga contacted the Italian Air Force and asked them to fly the mahogany coffin to the French capital to meet flight RG723. They readily agreed. The coffin left the mortuary at Maggiore hospital at around 2pm in a Mercedes hearse, with a police escort. Galvao Bueno, Celso Lemos and Betise Assumpção followed on behind, with Senna’s personal belongings, retrieved from his plane and the Williams motorhome.

  Word had got around and most of the route to the airfield was lined with Italians saying their farewells. There was an enormous sense of guilt amongst ordinary people that Senna had died in Italy.

  At the airport, the Mercedes was allowed to draw right up to the Italian DC9. An honour guard of two lines of Italian policemen stood to attention as Senna’s coffin was loaded on the plane. Brazil’s ambassador to Italy, Orland Carbonara, saw the plane off to Paris.

  The DC9 took off at around 5pm for the two-hour flight to Paris. On the way Braga, Bueno and Assumpção discussed how often they had flown home with him after a race.

  They were all concerned about the 11-hour flight home on Varig, and were determined that the coffin would fly home in the passenger compartment and not in the cargo section, as was normal.

  Two hours later, right on time, the Italian DC9 landed in Paris and Senna’s body was taken to a special part of the terminal to await the Varig flight. There were few formalities. By then Antonio Braga was on his way to Lisbon, ready to join his wife and Adriane for the flight to São Paulo for the funeral.

  Meanwhile there was some confusion in Paris. The head of Varig’s Paris office had assured Braga that they would remove seats to accommodate the coffin in the passenger cabin. He told them that there were only two people booked in first class and 12 in business class. Therefore he said the easiest thing to do was to move the 12 to first class as there were 16 seats leaving the whole business class section free for Senna’s coffin and his four companions on the flight.

  With this arranged, they awaited the flight. However, when the McDonnell-Douglas MD-11 arrived, the captain, a pilot called Gomes Pinto, told them the coffin would have to travel in the cargo hold because of IATA regulations. There was an argument and Bueno phoned back to the family in Brazil, who contacted Varig’s head office. Varig faxed the captain and literally ordered him to let the coffin travel in the passenger section. Bueno recalls: “The captain tried everything to stop us. First he told us it could not be done because of IATA rules. Then he demanded an okay from the family.”

  There was friction between Pinto and Bueno but he finally relented and six seats had to be removed to accommodate the coffin and it was covered by the Brazilian flag. By then, Josef Leberer had also joined them, flying in from his home in Austria.

  Meanwhile Braga had arrived in Lisbon and immediately gathered up Luiza and Adriane for the flight back to Brazil. There were no direct flights: they boarded a plane from Lisbon to Rio de Janeiro, which would continue on to São Paulo at around midnight on Tuesday 2nd May and would arrive at about the same time as the coffin. Adriane sat motionless with Antonio and Luiza Braga. The stewards were well aware of who they were and provided them with every comfort.

  Senna’s flight home was almost silent, and broken only by prayer. The window curtains were closed and Leberer remembers: “It was something that I will never forget. We were there for 11 hours with the coffin, with the Brazilian flag and a rose on it, but you know that the soul is gone.” The co-pilot joined them all for some prayers around the coffin.

  When the plane reached Brazilian airspace 10 hours later, a detachment of Brazilian Air Force fighter planes formed an escort. Dawn was breaking as the MD11 descended into São Paulo and as the pilot prepared to land, the fighters departed for their bases. The landing in half light, as the sun came up, was surreal. It was an unforgettable experience and something Senna had done many times in life as he came home, exhausted after yet another race.

  Eleven hours after leaving Paris, Captain Gomes Pinto touched the plane down at 6:15am at Guaralhos airport. The first class and economy passengers disembarked immediately. The plane was greeted by São Paulo’s mayor, Paulo Salim Maluf, and state governor Luiz Antonio Fleury.

  At the same time, the Bragas and Adriane had reached Rio De Janeiro for a 20-minute stopover. The rest of the passengers disembarked, but the three of them were allowed to stay on board. Less than a week before, Adriane had flown to Portugal full of hope for the future. Now she returned to great uncertainty. She was also unsure of the family’s reaction. She had not spoken to anyone since Senna’s death other than Flavio Lalli, Viviane’s husband, who had treated her coolly.

  Whilst the plane was being cleaned and refuelled in Rio, she changed into a black suit so she could go straight to the building where the coffin was to be kept until Senna was buried the following day. The plane landed in São Paulo just 20 minutes after the Varig flight carrying Senna.

  Waiting were a million citizens, who had got up early to line the six-lane motorway through the suburbs from the airport to welcome their hero home for the last time. Most were under 25.

  Brazil’s President Franco had already declared three days of national mourning, including a day off for schoolchildren. The Brazilian flag was flown at half-mast on all government buildings across the country.

  It took 30 minutes more to unload Senna’s coffin. An electric lift carried it down to soldiers from the Polícia da Aeronáutica, who carried Senna’s body to the fire engine, where it was draped in the Brazilian flag. The fire engine would carry the coffin into the city centre to lie in state.

  At 6:45am the fire engine moved off, preceded by 17 police motorbikes. The policemen were wearing white leather suits and led a motorcade on the 20-mile journey into the city. On the rear of the fire engine, four cadets from the Military Police academy sat on each side of the coffin, facing fore and aft, mounting guard; five more were on the ledge at the rear of the engine. In addition, 2,500 policemen lined the route.

  The policemen were to keep the crowds back, but they couldn’t stop the cars. The roads were kept open as swarms of vehicles crowded the procession, getting as close as possible to the moving coffin, even on the wrong side of the carriageway, in their desperation to see the last glimpse of the coffin holding Senna’s mortal remains. Many cars had been adorned with swathes of black material on the aerials, and pictures of Senna taped to the windows. It would take the fire-engine three hours to reach its destination, as police and television helicopters clattered overhead.

  As it neared the end, the procession slowed and an honour guard of 33 mounted cavalry, carrying lances, joined the procession. The horses escorted the fire-engine as it crawled between São Paulo’s streets. By now there were huge crowds welcoming their hero home. On b
oth sides of the road they were at least 20 deep.

  The fire engine was followed by thousands on foot, and on bicycles and motorcycles. Office workers from tower blocks showered the coffin with ticker tape, confetti and flowers. Banners and graffiti covered all available space on tunnels and bridges: ‘Obrigado Senna’ (thank you Senna), ‘Senna não morreeu, porque os deuses não morrem’ (Senna isn’t dead, because gods don’t die). And ‘Obrigado, Senna por fazer nossos domingos felizes’ (thank you for making our Sundays so happy). They all shouted “Ole, ole, ole, Senna, Senna, Senna.” All of the Brazilian TV channels were broadcasting the event continuously.

  Tension was also high. Brazilian newspapers were reporting that the real time of Senna’s death was 2:17pm and that he died at the trackside. They were saying that he was brought artificially back to life and that the race should never have been re-started. Much of it was being stoked up by Leonardo da Silva, who wasn’t thinking straight, blinded by the tragedy that had befallen his family.

  The coffin finally reached the state legislative assembly, where it would lie in state. The 1950s building was set in Ibirapuera Park, south of central São Paulo.

  Already 20,000 people were waiting in a queue to file past the coffin and pay their respects. Before that could start, the family held a 20-minute service conducted by a pastor Sabatini Lali. An old helmet of Senna’s was placed on top of the coffin.

  After the ceremony, two soldiers with pikes and four with rifles, with their weapons reversed by tradition for a fallen hero, took up guard.

  The people of São Paulo began to file past one side of the catafalque, and the other side was roped off for VIPs. The VIPs, could come and go as they pleased via a rear door. Beyond the special roped-off area was a private room. Entry to both areas was by a special badge, with either a plain ‘F’ on it for family or ‘A’ for friends. The ‘F’ and ‘A’ badges were given to around 500 people who would also attend the funeral.

  A special area and access was given to the media. A raised platform, with some chairs, had been constructed. It was crammed with TV crews and photographers, who used their regular FIA accreditation to gain entry.

  Adriane arrived and was bitterly disappointed when she discovered the coffin was closed. She said: “I couldn’t understand, I couldn’t believe, I couldn’t accept it. I thought the coffin would have a glass lid or something that would allow me to see him for the last time. But it was completely sealed. I felt terrible disappointment, a shiver down my spine.”

  Adriane quickly became the centre of attention, as she flitted in and out. She was protected from the crowds by municipal minders. She needed them, as 8,000 people were passing through the room every hour; that would continue for 24 hours.

  Although relations were strained, Adriane greeted Senna’s family cordially. But otherwise she kept her distance. They all had their private grief to contain. Of the family, Neyde and Viviane, his mother and sister, were in the worst shape. Leonardo simply paced the room and Milton kept his distance, stoically observing the scene, as was his way.

  Senna’s Brazilian personal trainer, Nuno Cobra, was distraught and his tears simply overflowed in the most public display of grief in the private area. Afterwards his face was distorted temporarily from crying and his eyes had swelled up. He was being comforted by Josef Leberer. Cobra could simply not believe that Senna would not be returning to Brazil as normal in November to continue his intensive training sessions. Senna was Cobra’s whole life, and that life was gone.

  In the special room people chatted quietly, including world champions Emerson Fittipaldi, Alain Prost and Jackie Stewart. Derek Warwick turned up. He was not expected but felt he had to come. There was a poignant moment when Neyde da Silva approached him. She told him through an interpreter: “You know Derek, Ayrton always had a special place in his heart for you.”

  When the current Brazilian drivers Rubens Barrichello and Christian Fittipaldi turned up, the crowd cheered.

  Outside a huge display of floral tributes was starting to build up. There were wreaths from almost every racing organisation and from famous individuals. Some were exotic affairs. The most impressive were two huge white crosses from TAG Group and the McLaren team. The wreaths formed an avenue of flowers, together with random bunches from ordinary fans which started to form a carpet of flowers.

  That morning in another room, Senna’s brother Leonardo held a press conference on behalf of his family. He said the family was furious that the race had been restarted when it was clear Senna had died when his car impacted the wall. He said: “The motorsport authorities are only interested in money.”

  He condemned the governing body FIA. He said it knew the dangers the drivers were facing at Imola’s Tamburello corner and that a narrow strip of grass and 20 metres of tarmac was insufficient to separate the track from solid concrete wall. He said: “If they’d taken the correct precautions, my brother would be alive today.” There was some merit in what he said, although it conveniently forget his brother had inspected the facilities many times and agreed that all that could be done at Tamburello had been done.

  Leonardo had whipped up a frenzy of anti-FIA, anti-Ecclestone and anti-Mosley fervour. He was almost irrational in his hatred. Leonardo blamed the authorities outright for his brother’s death, and said that Ecclestone or Mosley would not be welcome at the funeral. Mosley decided not to come but Ecclestone wished to say goodbye to his friend.

  All through that evening, night and morning, mourners filed past the coffin. Ron Dennis, surrounded by bodyguards in dark suits, arrived and sat for 40 silent minutes reflecting on his six years with Senna at McLaren and three world championships.

  Senna’s family came in and out. Adriane kept vigil all night and did not sleep. She remembers: “I walked around and felt I was being looked at, watched. I didn’t care. I felt like jumping into the coffin and screaming.” Friends urged her to rest overnight in preparation for the funeral, but she refused. She did, however, take a shower at the Bragas’ nearby hotel.

  At dawn on Thursday, Frank Williams arrived to pay his respects and spoke to Adriane what words he could.

  At 10 o’clock the next morning a 21-gun salute, fired by the 2nd Artillery Brigade, rang out over Ibirapuera Park. It marked the end of the public viewing; over 200,000 people had filed past to pay their respects.

  It was time for the coffin to leave. Rose petals were strewn over it, and military cadets took it from the catafalque to a waiting fire engine for the final 10-mile journey to Senna’s resting place, the Morumbi cemetery.

  Birgit Sauer, the wife of the head of Volkswagen Brazil, arrived to accompany Adriane to the funeral. They had holidayed together in the past and struck up a friendship. They were now united in grief.

  Adriane and Birgit got into a minibus, which followed the fire engine carrying the coffin. Gerhard Berger, Christian Fittipaldi and Alain Prost, amongst others, also got in. The bus’s curtains were drawn to protect passengers’ privacy.

  The streets were lined with ordinary Brazilians, mostly in tears and screaming. In the four days since his death, no one had come to terms with it. The day of the funeral seemed to spark emotions even more extreme. A young boy ran with the bus all the way from the building to the cemetery.

  Two hundred thousand people lined the route, as the rest of Brazil watched it live on television. When the fire engine passed the crowd, clapping broke out all along the route.

  Seven planes of the Brazilian Air Force aerobatic display team, in diamond formation, laid smoke trails as the cortege crawled up the hill to Morumbi, high above the city. The last half mile was a steeply winding road.

  The Cemitério de Morumbi is a huge round park, with discreet headstones laid into the grass, horizontal and well spaced. Behind the high walls, overlooked by private apartment blocks, waited VIP guests and hundreds of people from the world of motor racing. Many of the racing people had all flown in and assembled that morning at the Intercontinental Hotel, where coaches waited to take t
hem to Morumbi. Others helicoptered in. The helicopters landed behind a small clump of trees. Armed Brazilian soldiers in grey combat uniforms and black baseball caps were responsible for their security.

  A rope-lined pathway of light green carpet led to the open grave, where tarpaulins, covered by green plastic grass, protected the edges of the freshly dug hole. When Senna’s coffin reached the cemetery it was unloaded and the official mourners followed behind as it was pushed up the hill on a green metal trolley to the grave side. Drivers pushing the trolley and escorting it were Gerhard Berger, Alain Prost and Michele Alboreto, Jackie Stewart, Damon Hill, Emerson, Wilson and Christian Fittipaldi, Rubens Barrichello, Mauricio Gugelmin, Maurizio Sandro Sala, Roberto Moreno and Raul Boesel, Pedro Lamy, Derek Warwick, Johnny Herbert, Thierry Boutsen and Hans Stuck Jr. Six television helicopters flew overhead broadcasting live pictures across Brazil.

  As the trolley pulled to a halt, the 2nd Guards Battalion of the South-Eastern Military Command stood at the ready and three volleys of salute from the guards’ automatic weapons resounded. In between each volley, the clicking camera shutters echoed round, and the empty brass shells fell to the ground.

  At the graveside a white canopy helped protect family and friends from the sun. In front some temporary chairs had been arranged. At the front was the family: Milton and Neyde da Silva, Leonardo da Silva, Viviane Lalli and her husband Flavio and their three children Bruno, Bianca and Paula. In the second row, Adriane Galisteu and Xuxa Meneghel. When Adriane took her place in the second row, Xuxa immediately got up and moved to another seat; perhaps insensitively, the seating plan had the two women sitting together. Xuxa was the family’s official widow, and arrived and left with them. It reflected the coolness they all felt towards Adriane, which was only thawed a little by Neyde da Silva.