44. Jigg goes to Germany

While Evelyn and Jack were pre-occupied with their financial problems and their desire to return to the United States where Evelyn was sure she would be reunited with Jigg and his family, Jigg was concentrating on finding new employment after his mother had written to his employers at CBS, a letter which eventually resulted in Jigg being dismissed from his post.

However, Jigg had built a solid reputation in radio news and in October 1951 he secured a post with Radio Free Europe, an anti-Communist radio network based in Munich and supported by the National Committee for a Free Europe, a CIA front organisation. His role was to create and develop the newsroom which would broadcast to countries behind the Iron Curtain.

The family spent the first weeks of their stay in Germany at the Hotel Regina Palast, in the very centre of Munich, then severely bomb-damaged. In spite of the war, the hotel retained much of its former luxury, and the family were housed there until accommodation could be found for them in a modest house in the suburb of Grünwald some 10 miles to the south of Munich.

Back in England, Evelyn had been busy compiling her “Précis of events leading to libel” which she intended should be widely distributed in support of the Evelyn Scott Fund. Although Margaret DeSilver (wisely) felt this would not help her cause, Evelyn persisted in compiling this document which she saw as the beginning of an autobiography yet to come, and asked Margaret to send a copy to Jigg in Red Hook.

[Many of the following letters from Evelyn are carbon copies, from which the signatures are often missing.]

* * * * *

To Evelyn Scott

130 West 12th St, New York City
December 12, 1951

Dear Evelyn

The précis which I sent by registered mail by Jig in Red Hook, NY, at your request, was returned to me with a forwarding address “Hotel Regina-Palast, Maximilian Platz, Munich, German, and a typewritten sticker from the PO saying “return to Postmaster—domestic registered mail cannot be forwarded to a foreign country”.  So I have re-registered and mailed it to the address given.  OK?

Love, M

* * * * *

To Creighton Scott

26 Belsize Crescent
January 1, 1952

Creighton Scott
Herzog Siegmund Str 3
Grünwald bei Munchen
Bavaria, Germany

Darling Jigeroo

I have already invited you here thinking Pavla must be still in Red Hook, in a letter sent to the Hotel Regina-Palast, Maximilian Platz, Munich, and I hope you will have received when you do this both the first letter and the outline of a part of an autobiography I propose writing about my author-experiences, as this outline went to the Regina-Palast when returned to Margaret De Silver by the Red Hook Postmaster with your forwarding address stamped on the parcel.  It is for reading by you and Pavla and by your Dad whose opinion on some portions we should have.

Jack and myself are delighted by the very thought of the nearness of all of you, this revealed by Pavla yesterday in her letter which was to have reached us for Christmas but took a week.  However New Year’s Eve was almost as appropriate, and the day would have been one for celebration for us whatever it was.  We hope you had reason to celebrate.

I am most anxious to see you first without waiting on other things as soon as it is convenient to you because we have been so cut off from communication.  But that is just because I am exhausted by the suspense which has resulted from knowing so little of you yourself specifically.  We are both also actually very eager to see Pavla and the four children, and were we able to provide the beds and fares we would urge having you all here now at once.  However, as soon as the expense can be met you must come please, and Pavla and Denise and the boys in relays—Julia we know going with Pavla at this age as she is too young to be left.

We have enough beds for three with some squeezing, and two we could easily have if camping out arrangements are tolerable to you.  And though we HOPE not to have to wait long in any case do let’s all try to so arrange it that we can all meet here before we all go home to the States, which, though it may still require time, we will all do.

It is a very sweet privilege to be allowed to feel myself really Grandmother again and Jack has touched me very much by saying spontaneously and with genuineness, on looking at the picture Pavla sent, “Well I am glad to have a family of my own again”—his emotional generosity is precisely as I tell you.  He is ready to reciprocate love and he is especially interested in meeting Denise as he has always been fond of little girls as I am of little boys—we will of course love both, regardless of sex, once there is a rapprochement that proves the responses to our interest are natural and are not forced.  Tell Denise I fell in love with her ten years ago—soon eleven and I will never fall out  I fell in love with Fredrick in 1943 I fell in love with Fredrick in 1943—it will be Mathew and Julia too soon I Know

* * * * *

To Paula Scott

January 1, 1952

Pavla Hale Pearson Scott—Mrs Creighton Scott

The picture of the family is already kissed every night.  It is yourselves and whenever we look at it love burgeons and we are very lucky in having you all “ours” too.  You are a lovely daughter-in-law.

You are the best of daughter-in-laws and I like your responsiveness and hope for the children’s and know Jig is with us as well as his Dad.  We think the same things and Cyril agrees as does his wife no doubt.  Divorces are a small matter in the arts.

Darling Pavla

I added the postscript to the letter to Mathew which I had already written—December 30th—your own Christmas letter arrived and this is to expand our reply and as the further sign of our delight in your nearness and our hope soon to see Jig and yourself and all four here with us, the sooner the better, and as many as we can provide beds for—three at once is the present limit.  Julia of course goes with you as she is too small to be left but perhaps there could be two visits with Denise and the boys divided between the two adults.

We would be somewhat crowded and that we wish were not the case but just to see you at all would be such refreshment to us we hope it will be to you and Jig.  I am sending Jig the letter explaining this to him because I am eager to break whatever jinx has been between my son and myself in respect to correspondence.  Your letters darling Pavla have just kept me from tearing my hair with anxiety but it is not right that I should have to depend on you for any news whatever and to have Jig himself write to us will be the restoration of common sense in our human stand.

Jack says you are his own family, too, far more than any of his uncles and cousins here—you and Jig and the children—and I wish Cyril would come over and we could have here the re-union we have been thinking of and hoping to have ever since distance intervened between us.  Do tell Jig’s Dad of this and please see that the outline of the mss of the future autobiography’s section regarding the war, which was mailed to Jig at Red Hook and returned for forwarding to the Hotel Regina-Palast Maximilian Platz Munich and forwarded there by Margaret De Silver is collected by Jig or someone who will give it to you both for your reading and to be sent to Cyril himself.

I have practical views as the explicit sign of idealism just as you and Jig and Jack have, and I am eager to see the boys built up in physical stamina without sacrifice of the sensibility evident in their faces even in the passport picture which is not just to any of you as a portrait.  You are recognizable and so is Freddy and I can just see the traces of the Denise of three-years-old but what no picture can disguise is that you all need an easier life with an end of strains, with good food and with those normal interest congenial to yourselves as individuals and very specific individuals none of you commonplace of “average”.

Jack will cook for you when you come.  He continues the chef de lux of the household.  I recommend to you the desert of semolina he is now preparing for supper.  It is very cheap and takes a comparatively small amount of sugar and he puts powdered coconut in it as he takes it from the stove and flavours it also when possible with brown-sugar.  For the author of so many fine books he has unsuspected accomplishments.  Tell Cyril Jack is almost as versatile in some ways as he is himself.

You should be in France I think because of the visual arts but Germany has a few fine painters and I hope Jig sometimes can paint again even there—and here’s to all our new books.  We must gradually become again the sort of creative people we are.  The things we have been compelled to do since the war are just a travesty of our real selves.  We will all go home to the States before too much time but some good will come of your being there.

* * * * *

To Creighton and Paula Scott

January 13 1952

Darling Jig and Pavla:

Please send some more news of yourselves and, also, tell us whether you have received and read the section of outline of possible autobiography which was forwarded to the Hotel Regina Palast, Maximilian Platz, Munich.

This is not one of my long letters—I will write more extensively when I have one of Jig’s and Pavla’s both—but this is to remind you we love you and we are eager for news and sight of you more than ever now you are almost near.

With our love
Mother for step-grandfather Jack too

I am so disgusted with “respectable” “pious” “religious” bloody “commerce” in people’s letters I could cheerfully see every purveyor of “popular” and “average” “tastes” shot—I hope you have something less inane than some letters from those of our friends who fall into the clutches of damnable putrid fallacious trade “psychology”—arrant rats propound it.  This is the result of a spatter of mail—since this was written—mail about nothing normal to the writer of these hocus-pocus suggested letters.

I hope for yours in different vein.

* * * * *

To Creighton and Paula Scott

February 11 1952


I refuse to be hurt, though there is not yet any acknowledgment yet received by me of the outline of the portion of the future autobiographical volume’s data—sent to Jig forwarded by Margaret De Silver to the Hotel Regina Palast, Maximilian Platz, Munich, and intended to be sent on to Jig’s Dad in the States for his opinion on how to combat imposed tinkerings with books with fine material, such as his Life Is Too Short must originally have been before some half-wit tried to re-write it for low-level consumption.

I have twice written to you that the Regina Palast has the outline—the parcel containing it—so I hope you have had those letters and, in any case, will receive this.  It is a very detailed compilation of personal data and there was very good sense in the effort to get across to you both and to Cyril himself my view of a distressing factor both in our personal “economic” plight and in a general total ruthlessness in handling literature as literature which deserves punishment legally if it cannot otherwise be stopped.

Well we hope the precis or outline has arrived and is read and has been sent on to Cyril himself and that we will both soon have his home address again.

We treasure the enlargement of the Passport photo of Pavla Denise Fredrick and Mathew and I now have one of the snapshots of Jig out with it so we can dote on all those we love most.  We do hope there are some compensations for being in Munich, but we insist it will be best when all of you are at home with us for we continue determined to go home and to do everything we can there toward the good job for Jig he should have as the son of Americans, the husband of an American, the father of four Americans and the grandson and great-grandson of Americans and—MOST IMPORTANT—AN AMERICAN HIMSELF ALL HIS LIFE.

Couldn’t Jig write us just a few lines please?  We would feel so much better if he wrote them himself.  He can’t be ill and we hope as well as very living he is very well indeed and you all are, but the very sight of his handwriting would be cheering.

I think it is a criminal racket that has produced such conditions, in which we are not allowed so much as a line from MY SON AND CRYIL KAY SCOTT’S.  I am tired of brutes and threats such as imposed silences imply, and those who impose them MUST BE PUNISHED.  It is not human.  Do we have to go home to the States to learn what is happening in Munich?

We are as militantly opposed to totalitarians as if we were the heads of the allied armies—or considerably more so, I may say ironically in view of the results of the war in landing us among the labour tyrants.  But we do not think any military or civil bureaucracy has any right to interfere at any state in civil human relations and civil careers and the communications essential to carrying these on.  And we protest the mail status quo as dense, stupid, brutal, wrong.  And if there is censoring between here and Munich—officially none has been allowed as far as I know—then I hope these guy-dan, god damn brutes will get a dirty, muddy eyeful, because I say as an American mother they should be shot.

How’s that for international diplomacy?  I will say precisely everything I think just until I die, and I really think my family will be better off eventually because I have.

NB Important We would love hearing of explicit happenings of your lives during these few months since you arrived there, but Pavla has the household, and Jig his job so notes help and are acceptable—more than.  And still taking the photograph to stand for the affection ours in common I would like to tell you of happenings here, if these as yet included anything whatever except stress and strain about how to keep just barely afloat, as we still await action on books for any money whatever.

We had an attack of fungus here that obliged us to take up three carpets in part to save them from rot.  There was no moisture on the good floor boards, so figure that out¬!

We have been using driers however and I find some make good furniture stains, which brings me back to Pavla who stained and oiled some furniture in Tappan like a professional cabinet-maker.

Do you have ready-cooked food in Munich?  There are a few  places here that sell it, frozen like birds’-eye vegetables such as we had in Canada, and not half-bad.  Some really rather good, and some dear and some not.  It might make a change sometimes should you discover any place where you can buy these things there and Jig bring home dinner in his pocket ready-cooked.

I still have no teeth as the money saved for them went to stave off a tax-summons, but although I refused to go to the Guild Hall and look up data for my French historical novel with such a denuded mouth I am entirely reconciled to being seen toothless by my family, so whenever any visit to London is possible we will be glad no matter how toothless.

Jiggie darling Mother to you please
Jack’s love to all

* * * * *

To Creighton and Paula Scott

March 2 1952

Darling Jig and Pavla:

Have you yet received any notification respecting the parcel containing the segment of an outline of the future autobiographical volume I propose to add eventually to my published volumes?   This was nearly three months ago—two and a half approximately may be more exact, as I do not know precisely the date on which she mailed it—and as there has been ample time for its receipt by you and its arrival has not been acknowledged in any letter as yet received by me, I have written to the Manager of the hotel requesting him as a very great favour to do me the kindness to ascertain if he can whether or not it is yet at the hotel yet or has already been delivered to you at your Herzog Siegmund address.  There hasn’t really been time to have his reply—or that of some member of the hotel staff—but I send this on to you, too, hoping you will check up on the parcel in any case and if you have it, whether or not you have already written saying so, write and tell me again.

Should the hotel Manager or any of his staff assist to locate the parcel of mss please offer him my thanks as Jig’s American mother—we will all be thankful to have no further trouble of this sort, in London and in the States I am sure.

How is everything with you both now?  We are eager for news specific enough to bring you nearer.  Don’t forget the invitation Jack extends again with me to allow us to “put you up” as well as we can with limited space and a blanket situation to solve.  In warmer weather the paucity of blankets will matter less and if there is any way to wangle expenses—also we wish we could pay them for you but our circumstances have yet to improve—please please know we love you and would like it next best to being at home in the States with you both and having everybody normally painting and writing again and publishing and exhibiting, including Cyril and his present wife.

We are so glad the school the children attend is good, but it still seems too far away, regarded selfishly.  Tell us more of it and as we are thankful it is an American school, what sort of Americans are there.  There is one little German boy at the school  where Jack teaches and Jack says he seems to him very nice and sensitive and a sympathetic child.

What is the garden there developing into?  Ours is useless until we can completely exclude the public and throw every window in the basement open without concern for intrusion or theft.  I think if we could build a wall completely enclosing the rear garden and cutting it off from the front so it is reserved for this flat, we could probably rent the flat to some advantage as an aid to going to the States refurbishing and demolition of inside shelter included, of course.

Please tell us more please please.

Jig’s affectionate and loving mother and Pavla’s affectionate friend for Jack and myself both—he sends love to all six

* * * * *

To Creighton and Paula Scott

March 12 1952


Please please please help me to expose the truth as to the difficulties we continue to have with mail as between myself and yourselves and every one of our American relatives including Jig’s Dad.

I have written to you both three times about this and the outline or “precis” of a segment of data compiled for the third of my autobiographical volumes, which has yet to be written but which I wish to have read as data yet in which we all figure, both by you and Cyril and his wife.  This compilation an outline isn’t a book but it is valuable as author record for my family and myself, and a record merely, not a book for publication as data, is the parcel sent to Margaret De Silver for conveyance to Jig at Pitcher Lane, Red Hook, Duchess County, NY, where you both were in the summer and early fall.   And this is the gist of the request I made of the hotel over two weeks ago; explaining when I did so that this parcel was actually sent by Jack for me from London in early November and was forwarded to Munich either the end of November or the first of December.  I think it is like “psychological warfare” to impose on us all the sort of anxiety this represents, which, in any one instance, would be “minor”, but as an accumulation of years and in connection with important matters like writing books and knowing how one’s nearest and dearest really are and whether or not they do receive their mail, it is serious as augmenting strains that are already enough.

I have complained so continually about the situation at home in this respect that there may have been some action taken there to improve it, as I am now having many more letters actually acknowledged which I receive.  But this still does not include my letters to my family and relatives.  It would seem to me that with the numbers of Americans there are in Germany, this stupidity about mail should not be allowed and that there should be steps taken there to make an end of conditions anything but conducive to peace in the world.

Pavla and Jig my dears you should both acknowledged letters which are to both—even if it is just in the matter of signatures.  And it would probably be helpful not to sign initials as Pavla sometimes does as we would like to hit any censors who meddleif they meddle, we are just guessing—hit them in the eyes as meddlars by making as public as we can your and my American identity, so that mail when lost can always be traced.

We all despise commercial “art”, just as we despise “token” publication and the ratty commercialism that imposed it on us.  To hell with commercial “levellers”, “tokens”, etc.  Communication has been so interfered with it has created an entirely false impression—that and that dirty commercial tinkering with Cyril’s autobiography:  something for which someone deserves shooting.

Our love Jack’s and mine to yourselves and the four children—please do write and tell me just where we are in respect to this utterly poppycock situation about mail and that parcel the handkerchief and the children’s book sent Mathew.  I have a book for Freddy and don’t yet dare send it.  Tell me when—love—Mother to Jig to Pavla Evelyn

I always think of Margue when I sign Mother to you—Jack’s love sent with this to both.

* * * * *

Regina Palast hotel
Regina Palast Hotel [www.zveb.com]

To Evelyn Scott

 Regina-Palast-Hotel München 2
Maximiliansplatz 5
Munich, March 16 1952

Dear Madame,

In reply to your letter of 25th February I beg to inform you that the two parcels in question has received your son.  I got the information by your daughter in law.

Thrusting that you will receive the parcel safely, we beg to remain

faithfully yours
Regina-Palast Hotel

* * * * *

To Regina Palast Hotel

March 31, 1952

Dear Sir:

Your reply to my inquiry of February 25th, 1952, arrived here on March 23rd, and I am greatly obliged to you for attempting to ascertain for me whether or not the parcel containing data to be used by me in a book I propose to write, had been forwarded by the hotel to my son Mr Creighton Scott.

I gather you have communicated with my daughter-in-law, Mrs Creighton Scott at the family’s present address of this winter, Herzog Siegmund Str, 3, and as you quote her as saying two parcels have been received there, I trust one is the manuscript of data I compiled for my own reference.

As I have no German whatever at my command, I hope my attempt to be explicit in English is comprehended, because actually, in the final line of your note of March 16th, you say you hope I “will receive the parcel safely”.  It was not intended that the parcel I sent to my son and daughter-in-law in the States, and which was forwarded from there, on postal instructions, to Mr Creighton Scott at the Hotel Regina Palast—the temporary address he gave when he sailed from home—should be returned to me!  On the contrary, I sent it to my son to forward as soon as he and my daughter-in-law had read it, to Mr Creighton Scott’s father, Mr Cyril Kay Scott, the American painter and author who was my first husband and from whom I am divorced.

I tell you this because the acknowledgment of this manuscript by my son himself as well as his daughter-in-law should, of course, be made to me; the reason I wish to have them and my first husband see the data being that I will write to them in this book, which will be my third volume of autobiography.  And I will again appreciate the preservation of this record, if it is possible, until I am completely certain that the parcels sent from London directly to Munich since Christmas and containing trivial and unsolicited gifts for my grandchildren have not been confused with the parcel already twice forwarded after I sent it to the States last autumn before I had been informed when my son had gone to Germany.

I do indeed thank you for your kindness in attempting to assist me to locate the parcels.  But the parcel I as an author value most is naturally the book synopsis, and it is in connection with this that I shall be indebted to you whenever I have reassurance in full.

Whenever I do I will send you a line to that effect, and meanwhile I continue greatly obliged,

Faithfully yours,

* * * * *

In the spring of 1952 the family moved from their small house in Grünwald to a much larger property in Gräfelfing, a suburb of Munich.  They were now living in a substantial house with a large garden which backed on to extensive woodland.  The house had been, Jigg was led to understand, commandeered by the Americans from a local high-ranking Nazi.  Whether this was true or not, it was spacious and comfortable in the traditional Bavarian style, complete with bierstubl and weinkeller.

* * * * *

To Creighton and Paula Scott

April 14,1952

Otilostrasse 22
Grafelfing-bei-Muchen, Bavaria, Germany

Darling Jig and Pavla:

When are we again to experience that pleasure of surprise ours when we had Pavla’s Christmas note signed for both and telling us that you were comparatively near?

We have not had a word since.  And as I wrote to the Regina Palast respecting the segment of an outline for an autobiographical volume by me in which you both and Cyril are to be included and the hotel assures me Pavla—or “my daughter-in-law”—assured them it was received, I am distressed again that I have not yet obtained your personal affirmation of this.

I don’t think I should have had to ask the hotel, if this is the case, and to find that there are mail problems there  as there have been every so often when mailing letters and parcels to the States, is upsetting.  should know you have received and sent it to him without a doubt.

I don’t like to write of nothing but mail problems, parcels etc, and I know you don’t either, but just sensibly prompt replies to specific issues would relieve us both of burdens.  Have you received any of my detailed letters about this?  I have sent several, some addressed to Pavla some to Creighton some to both and some to the children.    Please please PLEASE do anything you can at your end to conclude this interminable business about mail and whether it is actually received or not by the personal addressees.

There has never been any comment on our hope that you will visit us and that your visit will be the first chapter in the journey home.  We are still fighting for your art as well as ours whenever we can.  It is utterly rotten wrong that both of you should have been removed as you were from your real milieu in art, and wrong we think as well that you should have been moving to Europe just as we were given our first positive hope of the financing of our return to the States to write near you there, and to clear up every ambiguity distance has imposed during these years since the war.

We should actually all be peacefully in one country, the country normally preferable the USA—but as artists and as we originally were except that we are older, have learned more, and have something of a common feeling of response and responsibility in respect to Denise, Fredrick, Mathew and Julia.

We implore and don t know whom to implore, we so need details of yourselves and your lives in Munich as well as at home.  Whatever has been at the bottom of a lack of free communication is criminal.  We would so like to be precise as to this in order to combat it.

Are you both and the children well?  What sort of job is Jig doing?  Is it something Army or hushy, or something he can speak of freely? We are all fed to the gills with war and everything to do with it.  And I think it high time that, among the things one has to re-learn, we learned again to be just ourselves, without any directing or manipulating, be it called “patriotic” or not.

The trees in front are just ready to bloom.  We have hoped every year you would all see them.  There have been nine daffodils out, and a few bluebells, but the garden is still a wilderness of weeds and needs a wall to shut it in so the flat can be private.  It is warm here at present.  How is it there?  Do you see mountains afar?  We haven’t yet any map of Germany.  Are you both writing at least a little, and is Jig—fine artist that he actually is—painting some?  We so hope so.  Did the school continue satisfactory?  When are we all to go home to live near and love each other and our various arts.

Creighton Scott with Mother and Jack USA—temporary address on envelope otilostrasse 22 Graefelfing bei Munchen  This make sending Jig to Germany a catastrophe!  Rat [illeg] don’t.

* * * * *

To Evelyn Scott and Jack Metcalfe 

19 April 1952

Dear Evelyn and Jack—

I’m scribbling my twice yearly note and sending along these snaps of the kids.  We’re all pretty well, but have no hope whatever of making any visits.  It’s hard for us to get away on a Sunday afternoon, although last Sunday we managed to take the whole day off for a drive to Innsbruck—very nice.  I am tired of this duty scribble—What the hell is Innsbruck to us?  A char employed where I boarded in 1901.

The baby [Julia] stands up and has 2 teeth, now

Paula—Pavla Scott I despise her senseless use of Paula

PS  Your MSS arrived, but I can’t sent it on to Cyril as I haven’t the remotest idea where he is now.  Haven’t heard from him for 6 months when he was about to move.

1952-November This letter of my daughter-in-law is all any news of her with my son and grandchildren—four since April  The art of EVELYN SCOTT with Cyril Kay Scott is with Scott the art with JOHN METCALFE WITH CREIGHTON Scott with Pavla This arrived on a brutal day an intolerable criminal day May 24th

* * * * *

To Creighton and Paula Scott

April 20 1952

Do you give Gladys address now as your address at home or Jigs Dad’s.  I gave Jigs of Ridge Street Rutherford at the US Consulate here and I suppose I will have to go back to Gladys again for us


Where are the answers to my letters?  Where is your personal acknowledgment of the outline of the autobiography I sent for you to read and send on to Cyril?  Do you reply and are the letters stopped somewhere, or what?  I can’t help it.  So would you were you in my place.

The plum tree in the front garden is beautiful just now.  We so hoped some of you could manage a visit in time to see it.  The spring bloom here is a very fine sight.  We have nothing comparable in any city, though of course we do in the country.  This tree is flawless, every cluster of white perfect, and the tree—there are two or three in front—has echoes up the street—in fact up both the streets at the crossing the house faces.  They are airy gardens with that unreality of American autumns—so extravagantly lovely one is wordless, as one can’t relate them to anything in the experience of every day.

Also ce soir we had a treat in a honey-dew melon for supper which we bought as a celebration as we have had no green stuff for months—just tinned things.  And as this may be the truth about you, too, I wished as we ate it that you all had some.  Really first rate garden produce, I don’t know from where, as the season is so early.  It was not expensive either, about sixty cents American—that is not for a treat and for April.  Well, here’s hoping—

The teeth will soon have their first try-out.  I have been to the dentist’s and he tried to make the old set fit but it could not be did.  It will have been nearly nine months or more like ten months if you count the first extractions, since I had any to speak of.

I have written Margué again, now some months, but had no reply as yet.  Hope to soon.  Feel better when we all correspond normally.

How are Denise Fredrick and Mathew and the school? How are our Jiggie and Pavli—

Please we love you—do reply again
To Jig mother
To Paula Evelyn
To all six my love and with Jacks.

* * * * *

Some time in the late summer of 1952 Jigg’s employment with Radio Free Europe came to an end.  There is no clue in the correspondence why this might have happened–perhaps Evelyn wrote to his employers, as she had so often done before?  In any case, the family left Munich for New York in September 1952 and found themselves without an income in the Hotel Chelsea in lower Manhattan, where they rented a cheap 2-room (including a small bath and a basic kitchen) serviced apartment. 

Hotel Chelsea
Hotel Chelsea [www.ny-architecture.com]

[The following letter was never opened, but was kept by Paula in the family archives, where it was discovered after her death.]

* * * * *

To Creighton Scott

October 26, 1952

Darling Jig:

Here’s to your fine paintings and your novels.  I have sent on the letter I hope arrived with you for your birthday, but I will reiterate on every birthday our unshaken belief in the high and fine creative talents Creighton Scott has proven both in the field of water-colour and oil and as an author of serious books.  There would have been many more paintings by Creighton Scott and, at least, two or three more serious novels by now, had the genuinely discriminating been better aware of the extent of senseless sacrifice that has been involved in the attempts  of the Creighton Scotts, Cyril Kay Scotts and the Evelyn Scott-John Metcalfe’s merely to survive.

Unless, by the time Jack and myself arrive in New York, I have full information as to the family’s present whereabouts, whether still in Munich or elsewhere, and am given accurate and full knowledge of their present and future prospects, and assurances as to the health—in every respect—of every one of them, I propose to raise hell.  I will do so very publically if need be, and in no uncertain terms.  I love my son and I consider what we have all been put through as to communication, as well as in regard to “planned” lives and a virtual dictation regarding what is published—in part circumstantial but a reasonable assertion on the basis of my own experiences and Jack’s, as well as yours—so blatantly inexcusable that it would merit a public crisis.  Are we to be driven to insisting on one, or not?  If we eventually are do know that everything we attempt is done for our own and most of all for you, darling Jig, whom Jack myself and Cyril love as we know Pavla does.

We continue to await public sanity, we ourselves being on every hand eminently sane individuals just as you and Pavla are.

Our love

–call it finite or infinite, it matters not at all—it IS OUR LOVE and we insist on personal and public truth for the reason that love for you demands this insistence.

Mother with our love to Pavla too and to four good bright children

* * * * *

Paula’s family on her mother’s side were not wealthy but were fairly prosperous, and Paula had to turn to them more than once.  Her latest plea was to her great-aunt Gertrude Brownell, who lived in late-Victorian splendour on Central Park West.

* * * * *

To Paula Scott

50 Central Park West
New York City

22 November 1952, Saturday evening

Dearest Pavli,

I am terribly distressed by your news—your suffering—and your difficulties.

You are creating difficulties for me too—who am taken for little less than half my income and need the other half for inevitable expenses (rent service living)

It seems unkind to mention this when you are so afflicted—but mentioning it makes me hope that Creighton will think better of going abroad—leaving a large family for others to provide for.  My hope is that he will look for a job in New York or at least in this country and so be able, to some extent at least, to look after the family for which he is responsible.

You evidently think that I can give you 500 dollars by sending a cheque by reply mail—I have to go to a savings bank to draw out the 500.00 additional—and will do this in Monday—(send you some part of it at least)

With much love to you all
Aunt Kitty

* * * * *








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