HITLER'S FAVORITE PICTURE IS SAFE
Sept. 27, 1952
Dear Sugar Foot:
Munny and I returned last evening from a short visit with Mr. and
Mrs. Walter J. Behmer at Culver, Indiana, on Lake Maxinkuckee or
however it is spelled. Had a fine time. . .
Yesterday, we got an early start home. I wanted to see a little private bank at San Pierre, Ind., away up north of Lafayette on old No. 43. It used to be a private bank, but I found out they had changed to a state bank just this last January. Didn't stay there long.
Munny wanted to see Elizabeth Shoaf Purnell (Red's widow) who lives at Attica, Ind. . . . (She) was giving a party tonight for another old woman friend of ours, and who is her cousin, the former Miss Sina Booe; then became Sina B. Songer; then Sina B. Ross; and now has a new husband, some Frenchman whose name I do not remember and am too hurried to look up. They were married about the first of this year. She met him at Hot Springs, Arkansas—and is he a honey? He is. (After seeing Elizabeth we came home by way of Veedersburg, where Sina and said husband now live. Sina's parents struck oil years and years ago, and built a rather pretentious house in Veedersburg. At the time of the striking of oil, Red Purnell said to me that the "oil would agree with Sina," and it has). If ever I saw an adventurer for a rich widow, he is it. She is about 75 and he is 12 years younger than she. Therefore he will outlast her, in all probability. I doubt if he has ANY business, but says he is a sort of artist; sells pictures or something like that. Says he will be having an exhibit soon in New Orleans and southern cities. For a wedding present he gave her two pictures—God knows what they are. I think I probably saw them but am confused with the multitude of objects he showed hanging all over HER house. She takes all that stuff in like a real soldier. I have seen four flushers in my time—but he is tops in my opinion.
This new husband talks a blue streak and he fails utterly to speak illy of himself. To be truthful, I was amazed the way he talked. Maybe the highlight—if there could be a highlight in his conversation—went something like this. On the grand piano (Sina's) was a small picture in a sort of glass rope frame. We think the picture was named "Blowing Bubbles." Anyway, it was one of Hitler's favorites and Bro. Hitler kept it on his desk. In some miraculous way, this new husband of Sina's got hold of it. I think he said he stole it, maybe meaning he gave so little for it that same was next to stealing, but however he got it, it is now valued at $250,000, which I would say was a dam sight too high, but sitting there in Veedersburg on Sina's piano, right out in the open, I should venture the guess it will soon disappear once the Public finds out its value. There is one thing sure—I will never break into Sina's house to steal that picture. It is absolutely safe so far as I am concerned, much safer than the weather-beaten tomatoes on Ben's back porch right here next door.
Eventually he asked my business. I told him I was a farmer, and then the fireworks did start. Above all things on this Earth he wanted to be a farmer. That was his life's ambition, and on and on he went. I told him there was much more about farming than meets the naked eye.
Sooner or later Munny will give you the address up on 5th Ave. near Tiffany's where he is very prominent in some way or other.
This will do for today,
Pap