F. Scott Fitzgerald

“It seemed that the only lover she had ever wanted was a lover in a dream.” 

Renovations allow F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald Museum to display new exhibits about the famous couple

By Amber Sutton  

Fans of F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald now have the opportunity to learn more about the famed author and his wife thanks to recent renovations at a Montgomery museum dedicated to the couple.

The F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald Museum, which is located in the only surviving former home of the transient couple, is a nonprofit organization dedicated to celebrating the life and works of the Fitzgeralds.

While it has been in operation since 1986, this is the first time the entire downstairs of the residence will be included as part of the museum. Rooms that once were the Fitzgeralds' great room, study, kitchen and second sun porch will now serve as part of the museum and feature an array of new displays and exhibits about their lives.

"For 25 years, this was basically a two room show," said the museum's curator Willie Thompson. "Today, we have exhibits in seven rooms and that includes all of the downstairs of the house. So our square footage has more than doubled, and our number of exhibits has basically doubled as well."

New exhibits that will now be featured in the museum include the earliest known series of paper dolls created by Zelda Fitzgerald, a rotating exhibit of the Esquire magazines featuring Fitzgerald's last short stories as well as correspondence between Fitzgerald and his close friend and literary critic Edmund Wilson that has never previously been on display.

Thompson said the museum also plans to recreate the 318-book library that Fitzgerald had when he died in addition to installing a media center with audio/video exhibits about the Fitzgeralds in early 2016.

"Because we're the only Fitzgerald museum in the world, we tell the whole story of their lives," said Thompson. "We've had items in storage that we couldn't have on display since we didn't have room for it. These renovations give us the opportunity to share so much more with visitors."

The F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald Museum is located at 919 Felder Avenue. Its hours are 10 a.m. until 2 p.m. Wednesday through Friday as well as 1 p.m. until 5 p.m. on Saturday and Sunday. Donations are asked for admission.

Tender Is the Night

 “…You never knew exactly how much space you occupied in people’s lives"                    

                                

                                                                      

I shall go on shining

“I shall go on shining as a brilliantly meaningless figure in a meaningless world.”     
                                                                                         The Beautiful and Damned

Fitzgerald

“You are the finest, loveliest, tenderest, and most beautiful person I have ever known- and even that is an understatement.”      
               F. Scott Fitzgerald, “Letter to Zelda Fitzgerald,” 1939


“Goodnight dear. If you were in my bed it might be the back of your head I was touching, where the hair is short, or it might be up in the front where it makes little caves above your head. But wherever it was, it would be the sweetest place, the sweetest place.”   Zelda Fitzgerald, “Letter to F. Scott Fitzgerald,” 1931

Quotes

“He was in love with her and the moon was around her.”

“One autumn night, years before, they came to a place where the moonlight stopped and change was among the stars.”

The real Great Gatsby: Cincinnati lawyer known as 'King of the Bootleggers' who turned to crime when he noticed his clients were getting rich

•           George Remus was a lawyer turned bootlegger during U.S Prohibition

•           He made millions selling and distributing his illegal alcohol in Cincinatti

•           Once threw a party and gave every woman a car and men diamond watches

•           Believed to be inspiration behind eponymous character in F. Scott Fitzgerald's 'The Great Gatsby' after a chance encounter with the writer

By Keiligh Baker 

George Remus, a Cincinatti lawyer, was known as 'King of the Bootleggers' and may have been the inspiration behind F. Scott Fitzgerald's Gatsby

A Cincinnati lawyer who was known as 'King of the Bootleggers' and turned to crime after noticing his clients were getting rich may have been the real life inspiration behind The Great Gatsby.

George Remus was born in Germany in 1874, before his family moved to Chicago when he was five.

After supporting his family by working in a pharmacy from the age of 14, he bought the pharmacy at 19, expanded and bought another in his early twenties before deciding to become a lawyer aged 24.

He specialised in criminal defence, particularly in murder cases and by 1920 he was earning $50,000 a year - a huge amount at the time.

In 1920 Remus divorced his first wife Lillian after embarking on an affair with his legal secretary, Augusta Imogene Holmes, whom he subsequently married.

That year U.S. Congress decided to ban toting or selling alcohol - but bizarrely, drinking was still allowed.

'Remus soon noticed the criminals he was defending were getting rich off bootlegging,' Roy Hotchkiss of the Price Hill Historical Society told the Cincinnati Enquirer.

'He saw all this money and thought he'd better get in on the action.'

Remus began studying the Volstead Act – the law that enforced Prohibition – and soon found several loopholes.

His pharmaceutical background came in handy when he realized the loopholes meant he could buy distilleries and pharmacies to sell 'bonded' liquor to himself under government licenses for 'medicinal' purposes.

Remus's employees would then 'steal' his liquor so he could sell it on illegally.

By this point he had moved to Cincinnati and bought up most of the whiskey manufacturers.

In less than three years Remus made $40 million - in today's currency almost $900 million.

George Remus shared many characteristics with the character of Jay Gatsby (pictured is Hollywood actor Leonardo di Caprio as Gatsby in the 2013 film) - he was overly generous, ostentatious and yet introverted

He owned many of America's most famous distilleries, including the Fleischmann Distillery, which he bought for $197,000 - a price which included 3,100 gallons of whiskey. 

In addition to becoming the 'King of the Bootleggers' Remus was known as a generous host.

He held many parties, including a 1923 birthday party for Imogene in which she appeared in a daring bathing suit, serenaded by a fifteen-piece orchestra.

Remus enjoyed flaunting his wealth - his mansion in Price Hill was decorated in rare art and exotic plants.

For his daughter Romola he installed a massive indoor pool at a reported cost of $125,000.

He was renowned for throwing lavish galas and events where he showered guests with expensive gifts.

As parting gifts, Remus presented all the men with diamond watches and gave each woman a brand new car.

But despite his overt generosity Remus was an introvert. He did not drink or smoke and during parties he would sometimes retreat to his personal library – much like Jay Gatsby.

Mr Hotchkiss said: 'F. Scott Fitzgerald met Remus by chance at a hotel in Louisville.

'The writer was fascinated with this larger-than-life personality, and based the eponymous character in 'The Great Gatsby' on Remus.

'There used to be a photo of Remus surrounded by the police chief, Capone and Fitzgerald, all in laughter. He truly was a character that transcends time.'

Remus was also seen as charitable, donating money and presents to those in need - along with those who were perhaps not so needy.

'Remus had an untold amount of bribes to the police, lawyers and government,' Mr Hotchkiss said.

He allegedly even paid off the U.S. Attorney General of the time.

But his luck finally ran out and in 1925 he was charged with thousands of violations of the Volstead Act and was sentenced to a two-year prison term in Atlanta Federal Penitentiary.

But according to biographers he still managed to throw a lavish party on his private train coach to Georgia.

While behind bars he enjoyed his meals at the prison chaplain's residence, his cell was always decorated with flowers and he was even waited on by servants.

His cellmate was Franklin Dodge and the pair got on so well Remus even confided how he was hiding his personal assets from the government - by keeping his wife Imogene in charge of his estate.

But Dodge was an undercover FBI agent, sent to prison to investigate a corrupt warden.

Dodge, for his part, did not tell the agency but instead resigned his post and headed to Cincinnati.

There he embarked on an affair with Imogene Remus and helped to spend most of her husband's empire, leaving Remus destitute.

She sold his mansion, his distilleries and all of his possessions, leaving him just $100.

After Remus left prison Imogene filed for divorce, but on her way to the courthouse to finalise it Remus had his cab driver chase her down.

She was forced to abandon her vehicle in Eden Park and in front of a shocked crowd Remus shot and killed her.

George Remus owned this property on Rapid Run Pike in Cincinatti, Ohio during the peak of his career

The subsequent trial attracted national attention.

The prosecution was led by Charles Phelps Taft II, the son of former President William Howard Taft.

Despite the testimony of several witnesses, Remus was found not guilty by reason of insanity.

There were rumours of trial fraud, a theory that appeared proven when Remus threw a celebratory party after the verdict with all 12 jurors in attendance.

Remus' stay in the asylum was short as he used Taft's reasoning that he was not insane to get himself back out again.

A free Remus tried to restart his bootlegging venture, but found other bootleggers had taken control of the market in his absence and so he retired, dying in 1952 of natural causes aged 77.

Cincinnati lawyer was smuggler, model for Gatsby

 Joel M. Beall, jbeall@enquirer.com 11:14 a.m. EST February 9, 2015

Jay Gatsby, the man of fortune and tragedy, was real. His actual name was George Remus. He lived in Cincinnati.

And he was known as the "King of the Bootleggers."

His story is one of the reasons why the Cincinnati Library has designated "The Great Gatsby" as this year's selection for its annual On the Same Page program. Helping build common threads through literature, the event is banking on the popularity of the fictional Jay Gatsby to bring the community together.

Just as Prohibition 95 years ago drove the community apart.

It was 1920 when the U.S. Congress decided to ban toting or selling alcohol. Drinking, bizarrely enough, was still allowed.

As booze and spirits remained in demand, this ban fostered the practice of bootlegging. Spurred by organized crime, the manufacturing and dealing of liquor became a highly profitable industry.

No man benefited more from this movement than Remus.

A Chicago pharmacist and attorney in his early life, Remus became interested in smuggling after studying the twists and turns of the law.

"He noticed all the criminals he was defending as a lawyer were getting rich off bootlegging," said Roy Hotchkiss of the Price Hill Historical Society. "He saw all this money and thought he'd better get in on the action."

“Remus would have these grand banquets, and under his guests' dinner plates would be jewelry. At one event, each guest found a set of keys to a new car.”

Remus, already wealthy, began studying the Volstead Act – the law that enforced Prohibition – and found numerous, glaring technicalities. This is where his pharmaceutical background kicked in.

"You could get a certificate to serve alcohol under the premise of medicine," Hotchkiss said. "It allowed him to abuse the system and the market."

In his research, Remus found that Cincinnati, with its German population, produced over 80 percent of all bonded alcohol. Coupled with Chicago's heavy Mafia, black-market presence in bootlegging, he circled Cincinnati's unfettered market as a place to make his mark.

A mark that still stands today.

Here's how the scheme worked: Remus purchased distilleries and created trucking companies. His own employees would then "steal" his medicinal alcohol so Remus could push it illegally. A 50-acre farm that served as the home base for his enterprise was also acquired for the operation. Within three years of setting up his illegal business, Cincinnati, Remus pulled in $40 million. In today's currency, that's nearly $900 million. Given the annual median income in that time was $1,400, not a bad payday.

Remus was not shy about flaunting his riches. He bought a mansion in Price Hill, decorating it with rare art and exotic plants. For his daughter, he installed a massive indoor pool at a reported cost of $125,000.

He was renowned for throwing lavish galas and events, showering patrons with expensive gifts.

"Remus would have these grand banquets, and under his guests' dinner plates would be jewelry," Hotchkiss said. "At one event, each guest found a set of keys to a new car."

Despite that, Remus was an introvert. He didn't drink or smoke and, during many parties, he would retreat to his personal library. He was also seen as charitable, donating money and presents to those in need.

Still, Remus didn't rise to power by compassion.

"Remus had an untold amount of bribes to the police, lawyers and government," Hotchkiss said. Allegedly, he went as far as paying off the U.S. Attorney General.

Not only did these kickbacks allow Remus to run his operations without interference, but they also forced law enforcement to focus on his rivals. Remus was notorious for ransacking the competition, even getting caught sabotaging a whiskey pipeline at the Jack Daniels distillery in St. Louis.

Remus' farm, located off Queen City Avenue in present day Westwood, was nicknamed "Death Valley" for its fortification of armed guards and the compound's hazardous terrain.

 Alas, he didn't buck the system for long. In 1925, he was charged with thousands of violations of the Volstead Act and was sentenced to a two-year term in Atlanta Federal Penitentiary. Even in this predicament, Remus had a stylish flair, throwing a bash in his private train coach to Georgia. In jail, he had his meals at the prison chaplain's residence, his cell was decorated with flowers and he was waited on by servants.

And that's when things got really interesting.

While serving time in Atlanta, Remus' cellmate was Franklin Dodge. Remus and Dodge got along famously. Remus confided how he was hiding his personal assets from the government: mainly, by keeping his wife, Imogene, in charge of the estate.

One problem: Dodge was an undercover FBI agent, sent to prison to investigate a corrupt warden.

But instead of relaying this information to the agency, Dodge instead resigned his post and headed to Cincinnati. There, he started an affair with Imogene Remus and helped dissolve most of the bootlegger's empire, leaving George out in the cold.

"She sold his mansion, his distilleries, all of his possessions," Hotchkiss said. "Out of all that, she left him just $100. As you can imagine, Remus was furious."

Once Remus left prison, Imogene filed for separation. On her way to the courthouse to finalize the divorce, Remus had his cab drive chase down Imogene, forcing her to abandon her vehicle in Eden Park. In front of multiple park visitors, Remus shot and killed Imogene by the Spring House Gazebo.

The ensuing trial brought national attention to Cincinnati, with the prosecution being led by Charles Phelps Taft II, son of former President William Howard Taft. Despite the testimony of numerous witnesses, Remus was found not guilty by reason of insanity.

"Remus was a lot of things, but he was also a smart man," Hotchkiss said. "He defended himself during the trial."

It helped that many in the community held Remus in a positive light, and Imogene's adultery painted Remus as the victim. Conversely, there were also charges of trial fraud, a sentiment that gained steam when Remus threw a celebration after the verdict – with all 12 jurors in attendance.

Remus' stay in the asylum was short, thanks to, well, Remus.

"He brought back Taft, using Taft's reasoning that he wasn't insane to get himself out," Hotchkiss said. "Really, it was genius."

Now free, Remus tried to restart his bootlegging venture. By then, though, the rum-running businesses was now a crowded field. Remus soon retired to Covington. Aside from owning stock in the Cincinnati Reds, the rest of his life was relatively quiet. Remus died in 1952 of natural causes at the age of 77.

Back to Gatsby: "F. Scott Fitzgerald met him by chance at a hotel in Louisville," Hotchkiss said. The writer was fascinated with this larger-than-life personality, and based the eponymous character in "The Great Gatsby" on Remus.

Remus has also been a character in the HBO series "Boardwalk Empire" and has a whiskey named in his honor.

Remus' time in the limelight was short. Yet in a period when bootleggers reigned supreme, Hotchkiss said, his star shone bright.

"There used to be a photo of Remus surrounded by the police chief, Capone and Fitzgerald, all in laughter. He truly was a character that transcends time."

Tight young things: F Scott Fitzgerald’s tips on how to save money

The author of The Great Gatsby is not known for his restraint. But what can we learn from his suggestions of how to tighten the purse strings?

‘I had exhausted my resources and there was nothing else to do’ …

Alison Flood

This is a frugal time of year for many of us, so I feel indebted to Scribner Magazine this morning for posting a wonderful extract from F Scott Fitzgerald’s autobiography in which the Gatsby author describes his own attempts to live on a budget.

Part of a series of pieces marking the 90th anniversary of the publication of The Great Gatsby, it is genuinely funny and charming, as the author and his wife, Zelda, attempt to work out why they are unable to account for $1,000 a month.

“There was no help for it – I must go to work,” writes the novelist. “I had exhausted my resources and there was nothing else to do. In the train I listed all our possessions on which, if it came to that, we could possibly raise money. Here is the list: one oil stove, damaged. Nine electric lamps, all varieties. Two bookcases with books to match. One cigarette humidor, made by a convict. Two framed crayon portraits of my wife and me. One medium-priced automobile, 1921 model. One bond, par value $1,000; actual value unknown.”

They discuss their options, Zelda suggesting they “get a Japanese to do general housework” and cut down on servants; her husband counters, tongue in cheek, that “it’s nice to have the butler; if we have an awful smash we can send him up to New York to hold us a place in the bread line”.

They lay out their expenses – food, $202; income tax, $198; golf clubs, $105.50 – and their spending on “pleasure”: theatre, taxis, gambling, entertaining. But they cannot track down the whereabouts of the missing money. Then their neighbour suggests sticking to a budget.

“It is simple and sensible, and I can explain it to you in a few words,” writes Fitzgerald. “You consider your income as an enormous pie all cut up into slices, each slice representing one class of expenses. Somebody has worked it all out; so you know just what proportion of your income you can spend on each slice. There is even a slice for founding universities, if you go in for that.”

“For instance, the amount you spend on the theatre should be half your drug-store bill. This will enable us to see one play every five and a half months, or two and a half plays a year. We have already picked out the first one, but if it isn’t running five and a half months from now we shall be that much ahead. Our allowance for newspapers should be only a quarter of what we spend on self-improvement, so we are considering whether to get the Sunday paper once a month or to subscribe for an almanac.”

The publisher Melville House’s excellent blog MobyLives, which alerted me to the extract, is duly impressed. “All the financial tips that run these days suggest you cut down on $5 coffees,” writes editor Kirsten Reach. “Who would have guessed we just needed to sell portraits of ourselves, cut down on the theatre tickets and subscribe to an almanac?”

Two quotes

“She wanted to crawl into his pocket and be safe forever.”

“Books mean more than people to me anyway.”

            

At fifteen you had the radiance

“At fifteen you had the radiance of early morning, at twenty you will begin to have the melancholy brilliance of the moon.”

F.Scott

“You are the loveliest thing that I have ever known.”  Love in the Night

“In spite of all the warmth and delicacy of her face, the figure that somehow reminded me of an exquisite, romanticized little ballerina, there was a quality in her that was as hard as steel.”   “The Bowl”

“I wish I had done everything on earth with you.”