A Tale of Two Children

Peter K. Grimes had neither the cloak, the dagger nor the devil-may-care air of a scarlet pimpernel. A Boston travel agent, Harvardman Grimes, 32, married a German war widow who had come to the U.S. to study at Columbia University. His wife Irmgard had left her two young daughters by her first marriage in East Germany with her father, but she and Peter quickly agreed that the family should be brought together.

Twice, the Grimeses went to Germany to get the children, but Mrs. Grimes's father, an oldtime Communist and smalltown Red official named Paul Schroeder, would not surrender the girls to "capitalist America." "The future belongs to Communism," insisted Schroeder. "Why don't you stay here?"

So Grimes quit his job, got a Communist visa for ten days, registered with the U.S. consulate in Berlin, then went with Irmgard to the Schroeder home in Nassenheide, 25 miles north of Berlin. Evelyn, 11, and Monica, 14, knew only two American phrases--"Nuts" and a clumsy version of "You aggravate me"--and many terrible tales about America. Said Mrs. Grimes: "I was heartsick about Monica's books; containing nothing but lies about the U.S."

The Grimeses waged a slow campaign of love to win the two children. Schroeder fought back bitterly but silently; he was afraid to report the couple to the police because he had vouched for them. The ten days stretched into months, the visas expired, but the Grimeses stayed on and fought. "We had brought American film magazines along with us to show the children," said Grimes. "Monica became a fan of Gregory Peck and Tony Curtis. We told her she could see their films in America and that just about won the battle."

One day American authorities in Berlin sent an officer of the U.S. Military Mission in the Soviet zone to the Schroeder house to check on the long-overdue Grimeses. "That," said Grimes, "just about cooked our goose. WTe knew it was time to leave."

The girls were at last won over, although Monica was still slightly reluctant. .She and Evelyn wrote a note to their grandfather. "We got on a train," said Grimes, "but didn't dare sit with the children. We scattered around so we would not attract attention." The train took them to West Berlin. Next day Peter K. Grimes and family matter-of-factly walked into the U.S. consulate and applied for U.S. visas for the children. Then his story came out. "I wasn't afraid," said Grimes. "I'd do it again to get the children out."

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