Notes from David Scharff's reading at the Tavistock Clinic memorial:
I first met Hyatt in 1972 when he was recently widowed. It was the summer; he was working in his garden, and inviting me to his home was his way of welcoming me to the Tavi¹s Adolescent Department, of which he was Chair. He seemed that year to be a cross between brilliant, intuitive, forbidding, and absent-minded. He would sit in supervision or in a meeting going through his briefcase or shuffling through papers, seemingly absent, only to look up and say something pointed and original –- seemingly out of nowhere -- but brilliant.
I remember vividly one incisive comment he made when I had recently arrived for my year’s sabbatical in the Adolescent Department at the Tavistock Clinic. Of my American brashness, Hyatt said, “The question is whether David Scharff has come here to teach us or to learn from us.” It was a helpful confrontation that got us off to a good start.
Toasting a Spanish visiting doctor, he said, “You know, it’s
probably no accident that outside of Britain, Kleinian analysis has
the same distribution as bull fighting.”
Inspired but not limited by Klein, Segal and Bion, Hyatt valued people
above doctrine. He had friends from all tracks of the British Psychoanalytic,
and well beyond in the analytic world. He was an entertaining supervisor,
bringing fresh wit and wisdom to each clinical situation, free from
jargon and dogma.
I remember a Leicester conference we attended together where he consulted to the consultants whose puzzling behavior had upset the whole group. He said that the mother doesn’t understand that her baby fears being dropped, just as the group felt dropped now in the hands of the consultants. “How did he know that?” I wondered.
And how did he know so much about literature and the natural world? Hyatt declaimed Keats and Shakespeare and delighted in naming each butterfly and flower. He was as unique in the breadth of his interests as in his capacity to invest in his students, supervisees, and mentees. He was invited to Australia, Italy, and of course America. All over the world, his students and colleagues spoke of him as a special person, a man who loved gardening, poetry, psychoanalysis – and murderers.
Hyatt worked for years with incarcerated prisoners developing his ideas
on murderousness, but he had trouble bringing them to publication. Fortunately,
Paul Williams (no relation) served selflessly as his editor. I was privileged
to help by arranging for Jason Aronson in the US and Karnac in the UK
to publish their collaboration, Cruelty, Violence and Murder.
How did Hyatt face the fear of working with incarcerated prisoners convicted
of homicide? How did he develop such strength of understanding and compassion
for these troubled men? Let’s join him as he addresses this in
Washington, DC, and consults to a colleague.
(At this point a video was shown that will be uploaded to the site soon)
Hyatt ended that day’s experience of being filmed with a personal association. He said, “My youngest child, when he saw me on television years and years ago, was asked what he thought of it. And he said, ‘I’d much rather have Popeye!’”
Hyatt’s image of the murderer, who knew to spend part of every
day in mourning for what he had done, stays in my mind as a lesson in
living. Hyatt himself had the capacity to mourn. He had compassion for
all who had been destructive in their lives, and he had faith in their
capacity for restitution.
In his personal life, Hyatt was widowed twice after marriages to Lorna
and Shiona, both of whom he loved and valued. His sons, his step children,
and their families were always important to him, and their individual
characters and accomplishments were matters of proud conversation. Hyatt
was surprised and delighted to have another chance at marriage, and
grateful to Gianna for the 25 loving and productive years he spent with
her.
Personally, I appreciated Hyatt’s warm and thoughtful understanding when he continued to advise me in my American roles long after my year at the Tavi. I loved the streak of naughtiness, the occasional indiscretions, and the irrepressible giggle that marked his intimate conversations. Above all, I am grateful to him as a dear friend, loyal supporter, and mentor to me and my American colleagues and students.
Hyatt was an inspiration, a man who lived close to heart and bone -- a true original.