On Eliot Slater

Eliot Slater - A Tribute

by César Pérez de Francisco

I come from a family of physicians and odontologists; illness and therapeutic efforts were the background of my early life. When I was able to define and state clearly to myself what I felt, it was to realize that my father, my grandfather, my uncles, and all physicians, were combating the darker side of life. By this I mean that the war we, the white armies, wage is aimed at restoring health, at imposing order on the havoc caused by disease, and at preventing death; we are not accustomed in our work to see much of creativity, one aspect of the excellence human beings can achieve. I believe that the engineer, the farmer, the manufacturer and the miner all feel themselves to be in one way or another creative in producing, bridges, food, tooth­paste, or mercury.


Eliot - A War-Time Encounter

How Patterns of Marriage originated in a cabmen's café at Camberwell Green

by Moya Woodside

It was in July, 1943, the fourth year of the war, that I first met Eliot. At that time, the peripatetic students of the evacuated London School of Economics Mental Health Course had returned to Cambridge for final revision and exams. Nine months previously, after our introductory lectures, we had set out from Cambridge encumbered by bicycles, typewriters, suitcases, torches, ration books and identity cards, to do our clinical psychiatry at Mill Hill Hospital, our child guidance and mental deficiency at Oxford with fire‑watching included, then back to Cambridge when uncertainties about future employment began to loom large on the horizon.


Eliot Slater - A Personal Memory

By Vera Steal

Bethlem & Maudsley Gazette, Vol. 31 No 3, Summer 1983, p. 18-19

In the late 1940's, as a newly appointed psw at the Mauds­ley, I first became aware of Eliot Slater as the tall, quiet figure with an intriguing shock of corn‑coloured hair falling over his eyes, who with Jerry Shields occupied the next room. Around this time, someone remarked disparagingly that Eliot had been observed, in conversat­ion with colleagues, with his feet on the desk‑top. Not done in 1948! But I was amused by the unorthodoxy. However, he remained a shadowy figure (and I am sure he was unaware of my existence).