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By Myra Bairstow
The 21st of October is a date of personal reflection for me. I continue to support and be enthralled by the story of Dorothy Donovan Hale because the true narrative of her life is finally being pieced together, seventy-four years after her death.
The liberation of this story is unusual because it was unraveled through a painting. The odds were stacked against the survival of this particular painting. It was almost destroyed out of anger. Sections of the canvas were irreverently covered up and overpainted. The picture was crated and placed in storage for thirty years before unexpectedly resurfacing. Fortunately, it was donated to a museum where it resides today. The painting, ‘El Suicidio de Dorothy Hale’, is a survivor, like the icon who painted it, Frida Kahlo, and like the subject it depicts, Dorothy Donovan Hale.
When I first saw Frida’s haunting painting of Dorothy, I had no idea it would lead me on a fascinating and provocative journey that would unravel at its own pace and linger with me for over a decade of my life. As I write my book about Dorothy Hale and my experiences along the way, I am eager to share her unknown, yet deeply layered life as well as the mysteries I’ve discovered around her tragic and premature death. I am proud to be the first researcher to locate and contact the family of Dorothy and listen to their stories. I am grateful to Dorothy’s niece, Penny, who embraced my study of her aunt and who shared with me detailed aspects of the Donovan family history. Importantly, Penny lived with Dorothy’s father, James Donovan, for the first eleven years of her life and she grew up witnessing his grief and listening to his viewpoints.
During our numerous conversations and correspondences, Penny said that she wanted me to meet one of her cousins whom she thought had some personal items of Dorothy’s that might assist in my research. Unfortunately, she had lost contact with this particular cousin for over a decade. Until Penny’s death, she continued to search for her cousin, but the quest was unsuccessful.
It would take many, many years, but serendipitously and very unexpectedly I would cross paths with Penny’s cousin. This took place only last month. Thanks to the generosity and trust of Penny’s cousin, my book will be enriched with more documentation about Dorothy.
The first year we met, Penny called me on October 21st and made a request. She asked if I could conspicuously leave a rose in remembrance of Dorothy near the vicinity of the Hampshire House on Central Park South. I have carried on this tradition for years, even after Penny passed away. This October 21st will be no different. In memory of Dorothy Donovan Hale and the entire Donovan family.
Myra Bairstow
