The mystery and real-life tragedy of Dorothy Dandridge - African-American actress of the 1950s

Ebony, Dec, 1993 by Walter Leavy

Was her death an accident or suicide? Did powerful men in Hollywood drive her to the edge?

THE coroner's report, dated Nov. 19, 1965, was the last chapter in the tragic story of a genuine, strikingly beautiful entertainer. Within the 18-page report labeled "Case No. 20813" was the long-awaited conclusion: Dorothy Jean Dandrige, Hollywood's first authentic Black sex symbol, had died from acute drug intoxication due to an overdose of Tofranil, an antidepressant. She was only 42.

When the final curtain rang down, the star of such movies as Carmen Jones and Porgy and Bess was found lying on the bathroom floor of her Sunset Strip apartment. It marked the end of the troubled life that was punctuated by pain, sorrow, disappointment and one heart-breaking tragedy after another. But there were triumphs, too, prompting those who knew her best to compare her life to a bright, shiny apple that has internal bruises. On the outside she was beautiful and surrounded by all the trappings that befit a star. But on the inside she suffered from the personal turmoil that wreaked havoc on her soul.

This year (September 8) marked the 28th anniversary of Dorothy Dandridge's death, and her name still evokes some special thoughts and feelings. For many who knew her personally or simply worshipped her from afar, the adulation, the memories and the mysteries still remain. And that continuing interest has led to the birth of several screenplays based on the sex goddess' life, with the mention of such stars as Janet Jackson, Jasmine Guy and former Miss America Vanessa Williams being cast in the lead role.

Dandrige, a 5-foot-5, honey-colored woman, was a ravishing beauty who had a sensual swagger. She became the silver screen's hottest Black sex symbol and was described at one time as one of the five most beautiful women in the world. Her beauty, grace, good singing voice and acting ability all came into play during the transformation of her life into a classic Hollywood tale -- one with a bittersweet mixture of joy and pain. First there was the fruit of her labor -- the fame, the $100,000 per movie, a collection of jewels, a mansion in Hollywood Hills and a white Thunderbird car that was accentuated by the matching white beaver coat in which she wrapped herself. She was a star among stars.

Sadly, though, whatever glory she grasped from that pedestal was often overshadowed by the seemingly inevitable and heavy doses of disaster and despair -- two failed marriages, an abortion after an affair with producer/director Otto Preminger, a child who suffered brain damage, a floundering career, loss of a fortune in bad investments, eight lawsuits from creditors, the foreclosure on her elegant home and, finally, the embarrassment of bankruptcy. "There's no doubt that the tragedies, some of them extreme in nature, directly contributed to Dorothy's death," says Earl Mills, who began serving as Dorothy's manager in 1951 and was still in that position when she died. "Each tragic event took a little bit more out of her and eventually there was nothing else to take."

The tragedy that took the most involved her daughter, Harolyn, who was mentally retarded as a result of brain damage suffered at birth. Dorothy, who at the time was married to Harold Nicholas of the dancing Nicholas Brothers, was constantly burdened with guilt and depression because she believed she was responsible for the child's condition. It was two years after the birth that she learned the horrible truth -- Harolyn's mentality, doctors said, wouldn't develop beyond that of a four-year-old.

It was speculated that somehow, before delivery, the infant's supply of oxygen had been interrupted. Dorothy believed she waited too long to go to the hospital. But it was later said, however, that the brain damage could have been caused during delivery. "Dottie never got over the overwhelming guilt she felt because she thought she was responsible for her child's condition. She lived with that thought every day of her life," says Geraldine Branton, who at one time was married to Harold's brother, Fayard Nicholas, and was Dorothy's best friend. "You could never convince her she wasn't at fault. And nothing she did made up for what she felt she had done."

Harolyn was taken from doctor to doctor in a desparate attempt to find a cure for her problem. There was none. Dorothy sank deeper into her depression, and at the same time, her marriage to Harold Nicholas was crumbling. They drifted apart, and after seven yearsm theur marriage ended in divorce in 1949.

Now the walls seemed to be closing in on Dorothy. She felt she had failed as a mother and a wife. And now without a husband, without money and with a child to care for, she had to get back to what she knew best -- performing. But before renewing the career she had put on hold after her marriage, she reacquainted herself with damed vocal coach and composer Phil Moore. Years earlier, he had worked with Dorothy and her sister, Vivian, when they were billed as "The Wonder Children" and, later, as "The Dandrige Sisters" (which included Etta Jones).