Theodora Keogh (1919-2008)
daughter of Archie Roosevelt, third son of Theodore Roosevelt, President of the United States in 1904.
Photo courtesy Bianca Dorso
A Roosevelt dancing during wartime was not considered "in the best national interest." -- The Telegraph
As I noted here, yesterday, with the passing of Theodora Keogh we have lost not only a novelist, a lady of style and substance and society, but one more fragile link to les temps as they become ever yet more perdus. I had hoped to compose some sort of fitting tribute when it was pointed out that not only had the Telegraph done the job admirably but that the accomplished writer Brooks Peters had posted a very fine piece on her as well.
In short there is nothing left for me to add, a fact which has rarely stopped me before but has instead in this instance reminded me, somewhat curiously, of a time when my paternal grandmother came to live with us, before my mother put her foot down and the old girl moved on to the Methodist Home. We would find her in the morning at the breakfast table, Kleenex stuffed in the cuff of her cardigan, scanning the newspaper obits and between tiny bites of blackened toast, making sad little sighing sounds until my father would demand to know what in Pete's sake the matter was and she would stop. We did not know, my siblings and I, preoccupied as we were with our cheerios (and surrepticiously fascinated by the woman's appetite for burnt toast), that her world was dwindling. We were dancing in the streets -- to borrow an image --during that heady wartime known as youth. We had yet to succumb to the allure of Parisian high society or the romantic charms of chauffeurs (which my grandmother -- I hasten to add -- would end up missing completely. Unlike Theodora).
But my revery is interrupted with a call from D.
"I want you to stop exposing yourself to the Korean Pentecostal Church."
I try to suggest they can't possibly see me from this far away, but he's past reason.
"Ted Kennedy has betrayed NOW," D. explains, on a roll. "Nothing is sacred."
Photo courtesy Bianca DorsoA Roosevelt dancing during wartime was not considered "in the best national interest." -- The Telegraph
As I noted here, yesterday, with the passing of Theodora Keogh we have lost not only a novelist, a lady of style and substance and society, but one more fragile link to les temps as they become ever yet more perdus. I had hoped to compose some sort of fitting tribute when it was pointed out that not only had the Telegraph done the job admirably but that the accomplished writer Brooks Peters had posted a very fine piece on her as well.
In short there is nothing left for me to add, a fact which has rarely stopped me before but has instead in this instance reminded me, somewhat curiously, of a time when my paternal grandmother came to live with us, before my mother put her foot down and the old girl moved on to the Methodist Home. We would find her in the morning at the breakfast table, Kleenex stuffed in the cuff of her cardigan, scanning the newspaper obits and between tiny bites of blackened toast, making sad little sighing sounds until my father would demand to know what in Pete's sake the matter was and she would stop. We did not know, my siblings and I, preoccupied as we were with our cheerios (and surrepticiously fascinated by the woman's appetite for burnt toast), that her world was dwindling. We were dancing in the streets -- to borrow an image --during that heady wartime known as youth. We had yet to succumb to the allure of Parisian high society or the romantic charms of chauffeurs (which my grandmother -- I hasten to add -- would end up missing completely. Unlike Theodora).
But my revery is interrupted with a call from D.
"I want you to stop exposing yourself to the Korean Pentecostal Church."
I try to suggest they can't possibly see me from this far away, but he's past reason.
"Ted Kennedy has betrayed NOW," D. explains, on a roll. "Nothing is sacred."
You might be interested to know of a new biography of one of Theodora's close friends from the 1950s -- Sally—The Older Woman's Illustrated Guide to Self-Improvement. Sally Paine Pierone, who was art director of the Marshall Plan in 1952, was chummy with the Keoghs in Paris. She and Tom Keogh were classmates at Chouinnard Art Institute in Los Angeles, circa 1938, and kept company in New York in the 40s. The book contains several photos of the Keoghs and numerous anecdotes. The blog has a post about Theodora. (www.sallythebook.wordpress.com)
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I knew Theodora well during her time in Deep Gap, N.C. I was 18 and Tommy O'toole picked me up hithchhiking and took me home to meet Theodora. They lived on a small farm on Wildcat Road, raised Great Pyrenes dogs, Nubian goats and Mainecoon cats. We became good friends,and had many wonderful dinners at their place. She was the most civilised yet fiercest woman I've ever met, and she seemed a little sad. I've never forgotten her. Tommy didn't think her books were proper reading material for me in those days, but I think I can handle it now. I'm so glad she's getting a new audience.
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My friend Brooks knew Theodora very well too. He lived with Theodora & Iolas Alexander in NYC, when they were dancing in nightclubs. He said she was in love with Iolas. Brooks inherited a lot of Iolas things, & included were letters written to Iolas from Theodora.
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