Dorothy Kilgallen, ‘Girl Reporter,’ Honored With Street Naming
The journalist and “What’s My Line?” game show icon died in her nearby townhouse in 1965 while she was investigating the JFK assassination. Now there’s Dorothy Kilgallen Way.
Shout it loud and proud, East Siders, there’s a new street in town, and it celebrates one of our own: the legendary “girl reporter,” radio star and “What’s My Line?” game show icon, Dorothy Kilgallen. Henceforth and forever, the southeast corner of East 68th Street and Park Avenue will be co-named Dorothy Kilgallen Way.
The location was chosen because Kilgallen, who was born in Chicago on July 3, 1913, lived in a nearby townhouse, at 45 E. 68th St.—and died there, under mysterious, disputed circumstances, on Nov. 8, 1965. May the bright and energetic girls of the nearby Dominican Academy and all others who pass by look up and wonder, Who?
The co-naming came about largely by the efforts of Council member Bob Holden of Queens, an aficionado of JFK assassination lore, who became interested in Kilgallen via the work of Mark Shaw, author of three books exploring the links between Kilgallen and Jack Ruby—whom she interviewed—and FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover and the like. While Kilgallen’s death was always mysterious—booze and pills, yes, but what else? Murder, perhaps? Shaw’s Kilgallen book, The Reporter Who Knew Too Much, expands on that of Lee Israel’s 1979 biography of Kilgallen.
Shaw was present at the ceremony, as was Godfather actor Gianni Russo, who met Kilgallen as a teenage associate of 1950s Mafia boss Frank Costello.
Without affirming or denying Shaw’s theses, that his work inspired Holden to honor Kilgallen is notable, though this reporter suggests that two Kennedy conspiracy novels, Don DeLillo’s Libra (2008) and James Ellroy’s American Tabloid (2005) are perhaps better starting places for JFK neophytes. Two assassination-related songs, Lou Reed’s “The Day John Kennedy Died” (1981) and Bob Dylan’s “Murder Most Foul” (2020), are also recommended.
“She shattered glass ceilings in an era when men ruled broadcasting and the press, from her fearless columns in the New York Journal American to her sharp wit on “What’s My Line,” said Holden on X.
“Kilgallen relentlessly pursued the truth, including her probing reporting on the JFK assassination, and she died under mysterious circumstances while still investigating. We will not forget her courage, her voice, or her legacy.
“I am committed to keeping her story alive and pushing for the transparency and justice she was seeking. Thank you to the advocates, historians, and New Yorkers who helped make this co-naming a reality.”
A substantial part of Kilgallen’s legacy includes “What’s My Line?,” the legendary weekly game show she appeared on from 1950 until her death, bantering with regular panel members Arlene Francis, publisher Bennett Cerf, host John Daly, and others.
A ‘Girl Reporter’ Comes of Age
Kilgallen grew up mostly in Brooklyn, graduating from Erasmus Hall High School in Flatbush in 1930, placing her in a long line of illustrious alum, including her near contemporaries, novelist and short story writer, Bernard Malamud and actor Eli Wallach, both class of 1932.
After two semesters of The College New Rochelle, Kilgallen left school went and followed her father, James Kilgallen, into the newspaper racket—“An editor’s dream of a reporter,” said Damon Runyon. Tragically, the elder Kilgallen outlived his daughter by 17 years, dying age 94, in December 1982.
Like her dad, who worked for the William Randolph Hearst-owned International News Service (INS) wire service, Dorothy joined a Hearst property, the New York Evening Journal.
Talented from the start, Kilgallen came to international attention in October 1936 when she and two other reporters, H.R. Ekins of the New York Evening Journal, and Leo Kieran of The New York Times, competed in a race around the world to see who could set a commercial-travel flight record.
An Oct. 3 United Press dispatch captured the excitement:
Three World Air Racers Scatter on Reaching Europe—Girls Arrives in Munich and Takes Train for Rome—Ekins in Vienna; Kieran’s Plans Secret.
Published later that year by David McKay Co. of Washington Square, Kilgallen’s book about her adventure was titled, Girl Around the World, with Damon Runyon writing the affectionate jacket copy:
“A mere slip of a girl has put over the greatest sporting enterprise of the year—of a whole flock of years, in fact. Ladies and gentlemen, we give you Miss Killgallen! Her first name is Dorothy. Her intimate friends call her ‘Dot.’ . . .
“We wish you could see Dorothy Kilgallen. She is slender and feminine and young and apparently frail, but don’t let appearances fool you. Out on a story, she has the strength and endurance of two ordinary male reporters, and at least six sports writers. Sports writers aren’t strong, you know.”
Unfortunately, this book has never been reissued and is a rarity today, with copies including its strikingly designed dust jacket listing for upwards of $700.
Such was Kilgallen’s celebrity after this that she appeared, playing an unnamed reporter, in a 1937 murder movie, Sinners Take All, and she was asked to endorse Camel cigarettes. Rather than just give an attributed quote like others stars, she appeared in a half-broadsheet, 15-panel comic, “Girl Reporter Flies Around the World,” credited to her byline.
“What Dorothy Kilgallen says about Camels,” the ad’s conclusion began, “is backed up by baseball’s Iron Man—Lou Gehrig—by Dorothy Ponynton Hill, Olympic Diving Champion, by outstanding people in every walk of life.”
“It was a breathless dash,” Kilgallen offered in another Camel ad. “I snatched meals anywhere, ate all kinds of food. But Camels helped me keep my digestion tuned up. I’ll bet on them any time—for mildness, for their delicate flavor, and for their cheery lift.”
So elevated, Kilgallen returned to more earthbound reporting, and in 1938 she began writing a freewheeling “Voice of Broadway” column in the manner of Walter Winchell, but with sass, perspective, and sources all her own.
A charming father-daughter duet was played in a December 1942 James Kilgallen column, in which Dorothy explained to her Old Man how to be the only girl Broadway columnist in New York. Among her tips:
“Trick No. 1 Pappy, in writing a Broadway column is to steer clear of libel. It’s all right to say you saw a broker’s wife having tea with Tallulah Bankhead in the Colony. But if you see said broker’s wife holding hands with a handsome gigolo at Leon & Eddie’s, just throw her a ‘you-better-watch-yourself’ smile and keep the incident in your memory book. She may give you the real item someday.
“Try not to hurt anyone’s feelings. But don’t take any backtalk when you really have the facts. If you do inadvertently offend some sensitive soul, don’t let it get you down. Time takes care of everything.
“They like heart throb tales about little people. . . . Cinderella stories . . . the story of the overnight star. People who ride subways like to be made to feel that celebrities are like themselves away from the spotlight. Often, they are.”
“She shattered glass ceilings in an era when men ruled broadcasting and the press” — City Council member Robert F. Holden