It’s amazing what you can find online if you look, and there is no better example than the following story that was pieced together by members of the Vintage Fashion Guild.
It all started with a discussion over the date of an Edwardian orange opera cloak. The maker’s label “E O’Donovan” was familiar to Hollis of Past Perfect vintage because of another dress with the same label she sold a few years earlier. After some googling, it was discovered that Eleanor (aka Ellen) O’Donovan was born in Canada in 1852 and had moved to the States by 1870 to work as a domestic in upstate New York. By 1880 she was married to a Jeremiah (aka Jerry) O’Donovan. He ran a dry goods shop and she worked as a dressmaker. Her unmarried sister Margaret O’Brien lived with them, most likely working alongside her sister as a dressmaker.
In the 1898 memoir of convicted Irish Fenian leader Jeremiah O’Donovan Rossa, the late Jerry O’Donovan is thanked for his help and support. Rossa also mentions Leo and Alfred, Jerry and Ellen O’Donovan’s two sons, who were studying at Fordham College, as well as Madame O’Donovan of No. 37 West 36th street, New York. An 1894 dress in the collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art bears a label with this address. Ellen opened her own shop in about 1889, and it seems her sister Margaret opened a shop soon thereafter. A purple silk and lace bodice from the turn of the century is in the collection of the Charleston Museum with the label “M O’Brien – Robes – 266 West 38th St. N.Y.”
By 1909 Ellen O’Donovan had met her second husband Robert McNamara. Retaining the O’Donovan name for her business, Ellen employed her son Alfred to manage a more upscale 5th avenue location for her shop. That same year, a U.S. customs investigation caught Ellen, Alfred, and Margaret in a ring of French fashion smuggling: “A wholesale roundup of importers of gowns, laces, silks, and millinery, together with other persons involved in the smuggling frauds uncovered on the piers of the American Line and the Red Star Line last Spring, was begun yesterday by the United States Attorney Henry A. Wise… Following are those arrested here yesterday:… Alfred J. O’Donovan, of 381 Fifth Avenue, released on $1,500 bail; Ellen McNamara, alias Ellen O’Donovan, and Margaret J. Smith of 37 West Thirty-sixth Street, released on $1,500 bail each.”
Dubbed “The Sleeper Trunk Game”, a consignment of French gowns and other dutiable goods by New York dressmakers was filled by a Paris agent. He would scan the steamship passenger lists, selecting names of Americans who were about to sail for New York on an American or Red Star Line ship, and then pack the consignments into trunks labeled with these culled names. The trunks were sent to the Paris piers too late to be stowed on the passenger’s ship and were instead put onto the next available ship. Once the trunks reached the American and Red Star line pier in New York, a customs agent working with the smuggling ring would whisk the trunks away under the auspices of storing them for the recently returned American passengers to claim, but instead send them onto the New York dressmakers who paid the smugglers 50% of what the duty would have been if everything had been shipped legally. The scam netted an annual loss in fees for customs of about a half million dollars. In one of the last shipments before the crackdown, Eleanor, Alfred and Margaret (as well as other dressmakers) placed an order that was sent under the traveller’s name of Nellie grant, the granddaughter of president Ulysses S. Grant. A week after Nellie Grant sailed from Paris, three trunks were sent on the S.S. Gothland. Upon arrival, the trunks were discovered to contain 231 gowns with a dutiable value of $29,574.30. Despite the scandal, Ellen O’Donovan’s business didn’t seem to outwardly suffer and she remained in business until 1920.
On August 17 1920, Ellen, now twice widowed, was touring the West with her sister and two cousins. They were staying at the Davenport Hotel in Spokane, Washington and planned to leave for Glacier National Park the next morning. Wanting some air before dinner, Ellen took a stroll on a third floor walkway over the glass roof of the lobby court. For no known reason, Ellen fell through the skylight into the lobby. She was carried to a couch where she uttered her last words “Where did I go?” She lost consciousness and died an hour later in her room.
For decades now, guests have reported seeing the spectre of a woman in 1920 period dress peering over the railing of the mezzanine in the lobby of the Davenport hotel – it must be Ellen O’Donovan, New York dressmaker.