The Death Of A Native Son

In 1989, Dorris published "The Broken Cord," and won his own National Book Critics Circle Award for his account of his struggle with his adopted son Abel, who was afflicted with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome--birth defects brought on by drinking during pregnancy. The condition was little known when Dorris adopted the 3-year-old boy in 1971. Indeed, it was not until he published his book that FAS became the public cause it is today. Three years later, teaching at Dartmouth, where he started the Native American Studies program, Dorris adopted Jeffrey, then Madeline, both of whom he suspected of suffering from Fetal Alcohol Effect, a milder form of the affliction. (Louise and Michael later had three girls of their own.)

Abel eventually needed constant supervision. Jeffrey and Madeline moved through a series of institutions; Jeffrey spent time in jail. In a series of messy court cases beginning in 1994, Jeffrey was unsuccessfully prosecuted after he threatened Dorris and Erdrich with physical harm and demanded $15,000. "Michael came in with a great deal of idealism," says his friend, the psychologist and novelist Jonathan Kellerman, "and it all went to hell. He became very angry. Michael was from the liberal mentality that you can always change things, and unfortunately we know that there are things that are hardwired and can't be changed."

"The Broken Cord" became an acclaimed made-for-TV movie in 1992. "The Crown of Columbus," a novel the couple wrote together, and for which they received a $1.5 million advance, was panned and sold disappointingly. But the couple continued to champion their idea of literary partnership--finishing each other's sentences on and off the page. "I didn't think a marriage that intertwined could last," said Robb Dew. "It was as if there was no air." At the same time, the family suffered a series of devastating calamities. Abel was hit by a car and died. Two years later the court battles began with Jeffrey, who had been threatening them with violence since 1989. They took the threats seriously, leaving Dartmouth and moving in secret to Montana, and later to Minneapolis.

Last year Erdrich moved out, to a house six blocks away, and the couple shared custody of the three younger children. Dorris told friends that Erdrich wanted to be independent, but the move depressed him even further. "I do not think he slept in the last year of his life," Erdrich said last week. But to the end, says Sandi Campbell, the couple's assistant, "this man was totally in love with this woman." According to Harjo, "She left a nightgown hanging on a hook in the bedroom. Michael said he didn't have the heart to remove it. It was a symbol she was coming back."

On March 29, Douglas Foster, calling from California, reached Dorris at his Cornish, N.H., cottage, where he'd stopped while on a book tour for his new novel. Dorris admitted he was attempting suicide. Foster called the police, who got to Dorris in time to revive him. On Thursday, April 10, he checked out of a Vermont rehab center on a one-day pass. After renting a car, purchasing three bottles of Nytol, a bottle of vodka and some tapioca pudding, he checked into the Brick Tower Motor Inn in Concord, N.H., under a phony name and hung a DO NOT DISTURB sign on the door of room 40. The only thing he had left in him to write was a suicide note. He apologized for the inconvenience, proclaimed his love for his family and said, in closing, "[I] will be peaceful at last."

RAY SAWHILL, ALAN ZAREMBO, T. TRENT GEGAX AND CLAUDIA KALB

© 1997