Sebastian,
I have a copy of it. I'll look it up and email it to you.
There are a number of factual errors in it caused by his relying on accounts of only one of Tilly's 7 (at the time) living grand-children. The picture of Tilly the man was completely changed for me when I interviewed the then 4 living grand-children in 2002-3.
For many years they hadn't spoken about him with each other and actually never realized how different their perceptions were of him as a man.
For example, here is a single quote from each:
"There is no great genius without some touch of madness." Seneca ca. 50 A.D. via Philip W. Brown Jr., M. D. Dr. Brown then said, “Yes, Dadgan had some of Seneca’s madness in him, but that made him all the more colorful and attractive to outsiders. Fortunately his creative genius outlived the madness…” Dr. Brown is his grandson.
“Always remember that Tilly was a brutal man.” Pamela Ytterberg, granddaughter and Dr. Brown's sister, quoting her mother, Mrs. Brown.
“I felt like a 3 year-old flower girl… He was always an enchanted person for me.” Frances Estes. Frances is his granddaughter and sister to Pamela and Dr. Brown.
This last is an anecdotal story told to me by Barbara Manny, Tilly's granddaughter and cousin to Dr. Brown, Pamela and Frances. Barbara was closer to him than any of the other grandchildren. She lived in the house directly behind his in Harrington Park and spent many hours at his side while he worked in his basement office and even went with him to several construction sites, including Bethpage.
Here it is in it's entirety:
Of all the anecdotal stories about Tillinghast, there is one that will tear at the heartstrings of even the most callous man, and it involves young Barbara and antiques.
On the way to one of these auctions, Barbara announced that she was going to bid on and buy something that day. Her “Genga” told her that it costs a lot of money to do that, and asked her if she had brought any with her.
A quick, bright smile lit up her face as she reached into her pocket and
showed him the quarter that she had brought for the occasion. Her smile melted him as no other and when they arrived, they walked around examining the items for sale.
As they strolled together Barbara studied the items with the eyes of a veteran treasure hunter, determined to find a piece that would make Genga proud. Her feet stopped as her eyes riveted themselves on a small item. She stood there staring at a ceramic figurine, a boy in old-fashioned Victorian dress. He was holding a puppy tenderly in his hand while another full-grown dog, with its front legs pressed up against him, strained to get the cookie from his hand. Enchanted by it, her heart taken in by its beauty and wonder, she pronounced that she would buy it.
Well, Tilly was well-known to all present and especially by the auctioneers. When Barbara’s piece came out to bid, somehow and miraculously, Barbara’s twenty-five cent bid was accepted, and with great pride she stepped forth to claim her treasure. Looking back now over the long years since, Barbara appreciates that Genga made some arrangement with everyone present so she would win and tells it with a tear at the corner of her still stunning blue eyes with which she gazes on the figurine to this day.
Hannigan's article did much to restore the reputation of the forgotten Tillinghast; it also did much to misrepresent him as a man.