Searching for people who knew Dottye

A mother who died too young

Do  You Remember Dottye?                  

 Dottye Robertson Moore.

 Dottye passed away on July 17th 1973 in Columbus, Ohio in a car accident at the young age of 24.

 Dottye had a passion for music and good times and often traveled from Arizona or Ohio to Las Vegas.

 Dottye started Waylon Jennings first fan club when she was still a teenager living in Arizona.

 I would love to learn more about her whether it be in memories or photos that you might have to share. Please email me at: or call 972-415-1698

Below is my video tribute: HNiG76Osi7A



 And please pass my link along to others.

Please continue to read about my search for truth at My blog on my continue search for truth

 Please click here to see the Fox 5 Vegas news footage of my visit to Las Vegas in June 2011


 Click here to see the July 17th 2011 article in the Columbus Dispatch newspaper about my search

So to Speak | Joe Blundo commentary: Daughter unraveling mysteries of mother

family photo

Dottye Robertson Moore

The mother of Wendy Barkett comes to her in bits of information.

She liked Mexican food. She walked with her toes turned in. She ran a Waylon Jennings fan club.

It has taken Barkett two decades to fashion a fragmented portrait of Dottye Robertson Moore. She has had even less luck identifying her father.

Barkett, who lives in Fort Worth, Texas, has traveled many miles in search of them.

"I don't work," the 39-year-old said. "This is what I do all day."

Dottye Moore was 24 and living in Whitehall when she died in a car accident at Morse and Stelzer roads on July 17, 1973. She had done a lot of living.

"I know she was wild," Barkett said.

Dottye, who was adopted as an infant, grew up in Arizona. She became pregnant twice in her teens and gave both children up for adoption. She later met a man from Columbus, married him and had a daughter. For murky reasons, Dottye left the family briefly to go to Las Vegas in 1971.

She returned home pregnant with Wendy. After the baby was born, Dottye put her, too, up for adoption. A little more than a year later, Dottye was dead.

Barkett, raised by her adoptive parents in Twinsburg, Ohio, said she was always obsessed with the identity of her birth mother.

"I started sneaking through my parents' filing cabinet when I was really young - 8 or 10 years old."

At 18, she began searching in earnest. Because she was adopted, much information was closed to her.

After 14 years, the day finally came when she learned her mother's name and the devastating fact that she was dead. On the same day, she also learned that she has a half sister, Karen Robinson, who lives in Gahanna.

Robinson, 43, said she got a call one Friday night from a woman identifying herself as a sister.

"I said, 'Can I take some time to absorb this for a little while?' She said: 'I've been looking for you my whole life. Take as much time as you need.'"

The two have become close.

Robinson, who was 5 when Dottye died, has given Barkett a fuller picture of their mother.

"I have cassette tapes of her trying to make me say my ABCs, teaching me to color inside the lines," Robinson said. "I was important to her, and I know that."

Robinson knows that it's painful for Barkett to have none of those memories. So she doesn't judge her for her dogged quest.

Through sheer persistence, Barkett has learned that her father was from Boston and worked as a keno writer in Las Vegas in 1971.

She has a touching website ( dedicated to her search.

Her hope is that, somewhere in central Ohio, someone remembers something about a pretty young woman who led a tumultuous life and died too young. For Barkett, no bit of information is too small.

Joe Blundo is a Dispatch columnist.


I'm proud to add a link to a book of poetry that I had published. I do hope that you will get a better glimpse into my soul as I wrote while dealing with my search, struggles, and finding Dottye at a grave. Should you chose to, pass the link around, I would really appreciate it. I hope that someday my book of poetry : Shadows of a Dark-Alley Adoptee might fall into the hands of someone who knew Dottye or who my birth father was.Shadows of a Dark-Alley Adoptee

 Franklin County Probate Court stingy with adoption records 7/6/2014Dispatch News Article Link Here


 By the time she learned the identity of her birth mother, it was too late. Wendy Barkett would not be able to ask any questions or savor even a single answer.

The troubled young woman who gave birth to Barkett in 1972 — Dottye Moore of Whitehall — had died the following year in a car crash on the Northeast Side.

“That basically sucked, yeah,” Barkett, who now lives in Texas, said. “It wasn’t just the death of her. It was the death of the search.”

The 42-year-old adoptee figures she has one more shot at finding her birth father, but the Franklin County Probate Court refuses to release the information Barkett wants — information that advocates say she is legally entitled to.

In a letter sent to Barkett last month, the court cited Ohio law and denied her request for the name of the agency or provider that arranged her adoption.

But other county probate courts often provide agency names to adoptees, said Betsie Norris of Adoption Network Cleveland. And a local attorney says there’s nothing in state law or administrative code that precludes the release, no matter whether the adoption was open or, like Barkett’s, closed.

“I don’t know why it would be an issue,” Norris said. “I’ve worked with thousands of people, and I’ve rarely seen people hit this kind of roadblock.”

Barkett isn’t the only adoptee stymied by the Franklin County court.

Westerville resident Abbey Baer petitioned the court for access to her original birth certificate after learning this year that a genetic mutation had caused her to develop breast cancer at the unusually early age of 24.

“I need to give my birth parents this information,” Baer, now 32, said. The information could be critical for them, their other children or grandchildren.

A new law that takes effect next spring could give Baer access to her original birth certificate, and the court told her in a letter that nothing can be done until then. But that isn’t true, advocates say.

A court has the authority to open a file or provide information whenever it chooses.

“I’ve seen them do that, particularly for medical reasons,” Norris said.

William Reddington, the administrative magistrate in Franklin County Probate Court, said the court does not take an expansive view of access laws.

“As a rule, we do tend to read this very narrowly,” he said.

Reddington acknowledged that a file could be opened but said that such an action is rare.

He also agreed, after being asked to view the court’s adoption-records section online, that incorrect information was posted. The website indicates that birth records are available to Ohioans adopted between 1964 and 1996; in fact, those records are closed.

Ohio has three tiers of access because of changes to law over the years. Original birth certificates are available in pre-1964 adoptions, closed after 1964, and then available for adoptions after Sept. 18, 1996, unless the birth parent asked not to be identified. The new law taking effect next year will allow 1964-1996 adoptees — an estimated 400,000 people — access to their original birth certificates so long as the birth parent doesn’t file a nondisclosure request.

Baer might be able to find her birth parents then. Barkett’s situation probably wouldn’t change.

The basic vital statistics available through the law wouldn’t include the adoption-agency or provider name. That information, if it exists, rests with the court.

“I had thought, when I was originally getting in tune with all this and writing to legislators, that with the new law we would be getting our adoption files,” Barkett said.

Sara Knight, a Franklin County adoptee who lives in Oakland, Calif., said she fought with the court for years to get her file, even though she had signed releases from both her adoptive and birth mothers.

“It caused so much needless pain,” she said.

If Barkett had been adopted from a different county, she might have a better chance.

Cuyahoga County probate officials routinely release the adoption-agency names because such information is considered “non-identifying,” said the court’s Melissa Cummings.

“Everyone’s entitled to their agency,” she said.

Heather Grise, a local family-law attorney, said adoption-agency and provider names are not included in the personal “identifying” information spelled out in state law.

Barkett said it’s difficult, if not impossible, to stop wondering and searching.

“Up until 10 years ago, the thought was, ‘I find my birth mother, I make her tell me who my birth father was,’  ” she said. “It never occurred to me that I’d still be doing this. I thought I’d have the answer.” 

 On March 20th 2015 I was honored to receive my OBC. I was actually the first person of 4 to be called up. I was nervous as well as excited, and then nervous again.

My fathers name is not listed on my OBC, but I continue to hope to some day find him or his family.

Below is a video:



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