Shannen Doherty, known for her roles on the wildly popular series “Beverly Hills, 90210” and on the witchcraft fantasy “Charmed,” has died after being diagnosed with breast cancer in 2015. She was 53.
“It is with a heavy heart that I confirm the passing of actress, Shannen Doherty,” Doherty’s publicist Leslie Sloane said in a statement. “On Saturday, July 13, she lost her battle with cancer after many years of fighting the disease. The devoted daughter, sister, aunt and friend was surrounded by her loved ones as well as her dog, Bowie. The family asks for their privacy at this time so they can grieve in peace.”
Doherty rose to fame in 1990 as the fresh-faced brunette Brenda Walsh on Fox’s “Beverly Hills, 90210.” Along with her twin brother Brandon, played by Jason Priestly, the Walshes were the classic fish-out-of-water family that had recently moved from Minnesota to Beverly Hills and were constantly amazed at the antics of the L.A. rich kids.
The romance between Brenda and Dylan, played by Luke Perry, spawned controversy in the first season for the storyline where Brenda considers losing her virginity. Their later breakup, when Dylan hooked up with her best friend Kelly, played by Jennie Garth, was also big news, and the show was considered groundbreaking in its willingness to address topics like drug abuse and racism.
The show was a massive hit, and with its success came an inordinate amount of scrutiny and gossip surrounding the cast, including teen-aged Doherty. Though the show had started out with Garth’s Kelly as the less likable character, the perception soon changed and Brenda become the cast member everyone loved to hate on. She was labeled a diva in the press and there was even a pre-internet newsletter called “I Hate Brenda.” Doherty appeared in 111 episodes before leaving the series at the end of season four, amid reports of friction with other cast members, particularly Garth.
By the time the show was rebooted two more times, everyone had mellowed with age and Doherty returned as Brenda in the 2008 revival “90210” for one season and in the later revival 2019 “BH90210.”
After her stormy departure from “Beverly Hills, 90210,” Doherty found her footing on “Charmed,” the supernatural drama following three sisters who discover they are witches and must work together to fight evil. She played the oldest of the three sisters, Prue Halliwell, alongside Alyssa Milano and Holly Marie Combs. In 2000 and 2001, she directed three episodes of the series — “Be Careful What You Witch For,” “The Good, The Bad, and The Cursed,” and “All Hell Breaks Loose,” the last episode she appeared in. Her character was killed off when she left the series at the end of the third season.
Born in Memphis, Tenn., Doherty moved to Los Angeles with her family as a child and got her start at age 10 with a role on the series “Father Murphy.” Michael Landon saw her in the series and cast her as Jenny Wilder in “Little House on the Prairie” at age 11.
Doherty then had a recurring role on the family series “Our House” with Wilfred Brimley,
In feature films, she appeared in another teen classic, “Heathers,” as well as in “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” and Kevin Smith’s “Mallrats” and “Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back.”
Among the other shows she appeared on were “North Shore,” and “Riverdale” as well as in a number of TV movies.
In 2006, she produced a reality show, “Breaking Up With Shannen Doherty,” where she helped people in relationship peril who wanted to get out but couldn’t do it on their own, and later appeared in another reality show, “Off the Map With Shannen and Holly.”
Doherty was diagnosed with breast cancer in February 2015, and in 2017 said she was in remission. But by 2019 the cancer had returned and spread. She continued working, with roles in TV movies including “Dying to Belong” and “List of a Lifetime.” Doherty also hosted a popular podcast, “Let’s Be Clear With Shannen Doherty,” in which she discussed her career and talked frankly about how breast cancer had impacted her life.
In June 2023, she said she had been receiving radiation for cancer that had spread to her brain.
She was briefly married to George Hamilton’s son Ashley Hamilton and poker player Rick Salomon, and in 2011 she married photographer Kurt Iswarienko. They filed for divorce in 2023.
My Neighbors Left a Note That Shattered My Heart — My Granddaughter Discovered It and Gave Them a Learning Experience
The music I played on my piano was my last link to my late husband. But cruel neighbors shattered that joy with a hurtful message on my wall. When my granddaughter found out, she made things right, leaving those entitled neighbors scratching their heads.
“Oh, Jerry, did you love it today, darling?” I asked softly, the last notes of “Clair de Lune” filling my cozy living room as my fingers lifted from the ivory piano keys. My eyes fixed on the framed photo of my late husband, Jerry. His kind eyes seemed to twinkle back at me, just as they had for over fifty years of our marriage…
Willie, my tabby cat, stretched lazily near my feet, purring contentedly. I reached down to scratch behind his ears, feeling the familiar ache in my chest as I carefully lifted Jerry’s photo.
“I miss you so much, darling. It’s been five years, but sometimes… sometimes it feels like yesterday.”
Pressing a gentle kiss to the cool glass, I whispered, “Time for dinner, my love. I’ll play your favorite before bed, okay? ‘Moon River,’ just like always.”
As I set the frame back down, I could almost hear Jerry’s warm chuckle. “You spoil me, Bessie,” he’d say, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
I shuffled towards the kitchen, pausing to look back at the piano, my constant companion these past 72 years.
“What would I do without you?” I murmured, running my hand along its polished surface.
That night, as I lay in bed, I whispered into the darkness, “Goodnight, Jerry. I’ll see you in my dreams.”
The next morning, I was lost in Chopin’s “Nocturne in E-flat major” when a sharp rap on my window startled me. My fingers stumbled, the music cutting off abruptly.
A red-faced man glared at me through the glass. He was my new neighbor.
“Hey, lady!” he shouted, his voice muffled. “Cut out that racket! You’re keeping the whole neighborhood awake with your pathetic plinking!”
I stared at him, shocked. “I… I’m so sorry,” I stammered, even as a small voice in my head protested. It was barely 11 a.m., and none of my other neighbors had ever complained before.
The man stomped away, leaving me trembling. I closed the lid of the piano, my sanctuary suddenly feeling tainted.
The next day, I closed all the windows before sitting down to play. The music felt muffled and constrained, but I hoped it would keep the peace.
I was barely ten minutes into Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” when my doorbell rang insistently. With a heavy heart, I answered it.
A woman with pinched features glared at me. “Listen here, old lady,” she spat. “The grave’s calling, and you’re still banging on that piano? Cut the noise, or I’ll report you to the HOA!”
It was only then that I understood she was my new neighbor’s wife.
I felt like I’d been slapped. “I… I closed all the windows,” I said weakly.
“Well, it’s not enough!” she snapped, turning on her heel. “Quit making noise with your stupid piano!”
I slumped against the door frame, tears welling in my eyes. “Oh, Jerry,” I whispered. “What do I do?”
I could almost hear his voice, gentle but firm. “You play, Bessie. You play your heart out. Don’t stop… for anyone.”
But as I sat at the piano, my fingers hovering over the keys, I couldn’t bring myself to press down.
Days passed, and I tried everything. I taped cardboard over the windows, played only in short bursts, even considered moving the piano to the basement where it might not be heard.
But nothing seemed to satisfy my new neighbors, the Grinches, as I’d started calling them in my head.
The thought of being separated from my cherished instrument, even by a flight of stairs, made my heart ache. This piano wasn’t just an object; it was an extension of my soul, a living connection to Jerry and our life together.
Forgetting about those bothersome neighbors for a moment, I lost myself in the music as I played the piano that night.
The next morning, I stepped outside to tend to my small herb garden. The sight that greeted me stopped me cold.
The cruel words “SHUT UP!” were spray-painted across the wall in angry red letters.
I sank to my knees and wept. “Jerry, I can’t do this anymore.”
That day, for the first time in decades, I didn’t touch my piano.
As night fell, I sat in Jerry’s armchair, clutching his photo. “I’m so sorry, my love. I just don’t have the strength to fight anymore.”
The shrill ring of the telephone startled me from my thoughts. I fumbled for the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Mom? It’s me,” my son Jacob’s warm voice filled the line. “How are you doing?”
I swallowed hard, fighting back tears. “Oh, I’m fine, sweetie. Just a quiet day at home.”
There was a pause. “Mom, you don’t sound fine. Is everything alright?”
I sighed, debating whether to burden him with my troubles. “It’s nothing, really. Just… some issues with the new neighbors.”
“Issues? What kind of issues?”
I found myself spilling everything… the complaints, the threats, the vandalism.
“I don’t know what to do anymore, honey. I feel so… lost.”
“Oh, Mom, why didn’t you tell me sooner? We could have helped.”
“I didn’t want to worry you. You have your own life, your own problems.”
“Mom, you’re never a burden. Never. Your music has brought joy to so many people over the years. Remember all those Christmas parties? The school recitals you played for? You’re not a nuisance… you’re a treasure.”
“Listen, I’m going to call Melissa. She’s closer. Maybe she can come check on you. And we’ll figure this out together, okay?” Jacob finished.
As I hung up the phone, I felt a small flicker of hope. Maybe I wasn’t alone in this after all.
Days crawled by. My piano sat untouched, gathering dust. I felt like a part of me was withering away.
One evening, a loud knock startled me from my melancholy. I opened the door to find my granddaughter Melissa standing there, her face glowing with a warm smile.
“Surprise, Nana!” she exclaimed, enveloping me in a tight hug.
As she pulled back, her eyes widened in horror. “Nana, who did this to your wall?”
I burst into tears, the whole story spilling out between sobs. Melissa’s expression darkened with each word.
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