By the 1950s, Harold Gillies was a highly regarded surgeon. Known as the father of plastic surgery, his groundbreaking techniques in facial and genital reconstruction changed the lives of soldiers who suffered catastrophic injuries during the First World War. Another achievement included inventing the Gillies Fine Hook, a surgical tool which holds flaps of skin in place to allow for precision. This tool is still in use today and is held in Thackray Museum’s archives.
Enter Michael Dillon.
Dillon was an introspective intellectual with a passionate streak. Assigned female at birth and born to a family of minor aristocracy, Dillon later studied at Oxford, where he was a successful rower. Here, he thrived in his studies and wondered if his lifelong unease in his body might have been because he was a gay woman. He fell “madly into calf-love” with a female friend at his college, only to be rejected. Soon after, Dillon decided to live as a man and pursued medical training at Trinity College Dublin.
After undergoing a mastectomy in the early 1940s, Dillon was put in touch with Gillies. Together, they utilised their medical knowledge to devise a series of surgeries that would allow him to transition via phalloplasty.
Elsewhere, Roberta Cowell, was reading Dillon’s groundbreaking book, Self, a scientific-philosophical work which considered homosexuality and gender identity. Born in Croydon, Cowell studied engineering at University College London before becoming a Spitfire pilot in WWII, even spending a period at Stalag Luft I, a German POW camp, when she crashed a plane near the Rhine River. Cowell’s elegant blonde looks belied a swashbuckling personality. She was known as a sharp and witty thrillseeker.
Still living as Robert, Cowell wrote to Dillon asking for help in finding doctors to facilitate her transition. During their first meeting, which Cowell said ‘will be crystal clear in my memory for the rest of my life’, Dillon immediately confided in her that he was also transgender. He contacted Gillies on her behalf, and arranged the details of her surgeries. Cowell even persuaded him to perform one procedure while he was still completing his studies at Trinity College. Known as inguinal orchiectomy, or the removal of the testicles, this allowed Cowell to present as intersex to her gynaecologist and have her birth certificate changed to list her sex as female.
This operation was the catalyst for Gillies to complete Cowell’s transition. Before this operation, Gillies was hesitant to perform what legally amounted to the castration of a healthy male, which was a criminal offence at the time. Dillon’s procedure enabled Gillies to operate at less personal and professional risk. In 1951, Gilles completed work on Britain’s first surgically created vagina for Cowell.
The connection between Dillon and Cowell was much deeper than a medical partnership. The details of their relationship are ambiguous, but there was clearly a profoundly affectionate bond between them. Dillon’s surviving letters to Cowell are filled with declarations of love, as he describes buying her an engagement ring and setting up their marital home. Cowell, however, stated in her memoirs that they never had any romantic connection. Her correspondence with Dillon petered out in the 1950s, and none of Roberta’s letters to Dillon survive today.
Both went on to lead storied lives. Cowell made headlines after selling the story of her transition to a magazine, Picture Post, in 1954 and was much photographed thanks to her good looks. Notably, she muddied any medical details, neglecting to mention Gillies or Dillon. She described herself as intersex and claimed that her body began to transition ‘naturally’. She worked as a racecar driver, engineer and clothing designer but sadly died in destitution in 1972, while working on the second volume of her memoirs.
After qualifying as a doctor, Dillon delved into a spiritual journey. He travelled to India, where he became a Buddhist monk, changed his name to Lobzang Jivaka and wrote his memoirs. He died abruptly aged 47 in 1962.
Gillies is in many ways a supporting character in this extraordinary story of two pioneering personalities. But without the revolutionary work of Harold Gillies, and one unassuming little hook, some of the first gender-affirming surgeries on record wouldn’t have been able to take place, paving the way for lifesaving operations for many.
As gender affirming care continues to ignite debate, Gillies’ reflections on his legacy feel especially valuable. On his work for Cowell and Dillon, he remarked: “If it gives real happiness, that is the most that any surgeon or medicine can give.”
Amy Kitchingman is one of a team of voluntary researchers who are uncovering hidden histories within the Thackray Museum stores and archives. She is completing an MA in Art Gallery and Museum Studies at the University of Leeds.