Cape Cod journalists recall colleague and pal Barry Donahue

In reminiscence of Cape Cod photojournalist Barry Donahue, greater than a dozen former colleagues have despatched alongside their favourite recollections of his recommendation, admonishments, good instance, enthusiasm, mentoring, potential to place folks comfortable, journalistic requirements, information sense and extra.

He died Sept. 16, 2025, at age 71. He lived in Brewster.

Chase the solar and the tide

“I first met Barry in 2000 when he hired me as a photojournalist for The Cape Codder newspapers. I had just moved to Cape Cod. I struggled with finding feature photos. I asked Barry how he always came up with stunning and award-winning pictures. Chase the sun and the tide, he said. Always come to work knowing when the sun will set and where the tide is and the people will follow, he added! We chase the sun and the tide, he would always say. That advice helped me become a true Cape Cod photographer. Barry had a sixth sense for news as well. He was always there first and found the best angle.”

— Robert “Scott” Button

When the primary crocus unfurled

“Barry was more than an award-winning photographer. He was a Cape Cod shaman. He understood the ocean and winds, the lakes and the land. He divined the seasons and weather and was there when the first crocus unfurled its petals, or a moody fog enveloped a marina. He knew which hill kids would be sledding on after the first snowfall. He believed a newspaper should reflect the Cape and that meant showcasing the water whenever he could. It was his favorite place to be. His photography was thoughtful and inspired, never contrived, much like the man himself.”

— Stephanie Foster, colleague from his days at The Cape Codder

King of black and white pictures

“Barry was my mentor and, more importantly, my friend. He is the one who believed in me and gave me my first shot as a photographer at The Cape Codder newspaper. Barry was the king of black and white photos and the master of chasing the sun and the tides. He documented Cape Cod’s fishing community in images better than anyone. If you were lucky enough to be photographed by Barry, he would “make you a star” as he would say. He loved time on the water and rowing his wooden boats. He loved living in Brewster and calling those of us who lived across the border in Harwich hairleggers. Barry loved his family. He was so proud of his children and absolutely adored his grandchildren. Every email he sent me ended with the same words: “Still nothing better than being a grandfather.” I loved Barry and will miss him forever.”

— Merrily Cassidy, Cape Cod Times photographer by the use of The Cape Codder

His enthusiasm was contagious

“I will never forget my first assignment with Barry at The Cape Codder. I was brand new; I think it was my second day there. Someone had called to report a beached whale on the bayside in Brewster, and that was my town to cover, so away we went. Soon I was hiking over dunes, trying desperately to keep up with Barry, who was striding along with his camera bag and, of course, a camera slung over his neck. Every so often he’d turn around and say, “Come on!” I could see he was in his element. The sun was shining and a breeze was picking up — and the tide was coming in. Soon I was sloshing through ankle-deep salt water, and Barry was laughing. He waited for me to stop and roll my pants up to my knees, then we kept going. Suddenly he swung around and pointed his camera at me, much to my dismay. To tell the truth, I don’t even remember if we found the whale. I just remember how much fun it was, being out on the Brewster flats with Barry, chasing a story. And later, back at the newsroom, he emerged from the darkroom and handed me a black and white print of me hobbling through a tidal pool, holding my reporter’s notebook aloft. I still have that photo. There were lots more assignments with Barry, but I will never forget that first one. Barry loved being a photojournalist, and his enthusiasm was contagious. It was the best initiation I could have had, with the best photographer I ever got to work with.”

— Deb Boucher Stetson

A pleasant connection

“I knew Barry as a really nice guy. Could always count on him for a friendly connection. He will be missed.”

— Ron Schloerb, Cape Cod Times

A complete hoot to be round

“I met Barry Donahue at The Cape Codder newspaper in Orleans in the 1990s. The Cape Codder set a standard for community journalism, and much of that reputation was due to Barry’s photos. His images, especially of the local fishing industry, were renowned. He was also a cherished mentor to photographers under his wing, and a total hoot to be around. He will be missed.”

— Barbara Tierney

2025: Remembering Cape Cod photograph legend Barry Donahue: Photo Shoot

Not in the slightest degree apprehensive

“I had the pleasure of working with Barry at a few publications on the Cape, and it was always a delight . One of the most fun memories I have is when he photographed my daughter and me on a jetty in Brewster for a story I’d written about her adoption. He managed to make me forget about being terrified of slipping, made us both laugh, and as a result of his being so relaxed and happy, we looked completely delighted and not the least bit worried. He was the best.”

— Candace Hammond, former Cape Cod Times columnist and freelance options author  

Rigorous, inquisitive protection

“Barry was known for his Cape Cod photos of nature and wooden boats, but he was a serious journalist, dedicated to the proposition that this sublimely beautiful spit of sand deserved rigorous, inquisitive coverage that looked closely, poked and prodded, chronicled a place and helped people understand it. In the newsroom at The Cape Codder, where a series of editors from elsewhere relied on his deep knowledge and solid judgment, he was a spotter and nurturer of young talent, shaping reporters and photographers both. He was also a brilliant collaborator who believed that the job should be fun, and he made it that. Made it a blast, actually. He was curious always, dreaming up stories always about this place that he loved and chose. It pained and offended him to see local journalism withering on the Cape.”

— Laura Collins-Hughes, an arts journalist in New York

Be calm, assume, and get nearer

“Barry kept a print up in the cramped Cape Codder photography office. You would see it every time you walked out into the short corridor and into the world beyond. A funeral procession, cars dutifully turning toward the cemetery gates, a high school student had died. And gestures from one vehicle clearly showing disdain for Barry’s camera. He did not shy from the hard work and he taught me as a young photographer to do the same. For all of the fishermen and boats and ice cream smiles, Barry, smiling himself, knew the importance of news in whatever form it manifested, painful or pleasant, and tirelessly presented it for us. Thank you, Barry, for taking over that Mid-Cape wreckage scene on my second day. Thank you for sending me snipe hunting. Thanks for tossing me your scratched 35mm lens and telling me to be calm, think, and get closer.”

— Victor Salvo

‘Best rowing companion’

In my thoughts, he is on the market now

“I was a reporter at The Cape Codder in the ’90s when a Barry Donahue black and white photo, filling the entire front page of the Friday edition was an event, a frameable work of art that people talked about, more than they did the news inside. He wasn’t born here, but he knew more about the Cape than most locals. Accompanying the tall guy with the crew cut, glasses, a big smile and a camera gave a reporter credibility and trust with everyone from the man in the street, to fishermen and police chiefs. 

The last time I saw Barry he was rowing on his beloved Sheep Pond where he had a house and where he initiated his children and grandchildren into his world of water. ‘The Cape is surrounded by water,’ he’d tell reporters, and the newspaper should reflect that. On Sunday mornings, he could be found rowing with friends, worshipping in ‘the Church of Pleasant Bay.’ In my mind, he’s out there now, in his Whitehall rowboat, telling me that this was once the chosen vessel of newspaper reporters working in coastal towns and cities.”    

— Doug Fraser

‘It’s a poor workman that blames his instruments’

“I worked with Barry at the Cape Codder through most of the 1990s till he departed for the Cape Cod Voice and then when he returned again around 2007. I was the sports editor in the ’90s and shot most of my own photos. We used high-speed black and white film developed in a darkroom that you entered through a revolving black door. We studied contact sheets through a magnifying loupe to choose photos for the paper, and then Barry or an assistant would make a full-sized print that was needed for the layout. He was a professional photographer and I was a former landscaper with a used Nikon camera and two lenses I’d bought. He’d mock my ‘armpit shots’ of basketball players or fuzzy action shots. When I’d argue that my manual-focus, flashbulb-lacking and shorter-lens camera prevented me from getting the pristine sports shots Barry got, he’d tell me: ‘It’s a poor workman that blames his tools.’ I noticed his portraits of people for features always set them in their environment, beautifully conveying not just their personality but work and avocation as opposed to my police lineup approach so I tried to make my group shots more interesting and have people do more than just smile at the camera. I remember he made great use of wide angle lenses to both bring people closer to the camera and show more background.

Whatever knowledge I brought to my news and sports photos was due to the advice and example set by Barry and John Schram, who operated the darkroom at the Oracle  when I worked there and again at the Codder for several years. And Barry was maybe the most professional journalist at the Codder — dedicated to accurately telling a story and making the paper an invaluable resource. He had a good sense of humor, was a gardener so I could share plants with him and he seemed to know everyone and served as a link to older newspaper days even though he wasn’t any older than I was. I didn’t get to see him much once I started working from home and then retired but I ran into him buying a pizza in Harwich just a couple months ago and it was great to talk briefly recalling old times and reflect on changes in our business. He was spry and positive and enjoying life in semi-retirement.  I’ll miss him. He was one of the more important people I knew over my 37 years as a newsman.”

— Rich Eldred

A mutual apathy for Worcester

“When I started working at The Cape Codder in 1997, Barry and I bonded over our mutual apathy for the city of Worcester. He grew up on Vernon Hill while my family was in the West Tatnuck area, which he jokingly referred to as the ‘two-toilet Irish’ part of the city. Barry’s photographic skills were already well established when I arrived, but I soon realized that his work was synonymous with the iconic photos of nature and local characters that graced the cover of the paper twice a week. It seemed like he knew everyone, and it was easy to see why — because of his easygoing nature that allowed him to establish a connection with those he met on a daily basis while covering the Lower Cape.”

— Paul O’Neill

‘Shake the sand out of its pages’

“This past weekend in a New Hampshire gift shop I saw a magnet that said, ‘The universe is made of stories, not atoms.’ It made me think of Barry. (I bought the magnet.)

To share one memory that captures many isn’t my forte — that was his. Barry was able to capture universal truths, the stuff of good stories, in the blink of an eye, the click of a shutter. 

This is just one memory of many I have of working with Barry — on a series for The Cape Codder called ‘Voices of the Bay.’ Barry loved Pleasant Bay and was all over the assignment. I think this was 1997, the year Barry was awarded ‘Photojournalist of the Year’ by the New England Press Association. Barry and I went to a nursing home to interview Charlotte Kent, who’d sold Kent’s Point to the town of Orleans. A caregiver wheeled Miss Kent into a sitting room. On her lap, she held photo albums filled with sepia-toned images. Miss Kent’s mind wandered often and she was confused about who we were. The nurse occasionally tapped the photo album, reminding Miss Kent of what we were doing. Barry, in his affable way, kept the conversation going, kept us laughing and my frustration at bay, as we tried to evoke memories from Miss Kent.

‘Is there any way we could get Miss Kent out to the point for our next interview?’ Barry suddenly asked. The nurse, whose fondness for the old woman was obvious, said, ‘I can do that.’

Driven by her nurse-turned chauffeur, Miss Kent arrived at the bit of land jutting into Little Pleasant Bay. The fragile old woman who’d needed a wheelchair, who’d fought to remember who she was from one minute to the next, was gone. Out stepped a different person, using her walker to point out trees she’d planted to shield the house from hurricanes, at the catboat mast they’d used as a stair rail in the house, the spatter-painted floors that she and her sister had done. We sat, listening to memory after memory. Barry had known just how to find the story.

Barry understood the power of place and how to, as he liked to say, let folks reading the paper ‘shake the sand out of its pages.’ Like atoms do for the universe, stories are the building blocks that keep our histories and memories alive. Barry taught me that.”

— Susanna Graham-Pye

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