Photoplay (Jan-Jun 1963)

“Sorry,” said the Vegas club owner. “There’s no job for you here.” “But you said last week. . . “That was last week. This week we’ve decided to hold over the combo we got.'” “But . . “Look, fellas. Look, girlie. I tell you what I’m gonna do. Here’s the name of a club in LA. I know the owner. He’s my best friend. I know lie’s looking for a nice clean-cut group like you. So just tell him I sent you, and you’re sure to get a job. Now get goin’, will you?” And the following mid-morning, when they arrived in Los Angeles after another overnight drive, the treatment they got was exactly the same. “Sorry.” “But . . .” “Look. This crackpot in Vegas? I barely know him. He sends you here for a job? He’s a nut, that’s what he is. Look at my place, will you? It’s two by four; it’s nothing. The only music I want comes from that juke-box over there in the corner. I’ll stake you kids to a cup of coffee. You’re too young for anything stronger. But then, please, leave me alone and go find yourselves a job someplace else.” Remembers one of the troupe: “We found an agent that same day and he said, ‘Call me and I’ll try to find you a job.’ So every day we called him at 11 A.M. and at 5:30 P.M. This went on for about two weeks and we still didn’t have a job. Meanwhile, we had about five dollars left between us. It was hardest on Ann-Margret because she had to have a room by herself, being the only girl, and she had to pay the most money. We got so discouraged that we started going in and out of agents’ offices ourselves. We didn’t know anyone, but just looked in the phone book for the names of agencies. And, finally, through one of our contacts, we got our first job in Newport Beach, at the Villa Marina. They hired us for one week, but liked us so much they kept us for three. This was a real good break for all of us. And, as it turned out, it was a sensational break for Ann-Margret.” Her pay at the Villa Marina, first of all, was $139 a week — more than she’d ever earned before. Then there were the celebrities, the people with contacts, who dropped by the club for a drink or dinner and who remained to listen to the little gal from Illinois sing, song after song, hour after hour. Among the admirers were TV producer Don Sharp, the Edgar Bergens, the Henry Mancinis, and Ward Bond. Good luck charm Following the three-week stint at the Villa Marina, Ann-Margret and the boys were immediately booked by the manager of the club at the Commercial Hotel in Elko, Nevada (two weeks). From there it was the Riverside Hotel in Reno (booked for two weeks, they stayed six). And then, less than four months after they’d practically been kicked out of town, an offer — a genuine offer this time — came from Las Vegas, and the Dunes Hotel. Ann-Margret and the boys opened in a small room off the lounge and casino. But there was nothing small about the P reception they got that opening night. “Mamma . . . Daddy,” she said over the long-distance phone that night. “A fellow <74 named Bobby Roberts was in the audience and he asked if he could be my manager. Me! I’ve got a manager now . . .” Then: “What? Oh, what did I wear? Oh my gosh, I didn’t even think much about that. In Elko I bought an orange sweater that was on sale, for five dollars. And I have my old black capris. And so that’s what I wore. Yes, very simple. And kind of shabby maybe, too, huh? But nobody seemed to mind. Honest. They just listened and then clapped and asked for more . . . and oh Mamma, oh Daddy, I’m sooooo excited.” “I’m so excited!” Bobby Roberts turned out to be a good new manager for Ann-Margret. And the black capris and five-dollar sweater a good new charm. A few weeks later, back in Los Angeles, Roberts took his client for an audition with George Burns, who was preparing to open soon at the Hotel Sahara in Las Vegas. “I like that pants and sweater combination, Miss,” the cigar-chomping Burns said to Ann-Margret when they met. “If you sing like you look — you’re okay.” With Scott Smith accompanying her on the piano, Ann-Margret sang “Bill Bailey,” “Misty” and “Mack the Knife.” Says someone who was there: “It was amazing. This sweet little thing with the long hair — I thought she was crazy to pick those songs when she started. But once she started, wow — the sweet young thing turned into a gorgeous animal, and you’ve never seen such sex. When she sang she wiggled everything from her toes on up.” Said George Burns, immediately after he’d heard tbe set, even taking the cigar out of his mouth for the occasion: “Miss? Do you want to work for me?” “Yes,” said Ann-Margret. “Great.” Then: “Miss — or what’s that long name of yours again?” “Ann-Margret,” she said. “Ann-Margret, before you came in here today, I had this whole show of mine set. I need a girl singer like I need a pack of cigarettes. But you have an unusual style, Miss Ann-Margret. Very unusual. And right during tbat first song of yours I decided to make room in the act for you. “Now,” and he put the cigar back into his mouth and let out with a long puff, “how’s that for show business?” “I will never forget it,” Ann-Margret says. “We opened on December 23, 1960. And what a night that was. I sang my three songs — it was the first time I’d sung solo in such a big room as the Congo Room. And then Mr. Burns and I did a little soft shoe dance, which he calls a sand dance; he has sand in his pockets and he spreads WHO AM I? (Answers to quiz on pages 62 and 63) 1. Jennifer Jones 2. Jack Oakie 3. Rita Hayworth 4. Donald O’Connor 5. Jack Benny 6. Mona Freeman 7. Fred MacMurray 8. Bill Holden 9. Judy Garland 10. Gregory Peck 11. Yvonne De Carlo 12. William Powell it around and gives some to me and I spread it around and so on. Oh, I got so many telegrams from my friends in Wilmette that night. And beautiful flowers from my cousin Anne and her roommate Nancy. The only disappointment was that my parents could not be there. But when I phoned them and told them I had worn my old capris and orange sweater, still, just for good luck— that the pants were so shiny by this time and that I had to sew them in four places, they just laughed. Of course, two nights after we opened it was Christmas and I was so lonely for my folks. I pretended I would ignore it was Christmas, except for my prayers in the morning. But that night when I went back to my room after tbe show, I could see that my door was open and that there was a little Christmas tree on my bureau witli tiny ornaments and tinsel beside it. Scott Smith had put it there. And it made me feel so good. And I said to myself, ‘Yes, it is Christmas, it is.’ This was, in a way, the nicest present I had ever received. The next nicest came a few days later when I received word from Mr. Bob Goldstein of 20th Century-Fox Studios in Hollywood that I was wanted there for a screen test. The test was set for Friday the thirteenth of January. And I was very nervous — for reasons more than just the date. . . .” Their eyes popped Ann-Margret arrived at the studio at exactly 6:25 that morning. She was five minutes early — and just as well. Because that gave her five extra minutes to relax before the most exacting and grueling day of her life got under way. Which it did at 6:30 promptly when director Robert Parrish came up to her, introduced himself and the two people with him: “This is Shana Alexander and Grey Villet of Life magazine. They’re going to take pictures of you and interview you as the day progresses — little idea of ours which will make a nice picture story if and when you get the part. “Now here,” he said then, handing Ann-Margret a manuscript. “Have you ever seen one of these before? It’s the script of ‘State Fair.’ ” From 6:45 until 7, Ann-Margret looked over a penciled portion of the script. And then she was whisked to the Fox costume department where she was fitted by designer Don Feld. “These tights are good for you, Annie,” said Feld, explaining the outfit he’d chosen for her. “At no time do we ever see less than a complete leg. Is that your normal working foundation? Your normal bra? Is it pushing you up or something? You don’t look at ease . . . You’re a little bit nervous and breathing hard? Well, I can’t blame you. Good luck today. And for just a few minutes now, stand still, will you please, Ann, Annie, Ann-Margret?” At 7 :45 director Parrish returned and led Ann-Margret to Makeup. On the set, finally, at a few minutes to 9, Ann-Margret showed ’em. First she. sang “It Might As Well Be Spring” — very innocently, very demurely. And then she belted out “Bill Bailey” — wiggling from head-to-toe and toe-to-head. And later, that afternoon, Ann-Margret worked on a few key scenes from the script. Recalls Parrish about those hours: “She was very good. She was a pro. She