Medford mail tribune., August 18, 1963, Image 38

Ann-Margret:
MOVIES
When I met Ann-Margret for lunch
at a crowded Hollywood restau
rant, she sat quietly and unnoticed in
a far corner.
Her voice was so low I could barely make out
what she was saying, and it revealed an insecure,
little-girl quality that would be more befitting
for a homely, ill-at-ease teen-ager than for a girl
who has all Hollywood at her feet
By her own admission, Ann-Margret gets so
nervous before she faces an audience that she
can't keep her food down. And for courage she
relies on charms, such as the tiny, hand-carved
Swedish horse she has carried with her since
high school.
But the moment the beautiful redhead faces a
microphone or camera, a transformation takes
place. She becomes a human dynamo who can
belt out a song like a youthful Ethel Merman
a performer who teases, wiggles, and squeezes
the last nuance out of a rendition until she has
her audience enthralled.
In three years, Ann-Margret has worked her
self up from being a member of a comparatively
unknown combo called the Sutteltones to the hot
test property in Hollywood.
Her capable managers, Bobby Roberts and
Pierre Cossette, have received much of the credit
for her meteoric rise. Certainly their careful
handling has assured Ann-Margret the proper
opportunities and exposure not too much and
not too little. For instance, they got her into
three films, and each has provided her with a
more rewarding part In "Pocketful of Miracles,"
she had little more than a supporting role. In
"State Fair," her salary was $300 a week, and
she cos tar red with Bobby Darin. In "Bye Bye
Birdie," she was paid $36,000 and stole the show
from such established performers as Janet Leigh
and Dick Van Dyke.
Recently she signed with MGM for two more
films at a total price of $275,000. She also has
commitments with Columbia and Frank Sinatra's
Essex Productions.
Obviously, Ann-Margret's managers deserve a
lot of credit But I doubt if any force on earth
could have deterred her from becoming a star.
When she faces a camera, she has an indefatig
'able quality that cries out to be recognized.
In her own mind, Ann-Margret has a com
pelling reason to get ahead. "I want to make up
to my parents for all the sacrifices they made for
me," she said. "I want everything that I can pos
sibly get for them their own house, their own
gardener, their own car. Why, we still don't even
have a washing machine. My mother has to go
. to the laundromat twice a week!"
Considering Ann-Margret's present income,
this statement can be explained only by the
Swedish frugality of the Olsons (Ann-Margret
does not use her last name professionally).
She vividly remembers the toughest time the
family faced, when a series of accidents caused
her father to be without a job for months. "Even
after he was released from the hospital, he still
was unable to work .and, to make ends meet, we
r
r
-J (X
I
Holly
wood's Hottest
New
comer Off stage, this stunning redhead
is surprisingly shy and insecure;
but on stage, she's a
spectacularly assured performer
who spellbinds audiences
By PEER I. OPPENHEIMER
moved from Fox Lake, III, to Wilmette, 111.,
where Mother was offered a job as receptionist
at a funeral home. Our living quarters were in
cluded as part of her pay. That's why she decided
to take the job."
Their living room was actually part of the
funeral parlor. "Some nights they would use the
front room for wakes until one o'clock in the
morning," Ann-Margret recalled. "After every
body left Mother would tidy things up, then close
the sliding door that led from our side of the
living room to the part of the funeral parlor
where they kept the casket It really didn't bother
me until the kids at school began to heckle me
about sleeping next to a dead body!"
Nevertheless, the Olsons stayed at the funeral
parlor until Ann-Margret's father was well
enough to return to work.
Ann-Margret was born in Stockholm, Sweden,
on April 28, 1941. Her father had immigrated
to the United States at 19 and settled in Fox
Lake, near Chicago. He returned to Sweden in
the 1930s, met and married the former Anna
Aronson, then came back to the United States in
1942 by himself.
Because of the war, Ann-Margret and her
mother were not able to join him until 1946, and
neither of them spoke a word of English when
they arrived. Because of the language barrier,
the first months in the new country turned the
vivacious child into a shy, lonely, and rather
frightened youngster.
Mrs. Olson, who suffered from shyness her
self, made up her mind that her daughter wasn't
going to be burdened with the same handicap.
The best cure, she decided, would be for Ann
Margret to perform in front of other people. So
she enrolled her in a dancing school
ITVtOM the time Ann-Margret was seven, she
J7 danced and sang at neighborhood social func
tions. At 17, she got her first big chance when a
Kansas City hotel hired her as a last-minute re
placement for a singer. This and subsequent en
gagements provided her with enough money to
pay her tuition at Northwestern University.
There, she and three young musicians formed the
Sutteltones jazz combo.
The combo split up after an appearance in Las
Vegas. But a few weeks later, Ann-Margret was
back in the desert resort as George Burns' pro
tegee. Ten days after she closed at the Sahara,
she was signed by 20th Century-Fox.
Ann-Margret frankly admits going steady with
three people: Lou Adler, a music publisher; Jack
Gilardi, a good-looking agent; and Eddie Fisher,
her most constant companion when he is in town.
She was close to marriage once, when she was
engaged briefly to Hollywood businessman Burt
Sugarman. One day she decided she didn't want
to be engaged any more and broke off their rela
tionship. "I dig motherhood,", she insists, "but
I'm just not ready for it."
But from all indications, Hollywood and the
world are ready for Ann-Margret, whose rush to
stardom is played with the gusto of a child shout
ing, "Here I come ready or not!"
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