I just love Ann-Margret – she is such a warm, sweet and classy woman.
Known for her fiery beauty and undeniable talent, she captured hearts on and off the screen, famously dating Elvis Presley and standing out as one of the few Hollywood stars who truly supported our Vietnam troops.
Yet, despite her iconic career and public admiration, she believes her greatest achievement lies elsewhere…
I just love Ann-Margret – she is such a warm, sweet and classy woman.
Known for her fiery beauty and undeniable talent, she captured hearts on and off the screen, famously dating Elvis Presley and standing out as one of the few Hollywood stars who truly supported our Vietnam troops.
Yet, despite her iconic career and public admiration, she believes her greatest achievement lies elsewhere…
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Perhaps it’s my deep connection to Sweden, but I must say Ann-Margret is a personal favorite. She’s simply incredible and all her work speaks for itself. With her delightful humor and genuine charm, she continues to captivate and inspire.
And her timeless beauty is natural and unpretentious, unlike so many in Hollywood.
As recently as last year, the Swedish-American actress and singer released her debut rock album, Born to Be Wild, as reported by The New York Times.
To say that Ann-Margret has experienced it all would be an understatement. The iconic, two-time Oscar nominee, born up north in Sweden, made her mark with memorable roles in the 1960s classics Bye Bye Birdie and Viva Las Vegas.
You can read about her electric romance with Elvis Presley here, but the truth is, he was never the man of her life.
Meeting Roger Smith
Even though she dated stars like Eddie Fisher and Elvis Presley, it was Roger Smith who ultimately won Ann-Margret’s heart.
The strikingly handsome, dark-haired actor had made a name for himself with standout roles in hits like 77 Sunset Strip and Mister Roberts. As a quintessential Hollywood heartthrob, he was used to effortlessly winning over women.
But Ann-Margret was not easily swayed.
“Every other woman I met was falling all over me,” he remembered. “But this innocent, fresh-faced beauty only spoke to me when I spoke to her and the rest of the time ignored me.”
The couple first crossed paths in the 1960s, naturally meeting through their Hollywood careers. However, it wasn’t until 1965 that they began dating seriously.
Some reports suggest that Roger initially invited the Swedish star to one of his performances at a San Francisco club. But he also had another trick up his sleeve.
He knew that Ann-Margret was a passionate motorcycle enthusiast. She loved riding and had several bikes at home, along with an entire wardrobe of motorcycle gear.
”When I first started going out with her, there were a lot of guys hanging around. But they didn’t ride motorcycles. So I figured if I had one, it would help. So I bought one and we went out ridning together. It helped,” he told NEA.
By their third date, Ann-Margret was certain that Roger Smith was the man she had always been searching for.
“I knew he would protect me. I knew that I could depend on him. I sensed it completely,” she told People in 2017.
Tears of sadness
The couple tied the knot in 1967 and their marriage was everything Ann-Margret could dream of. But few knows that their union got off to a bad start. During their wedding ceremony in Las Vegas, in a ”cigarette-smoke-filled room at the Riviera Hotel”, the Bye Bye Birdie star started to cry.
”This is not the way I envisioned my wedding,” Ann-Margret told People and added: ”I think everyone thought I was pregnant because I was crying though the whole thing. But we did it.”
Thankfully, the traumatic wedding experience didn’t matter in the end.
Soon, Roger Smith took on the role of his wife’s manager. He believed in her, admired her, and sacrificed his own acting career to support her. Roger felt that Ann-Margret had more “raw talent” than he did, and he wanted to be close to her.
“Now in Roger I’ve found all the men I need rolled into one — a father, a friend, a lover, a manager, a businessman,” the actress told Rex Reed in 1972.
“It’s perfect for me. I couldn’t exist without a strong man.”
Smith helped Ann-Margret redefine her career played a pivotal role in guiding her away from the ”sex kitten” persona, understanding that she needed to evolve beyond that to maintain a lasting presence in Hollywood. His strategic decisions allowed Ann-Margret to embrace more complex roles, which ultimately led to her breakout performance in Carnal Knowledge in 1971.
By supporting her in what she wanted, Roger Smith found he liked himself much better. Being with Ann-Margret mattered more to him than all his childhood dreams of becoming a famous actor.
”When I met Ann-Margret, I felt happy for the first time in my life,” Smith told New York. ”Once I found Ann-Margret, I couldn’t stand to be without her and, surprisingly, she couldn’t stand to be without me.”
Substance abuse & injury
Throughout their long marriage, Ann-Margret and Roger Smith were incredibly close, both personally and professionally. They experienced high peaks together but also faced significant challenges. For example, Ann-Margret grappled with substance abuse and a life-altering injury.
The Viva Las Vegas star During parts of the 1970s, the Viva Las Vegas star struggled with an addiction to pills and alcohol, finding it difficult to separate fantasy from reality.
In 1972, she suffered a devastating fall from a 22-foot platform while performing in Lake Tahoe, Nevada, breaking nearly every bone in her face. Before a shocked audience at the Sahara Hotel, Ann-Margret fell into an orchestra pit, narrowly escaping death.
She underwent facial reconstructive surgery, requiring her mouth to be wired shut and a strict liquid diet to help her recover. But as if by a miracle, Ann-Margret made a remarkable recovery. But just 10 days and 59 stitches after the terrifying accident, she made a triumphant return to the stage, riding her gleaming Harley-Davidson motorcycle and roaring back to the spotlight with her signature flair.
Her husband, Roger Smith, also played a crucial role in her recovery. When the accident happened, he piloted a stolen plane from Burbank, California, and rushed her to surgeons at the UCLA Medical Center, ensuring she received immediate care.
Roger Smith illness
Ann-Margret’s marriage to Roger Smith took a dramatic turn in 1980 when he was diagnosed with myasthenia gravis, an incurable neuromuscular disease. The illness often left Smith unable to even get out of bed in the mornings. Traveling across the country was out of the question, and the disease affected the couple both personally and professionally. Smith, who was the mastermind behind managing Ann-Margret’s career, had to step back due to his health.
By 1985, Smith’s illness went into remission, allowing Ann-Margret to reignite her nightclub career. Smith supported her as she returned to the spotlight, helping her revive her popular Las Vegas shows. For a while, things looked brighter.
When Roger Smith’s symptoms eased, the couple made one final attempt to have children of their own. Before that, Ann-Margret had lovingly embraced her role as stepmother to his three children from a previous marriage.
Sadly, Ann-Margret’s biological clock was ticking faster, and despite consulting numerous fertility experts, they were unable to conceive. They did everything they could, but never had children together — a fact the actress has said is one of the greatest disappointments of her life.
Cause of death
Ann-Margret and Roger Smith remained together until his death in 2017.
The beloved actor and manager passed away at age 84 at Sherman Oaks Hospital in Sherman Oaks, Los Angeles, from complications related to myasthenia gravis.
Before his death, he had also struggled with Parkinson’s disease for many years.
His condition meant that Ann-Margret had to take a break from work to care for him. She showed total commitment to her partner during his lengthy illness.
”I kept saying no, no to everything because I was taking care of him. If you’re a spouse, if one of you has a broken wing, the other takes over,” she said.
Ann-Margret was, of course, heartbroken after her husband’s passing. Yet, she managed to find something positive and she managed to move on with her life.
”When I look back at my life, I am most proud of my marriage,” Ann-Margret told Closer Weekly. “We both wanted it to work. And it did work. We were together night and day. We loved each other and we were always in each other’s corner.”
That New York photo
To truly appreciate the love story of Ann-Margret and Roger Smith, just look at a photo taken on January 1, 1985, in New York.
It captured the Hollywood couple radiating elegance and charm at a high-profile event, showing them both at the height of their careers. But this image is more than just a glamorous snapshot. Roger’s steady gaze and Ann-Margret’s serene presence reflect their deep bond, both personally and professionally.
The rich green curtains in the background give the photo a royal feel, making it a true portrait of Hollywood royalty. What makes this picture even more powerful is that you can see the signs of Roger’s battle with illness. Though not yet fully overtaken by his condition, there’s a quiet awareness of what’s to come. Despite this, the image stands as a beautiful testament to their enduring love.
It’s more than just a memory—it’s a moment frozen in time that celebrates their strength, elegance, and the legacy they built together.
Share this story with someone who appreciates timeless love, and let’s remember how this remarkable couple faced life’s challenges with grace.
5 Tales of Husbands Who Kept Life-Altering Secrets – Until the Truth Came Out
His smile didn’t reach his eyes, and he seemed to drift off during our conversations, especially when we talked about the baby.
“Maybe he’s just stressed about work,” I reassured myself, pushing away the nagging doubt that had been creeping in. Yet, that night, as we sat down for dinner, I knew I couldn’t ignore it any longer.
“Ethan, are you okay?” I asked, my voice steady despite the turmoil I felt inside.
He looked up, startled as if pulled from some deep thought.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, his tone unconvincing. He shifted in his seat and looked away, his hands fidgeting with the napkin in his lap.
“Are you sure? You’ve seemed… distracted lately,” I pressed gently, reaching for his hand.
He sighed, squeezing my hand briefly before pulling away.
“It’s just work. They’re being tough about the paternity leave. I talked to my boss, and he’s not very supportive. He’s hinted that if I take the leave, I could lose my job.”
The words hung in the air, and I felt like I had been doused with cold water. Lose his job? That wasn’t what we had planned for! We needed his income, especially now!
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” I asked softly, my voice barely above a whisper.
“I didn’t want to stress you out,” he replied, his gaze dropping to the table. “I thought I could figure it out.”
A knot tightened in my chest. Why did it feel like there was more he wasn’t saying? But I forced myself to smile, trying to be supportive.
“We’ll get through it, my love. We always do.”
He gave me a small, strained smile in return, but it did little to ease my worry. As I cleared the dishes, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong.
The following week, I found myself at the grocery store, my mind still tangled with worry. I wandered the aisles aimlessly, unsure what to buy or even what we needed. It felt like my life was spinning out of control, and I was grasping at straws to hold it together.
“Sarah! Is that you?” a familiar voice suddenly called out, bursting my bubble of stress.
I turned to see Amanda, Ethan’s boss’s wife, pushing a cart down the aisle. Amanda had always been cheerful and outgoing, her smile lighting up any room she entered. We’d known each other since university, and though we weren’t close friends, we shared a casual camaraderie.
“Amanda, hi!” I greeted her with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. “It’s good to see you!”
“How are YOU holding up girl?” Amanda asked, her gaze flickering briefly to my belly. “And how’s that precious baby bundle coming along?”
“We’re doing fine,” I replied, though the lie tasted bitter. “Just a little stressed. Ethan’s been having trouble with his paternity leave.”
Amanda frowned, genuine confusion crossing her face.
“Trouble? I thought Ethan’s leave was approved without any issues. My husband even mentioned how happy he was for him to take some time off to be with you.”
The words were like a punch to my gut.
I stared at Amanda, my mind racing. “Are you sure?” I managed to ask, my voice trembling slightly.
“Absolutely! Hubby thought it was great for Ethan to take the leave, especially now. It’s all been sorted out.”
A cold sense of dread washed over me. Why would my husband lie about something like that? What was he hiding?
“Um, thanks, Amanda,” I muttered quickly, forcing another smile. “I really need to get going.”
I hurried through the rest of my shopping, my thoughts a chaotic mess of confusion and fear. Back home, I paced the kitchen, replaying the conversation over and over in my head. If Ethan’s leave had been approved, why would he say otherwise?
Then my eyes landed on his phone, left carelessly on the kitchen counter as he took a shower. My heart pounded as I picked it up. I hesitated, guilt gnawing at me. But the need for answers overpowered my hesitation.
I immediately opened his family chat, scrolling through messages, each one like a dagger to my heart. My instincts had told me his parents, who didn’t quite approve of me, were involved in all of this and I was right.
In a recent conversation, Ethan’s mom had texted, “Ethan, you really don’t need to take time off for the baby. Sarah’s mom can help. We need you here for the renovations.”
His dad replied, “Exactly. It’s not like you’ll be far away. You can come home on weekends.”
Ethan responded “I know. I’ll take the leave and come over to help. Sarah will understand.”
My breath caught in my throat.
He was planning to take paternity leave, not to be with me and our baby, but to help his parents with house renovations? I felt the world around me shatter.
My mind spun with disbelief, anger, and heartbreak. How could he do this to me, to our unborn child? I had imagined sharing this precious time together, but he had chosen his parents over his family. Tears blurred my vision as I quickly took pictures of the messages for proof.
Later, we had dinner together, and I pretended nothing was wrong as I made my mental plan.
By the time Ethan came home the following evening, I had already made up my mind. I decided I couldn’t stay with someone who would betray my trust so easily, especially at a time when we should be united.
“I got fired,” he announced to the empty house as soon as he arrived. My mother told me later that’s what his mom told her.
He looked around the house, noticing my absence. Then, his eyes fell on the envelope I had left on the kitchen table, addressed to him in my handwriting.
With trembling hands, he opened the letter and read the words that would seal our fate.
Ethan,
I found the messages from your parents. You lied to me about the paternity leave. If you can lie about something so important, how can I trust you with our future? I need honesty, especially now. I’m leaving because I deserve better, and so does our baby.
I’ve sent the pictures of your messages to your boss, and that’s why you were fired. I cannot stay with someone who would betray me like this, especially at a time when we should be united. I’m going to file for divorce.
Goodbye,
Sarah.
Ethan stood there, stunned and broken, staring at the letter. He had lost everything: his job, his wife, and the chance to be a present father in his child’s life, all because of his lies and choices.
I, on the other hand, knew I had made the right decision. As I sat in my parents’ living room, holding my growing belly, I realized that the future I had imagined with Ethan was gone. But I also knew I had to be strong for my baby and myself. It was time to start a new chapter, one built on truth and integrity.
Sacrificing for Our Baby
Growing up, I was a troubled teenager, the kind who made people shake their heads and mutter that I’d never amount to anything. But I found solace in studying the brain, understanding how it works, and what makes us tick.
Becoming a neurologist helped redeem me. It was a way to prove to myself and everyone else that I could do something meaningful. For years, the satisfaction of helping people gave me purpose. Yet, it wasn’t just the work itself that fulfilled me; it was the life I built around it… a life with my husband.
When we first got married, I was the breadwinner, and James supported me in every way possible. My husband of four years worked in marketing, earning significantly less than I did, but we never let money define our roles or our happiness.
From the very beginning, he and I had agreed that having children wasn’t a priority for us. If we were ever to consider kids, adoption was the preferred route. Biological children? I wasn’t opposed to the idea, but I wasn’t particularly enthusiastic either. I liked my life the way it was: predictable, structured, and driven by my career.
But everything changed the day his best friend had a baby boy.
I still remember the moment James held that tiny bundle of joy for the first time. His entire demeanor softened, and his eyes filled with a tenderness I’d never seen before.
He suddenly started talking about having a child of our own, painting this picture of a life I’d never envisioned for myself. I tried to brush it off, telling myself it was just a phase, but life decided for us when I unexpectedly found out I was pregnant.
“What do we do now?” I asked him that evening, clutching the positive pregnancy test in one hand and my composure in the other.
“Let’s keep it! We’ll make it work,” he replied without hesitation, squeezing my hand reassuringly.
And so, despite my reservations, I agreed.
We came to a compromise: My husband would quit his job and become a stay-at-home dad once the baby arrived, allowing me to continue pursuing my demanding career. It seemed like a logical plan; a perfect balance between parenthood and professional aspirations. But I was so wrong…
When our daughter, Lily, was born, everything shifted.
The moment I held her, I knew I’d never regret having her. Yet, a part of me was still desperate to hold on to the life I’d carefully built before her arrival. Soon, my short maternity leave came to an end, and I found myself booked for a medical conference out of state.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” I asked James before leaving. He stood in the doorway, cradling Lily with that same tender look he had the first time he held her.
“Don’t worry, Rachel. We’ll be fine. You just focus on your work, okay?”
“Call me if you need anything,” I insisted, the words sounding hollow even to my own ears.
My husband smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“I will.”
But when I returned from the conference, everything felt different. James was distant, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced by something darker and more strained.
“Hey, how was the conference?” he asked, his gaze fixated on a spot somewhere beyond me.
“Good,” I replied cautiously. “How’s everything here?”
He shrugged, his face a mask of indifference. “Fine. Just… tired, I guess.”
Alarm bells rang in my head. “Tired?” I echoed. “What’s going on, babe?”
He hesitated, then spoke quietly, his voice tinged with something I hadn’t heard before; fear.
“I don’t know if I can do this, Rachel.”
“Do what?” I asked, though I already knew where this was heading.
“THIS… staying home with Lily. I feel trapped. Overwhelmed.”
His confession hit me like a sledgehammer!
“You said you could handle it. You agreed to this!”
“I know, but it’s harder than I thought. I’m not cut out for this,” he moaned.
“So, what are you suggesting? That I give up my career? Extend my maternity leave?”
“No, I just… maybe we could look into daycare?” he replied.
“Daycare?” I stared at him in disbelief. “We talked about this. We agreed that I’d go back to work and you’d stay home with Lily.”
“I know, but…”
“I made sacrifices, James!” My voice rose in frustration. “I pushed myself back into work mode for us. You knew how important this was for me!”
“And I made sacrifices too!” he shot back, his voice breaking. “I quit my job, Rachel. My career is gone.”
Silence fell between us, thick and suffocating. Lily’s soft cries echoed from the nursery, and my husband glanced over his shoulder like a man about to shatter.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I just need help.”
For the first time since Lily’s birth, I realized the depth of his struggle. I wasn’t the only one fighting to keep everything together. But I still couldn’t shake the feeling of betrayal. James had promised, and now he wanted to back out?
The next few days were a blur of strained conversations and forced smiles. We barely spoke, each of us retreating into our separate worlds. I spent more time at work, and he spent more time avoiding eye contact.
Finally, one evening, after putting Lily to bed, I sat down beside him on the couch.
“We need to figure this out, James.”
He nodded, though he didn’t meet my gaze. “Yeah, I know.”
“This isn’t working. We’re both miserable, and our daughter deserves better.”
“What do you want me to do, Rachel?” he snapped, frustration leaking into his voice. “I’m doing my best here.”
“Maybe we need help,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “Maybe we rushed into this.”
“What are you saying?” His voice cracked. “You regret having Lily?”
“No! But I regret that we’re failing her.”
He looked away, pain etched into his features. “So, what do we do?”
“I’ve hired a nanny.”
His head whipped around, disbelief flooding his eyes. “What? A nanny? We can’t afford that!”
“Yes, we can,” I said firmly. “You’ll start working from home again, and all your income will go toward paying her. We’ll find a way.”
The argument that followed was heated, but I stood my ground. My husband wanted to be there for Lily, but he needed help. And if I couldn’t be there, then I’d make sure someone else was.
Claire, our new nanny, started the following Monday. She was a godsend. She was calm, experienced, and exactly what James needed. Slowly, he began to find his footing again. The tension in our home eased, and for the first time since our daughter’s birth, there was a sense of peace.
One evening, as I watched James feed Lily with a gentle smile on his face, I knew I’d made the right decision. Maybe things would never be perfect, but we were finding a new normal.
“I’m sorry,” he said one night, his voice low and sincere. “I should’ve been more supportive.”
“I’m sorry too,” I whispered back. “I should’ve listened and communicated my plans more.”
It wasn’t a perfect resolution, but it was a start. We were learning to navigate this new life together, one day at a time. As we sat on the porch that evening, watching the stars twinkle above us, I felt a glimmer of hope.
We still had a long way to go, but as long as we faced it together, I knew we could make it work.
The Secret Behind the Sale
The golden light of the setting sun bathed the porch in a soft glow, and I swayed gently on the swing, listening to the rhythmic creak of its chains. Mark stood before me, his eyes filled with a familiar intensity.
“We need more space if we want to start a family, Layla. This place is just too small,” he said, his voice tinged with an earnestness that tugged at my heart.
Little did I know that conversation would change the trajectory of my life.
I glanced around, taking in the cozy house and its blooming garden, framed by the white picket fence that my parents had installed for us. This house was more than just a home; it was a gift from my parents when we married a year ago, a symbol of their love and support for our new life together.
“But Mark, this house is perfect,” I replied softly, feeling a pang of sadness at the thought of leaving it behind. “My parents were so generous with this gift.”
My husband sighed and sat down beside me on the swing, his presence comforting yet somehow distant. He took my hand, his fingers warm against my cool skin.
“I know, sweetheart. But think about the future. A bigger house means more room for a nursery and a backyard for our child or children to play in. It’s a step forward, a step toward the life we’ve been dreaming about.”
His words painted a beautiful picture; one filled with laughter, late-night feedings, and watching our children take their first steps in a spacious, sunlit room. But as enchanting as it sounded, something about it didn’t sit right with me.
I looked around at the roses we had planted together, the cozy living room where we spent countless evenings curled up on the couch, and the kitchen where we cooked our first meal as husband and wife.
Could I really leave all this behind?
“Are you sure this is what we need to do?” I asked, searching his face for any hint of hesitation, any sign that he, too, was struggling with this decision.
But my husband’s gaze was steady, unwavering.
“I know it’s hard, my angel. But we’ll create new memories in the new house. It’ll be our home, where we’ll raise our children and build our future together.”
I knew he was right, or at least, I wanted to believe he was. I trusted Mark and his vision for our future. If moving to a bigger house was what he thought we needed, then I would follow him, no matter how difficult it was to let go.
“Alright,” I whispered, swallowing the lump in my throat. “We’ll sell the house… for our future.”
Mark’s smile was radiant, his relief palpable. He pulled me into a tight embrace, his lips brushing against my hair.
“Thank you, my love. I promise you, it’ll be worth it!”
I agreed with a heavy heart.
Within weeks, our cozy little house was on the market, and buyers were lining up. I couldn’t shake the sense of loss that lingered, but Mark’s enthusiasm and optimism kept me from voicing my doubts.
He assured me we would find the perfect home, one that I would fall in love with just as much as this one.
“It’s the right decision, Lay. You’ll see, it’s for the best,” he said, sealing another moving box with tape.
I nodded, even though my heart felt as if it were being squeezed.
The living room, now filled with boxes labeled “Kitchen,” “Books,” and “Decor,” seemed foreign, stripped of its warmth and familiarity. We were set to move out the following day, staying with Mark’s parents for a few days until he revealed the “surprise” of our new home.
Everything felt rushed, but I pushed my concerns aside. My husband knew what he was doing… or so I thought.
That’s when my phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number.
“Hey, Layla. I heard you guys sold the house. I’m so happy Mark finally confessed to you. You deserve to know the truth,” the stranger texted.
I stared at the screen, confusion swirling in my mind. Confessed? What truth?
My fingers trembled as I typed back, “Who is this? What confession?”
A few moments later, my phone buzzed again.
“Ummm… It’s Candice, Mark’s ex. Oh, so he didn’t… YOU NEED TO CHECK THE ATTIC.”
Candice? Mark’s ex? My heart raced as a sense of dread washed over me. Why would she be reaching out now? And what could possibly be in the attic that she felt the need to warn me about?
The attic door creaked as I slowly pushed it open, revealing a dusty, dimly lit space filled with old boxes and forgotten items. I hesitated, fear and curiosity battling within me.
What could be up here?
I began searching through the boxes, my heart pounding harder with each breath.
After what felt like an eternity, I spotted a small wooden chest tucked away in the corner, partially hidden beneath a stack of old blankets. I hadn’t noticed it before.
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