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.
My wife had been marking tally counts on her hands — when I discovered what she was tracking, I turned pale
When I noticed my wife drawing strange tally marks on her hand, I shrugged it off as a quirky habit. But as those marks multiplied and her answers remained cryptic, I realized something much darker was lurking beneath the surface of our seemingly happy marriage.
“Married life is great, right?” I would say to my friends when they asked. And for the most part, it was. We’d only been married for a few months, and I was still getting used to being a husband. My wife, Sarah, was always so organized, so thoughtful. She had a way of making everything seem effortless.
But then, something changed. I started noticing a strange habit of hers. One day, she pulled a pen out of her purse and made a small tally mark on the back of her hand. I didn’t think much of it at first.
“Did you just mark your hand?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
She smiled and shrugged. “Just a reminder.”
“A reminder for what?” I laughed, thinking it was a joke. But she didn’t answer. She just changed the subject.
Over the next few weeks, she did it more and more. Some days, there’d be only one or two marks. Other days, five or more. Then there’d be days with nothing at all. It seemed random, but it bothered me. What was she keeping track of?
The more I noticed, the more I started to worry. It was like she was keeping a secret from me, and that secret was slowly eating away at our happiness.
One night, I couldn’t hold it in any longer.
“Sarah, what’s with the tally marks?” I asked as we were getting ready for bed. “You do it all the time now.”
She glanced at the marks on her hand, then looked at me with that same mysterious smile. “It helps me remember things, that’s all.”
“Remember what?” I pressed.
“It’s just… things,” she said, brushing me off like it was nothing. “Don’t worry about it.”
But I did worry. A lot. I started paying closer attention. She’d mark her hand after dinner. After we argued. After we watched a movie. There was no pattern I could see.
One evening, I counted the marks on her hand: seven. That night, I watched as she transferred them into a small notebook by her bedside table. She didn’t know I was watching.
I decided to check her notebook the next morning. I waited until she was in the shower, then flipped through the pages. Each page had rows and rows of tally marks. I counted them—68 in total.
I sat on the bed, staring at the notebook in my hands. What did this number mean? What was she counting?
I tried asking her again a few days later.
“Sarah, please tell me what those marks are for. It’s driving me crazy.”
She sighed, clearly annoyed. “I told you. It’s just something I do. It helps me remember.”
“That doesn’t make any sense!” I snapped. “What are you remembering? Are you keeping track of something? Someone?”
“Just drop it, okay?” she said, her voice sharp. She looked at me, her eyes pleading. “Please, just let it go.”
But I couldn’t let it go. The marks started to feel like a wall between us. Every time I saw her make a new one, it was like she was putting up another brick, shutting me out.
I became obsessed with the number 68. What was so important about it? I noticed I was being more careful around her, almost like I was afraid to give her a reason to add another mark. But then the marks would still appear, no matter what I did.
One night, after another tense conversation, I watched her add four new marks to her hand. I needed to know what was happening. I needed to figure this out before it drove me mad. But I had no idea how to get the truth out of her. And that scared me more than anything.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that our entire marriage was on the line, and I was helpless to stop whatever was happening between us. I left for several days to see if it changed anything. Well, the tally count has increased to 78 by the time I returned.
The obsession with Sarah’s tally marks was eating me alive. I needed a break from it, but everywhere I looked, I saw her hand with those little black lines, like they were taunting me. So, when Sarah suggested we visit her mother, I thought it would be a good distraction.
Her mother, Diane, and her fifth husband, Jake, lived in a cozy house in the suburbs. It was a typical Saturday afternoon visit: tea, cookies, and small talk. Sarah and her mom were in the kitchen, chatting and laughing. I excused myself to use the bathroom.
As I passed by the guest bedroom, something caught my eye. There, on the nightstand, was a notebook. It looked just like the one Sarah kept by her bed. I hesitated, but curiosity got the better of me. I stepped inside, glancing over my shoulder to make sure no one was watching.
I opened the notebook, my hands trembling. Inside, there were pages filled with tally marks, just like Sarah’s. But there was more. Next to the marks were labels: “interrupting,” “raising voice,” “forgetting to call.” Each tally had a label, like it was keeping track of mistakes.
“What the hell is this?” I muttered under my breath.
I felt a chill run down my spine. Was this some kind of family tradition? Was Sarah’s mom counting her own mistakes? Were they both holding themselves to these impossible standards?
I closed the notebook and returned to the living room, trying to act normal, but my mind was spinning. Sarah noticed my unease.
“You okay?” she asked, concern in her eyes.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied. “Just thinking about work.”
We stayed for another hour, but I was barely present. My thoughts kept drifting back to that.
On the drive home, I couldn’t hold it in anymore.
“Sarah, I need to ask you something,” I said, gripping the steering wheel.
She looked at me, puzzled. “What’s up?”
“I saw your mom’s notebook today. It looked a lot like yours. Is this something you both do? Are you counting your mistakes? You don’t have to be perfect, you know. You don’t need to keep track of every little thing.”
There was a moment of silence, then she let out a bitter laugh.
“You think I’m counting my mistakes?”
“Well, yeah,” I said, relieved she was finally opening up. “You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. It’s okay to mess up sometimes.”
She shook her head, staring out the window. “I’m not counting my mistakes, Jack. I’m counting yours.”
The words hit me like a punch in the gut. “What?”
“Every time you break one of your vows, I make a mark,” she said quietly. “When you interrupt me, when you don’t listen, when you say you’ll do something and don’t. I’ve been keeping track since our wedding.”
On our wedding day, I promised Sarah the world in my vows. I vowed never to lie, to always listen without interrupting, and to be there every time she needed me, no matter what. It was a long list of grand, heartfelt promises that sounded perfect in the moment, but looking back, they were almost impossible to keep.
I felt the blood drain from my face. “You’re counting my mistakes? Why?”
“Because I want to know when I’ve had enough,” she said, her voice breaking. “When you reach 1,000 marks, I’m leaving.”
I pulled the car over, my heart pounding. “You’re going to leave me? For breaking some stupid promises?”
“They’re not stupid promises,” she snapped. “They’re our wedding vows, Jack. You made them to me, and you’ve broken every single one.”
I stared at her, stunned. How had we gotten here? How had I missed this? I’d thought she was being hard on herself, but I was the one who’d been careless, dismissive. I wanted to be angry, but I couldn’t. I was too shocked, too hurt.
When we got home, I couldn’t sleep. I called Diane, desperate for answers.
“Sarah told me what she’s doing,” I said. “Why didn’t you stop her?”
Diane sighed. “I did the same thing with my past husbands. I thought it would help, but it just drove us apart. It ruined my marriages.”
“Then why let her—”
“I tried to tell her,” she interrupted gently. “But she needs to see it for herself. I count good days now, Jack. Good things my husband does. It changed everything.”
I hung up, feeling more lost than ever. I could only hope that my mother-in-law’s words fell on fertile ground.
That evening, Sarah came home with tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around me. “I didn’t realize how much this was hurting us.”
I held her close, feeling a mix of relief and hope. “Let’s forget the tally marks,” I said softly. “Let’s start fresh.”
The next day, I bought a new notebook—one for us to fill with good memories and happy moments. We made our first entry that night, writing about a quiet dinner we shared, laughing and talking like we hadn’t in months.
As we moved forward, the notebook became a symbol of our promise to focus on the positives and grow together. The tally marks were gone, replaced by stories of joy, love, and gratitude. We were finally on the same page, and it felt like the beginning of something beautiful.
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