This is a new year. A new beginning. And things will change.
—TAYLOR SWIFT
The beauty of the career I have been privileged to have is that you never know what tomorrow will bring. One day the phone rings, and your life changes. All the plans you made get turned upside down, topsy-turvy. I love the saying, “If you want to make God laugh, tell her your plans!”
Alan and I were in New York finishing up a book promotion tour, and the phone rang. It was Michael David, a prolific Broadway producer, who asked to meet with us. He came to our hotel room to woo Alan and me into taking on the project of starring in Annie Get Your Gun. I would be Annie, and the commitment would be for one and a half years, not including rehearsals.
There were a few complications. First, the two remaining daughters of Irving Berlin had not allowed anyone to do this incredible musical since Debbie Reynolds in the 1950s. They flew to New York from Paris to meet with me to see if I was an appropriate choice.
The rehearsal room was bare and unadorned and looked like a scene in movies. Sitting on fold-up chairs were the two Berlin sisters and the Rodgers and Hammerstein lawyers who handled the Irving Berlin estate. They were there to look me over, and after an hour they all went out of the room. They gave their approval to Michael David and left.
Over the next couple of weeks, everyone involved had a lot of back-and-forth phone calls to structure the deal so everyone would walk away feeling satisfied. Alan always says in every deal, everyone should feel they won something. I would be obliged to open the musical in Japan, work my way across America playing regional theaters, and then finally appear on Broadway, with a minimum of a six-month run and a year and a half commitment or longer. Alan of course would go with me. It was a huge commitment, not only in terms of time but also in life on the road and all that that entails; crappy hotels, crappy road food, and the gypsy life; it’s the way of the road. I’m a homebody, I like a calm life, and I love to prepare our meals and enjoy our evenings, so this would be a big “give” on our part. Broadway doesn’t pay television money, and it is expected that much of your joy comes from the thrill of being in the theater. We were both enthusiastic but also apprehensive.
Finally our lawyers and their lawyers all agreed. We would sign the papers in their office the next morning and then take off like a rocket. But then…the phone rang.
It was Tom Miller and Bob Boyett of megatelevision series fame. Think Bosom Buddies, Happy Days, Full House, Perfect Strangers, Mork & Mindy, Laverne & Shirley, and Family Matters. They had had one hit after another, and on that phone call they offered me the starring part opposite Patrick Duffy to begin a new series for ABC called Step by Step. The production was to begin immediately. ABC by now had new management—the boys who had so gleefully ousted me were all gone. Anyway, what a delicious position to be in: having to choose between a prime-time TV series and a Broadway show. I could tour for a year or film for what could turn out to be several years. My decision had to be made that night.
We passed on Annie Get Your Gun.
Soon I had a parking spot at the famed Warner Bros. studio, a starring role, a great dressing room, happy people, and the big prize: Patrick Duffy. It was a joy to come to work every day to be with this uncomplicated, funny, talented, nice guy.
The show was about two divorced people who fall in love and get married. Both have children; he had three, and I had three. It mimicked my real life—I understood all too well the complications of blending families and the emotions that run so high. But unlike in real life, in a situation comedy the issues are material for big laughs.
Tom and Bob were extraordinary producers. We went on the air in the fall of 1990, and the public loved the show. It was family entertainment, clean and wholesome.
The underlying theme was that Patrick (Frank) was always trying to have sex with me (Carol), but every time they got near the big moment, a kid would burst through the door or have a nightmare or have a problem. Patrick and I got along splendidly. He had a great wife, and the four of us would socialize and became great friends, remaining so to this day.
The show was renewed for a second year and before our summer hiatus was over, Tom Miller and Bob Boyett called to tell me that my salary would be raised to match Patrick’s. No lawyers, no negotiating, no issues, no hard feelings. They offered an incredible sum, which was so lovely of them (and smart).
Once again I was on the covers of magazines regularly and in demand for outside projects. I played the good, cool, sexy, hot mom. My kids came first, and I was fiercely protective not only of my kids but of his as well. I think the series spoke to all the blended families who were now out there. They could watch and be entertained and relieved that they were not alone in their circumstance.
Step by Step was marketed globally. It was a big hit in France, and in Italy it was renamed Una bionda per papà. The voice-over dubbing made me sound like a domineering balabusta. One summer Alan and I were vacationing in Italy and we took a side trip to Ravello, a charming village with cobblestone streets, lots of churches, and outdoor markets. I noticed people looking at me and couldn’t understand it. Then kids started following me and calling me Carole (with a heavy Italian accent). We walked faster and faster, and the group of kids grew to about thirty or forty, all yelling “Carole, Carole.” Then they started running, so we started running. Finally we ducked into a small restaurant, and I said to the owner, “May I hide here for a minute? I’m being chased.”
The owner looked at me and stated excitedly, “Carole!”
Then I realized Step by Step was a big hit in Italy, and they were all calling me by my show name, Carol. The amazing power of television.
Step by Step stayed on the air for seven seasons. It was a genuine hit, always at the top of the ratings for Friday night—family night—television.
Our life had settled into a manageable routine. During the week, I filmed Step by Step, while Alan was at his home office taking meetings, proposing new projects and deals, and manning phone calls and offers. He is so good at instigating projects, I call him my “idea man.” His brain never stops. Sometimes he’s far out there, and other times his ideas are so solid it’s breathtaking. On weekends, we either went on the road to do a lecture or maybe a gig with my nightclub act. So to say our plate was full was an understatement. It was hard work, but we were together and having fun. I couldn’t and probably wouldn’t do any touring without Alan. I love the work, but the thought of being alone in a hotel room somewhere was not appealing.
Another thing happened in the seven years I was on Step by Step. The children in the large cast needed to work rehearsals around their school schedules, so I had a lot of free time in my dressing room. I am a productive person, so I started writing another book. This one was called Wednesday’s Children, about children of abuse who made it out. I interviewed countless people who had endured terrible childhoods to explore what strength they found in themselves to survive and go on to productive lives.
I am fascinated by the qualities of those who survive and of those who are done in by trauma, like my brother Michael. I remember Michael as the most beautiful child; I used to take care of him and would proudly push him around the neighborhood in his stroller showing him off, he was so bright and darling. But over the years, as we all left home and he remained alone with our dad, his life turned dark. I remember with horror my own nights in that house, so I can only imagine what it was like for Michael. I at least had had my brother and sister to comfort me.
Michael essentially stopped talking; yes, he spoke a word now and then, but it was as if his voice were stuck deep inside him. His eyes were always downcast; he was a child with no self-esteem, and I am sure he was the butt of the “worthless” diatribe that spewed from my father during his drunkenness. At twelve, Michael started using drugs. He had a lot of emotional pain and acted out in ways that turned people off. No one really understood drug addiction at that time. He was just considered a bad kid, rather than someone who was screaming for help and to be heard. I was so mired in trying to survive as a single teenage mother that I wasn’t able to help Michael. I wish I could have. We do the best we can with the information we have at the time. I couldn’t realize he was so troubled—I was too young and too overwhelmed with my own problems just trying to get through each day.
Looking back, I can see that all the signs were there. Finally his drug addiction and alcoholism took their toll, and at age forty-six his heart exploded. But it wasn’t a lost life, he made a true family with his second wife and raised his four sons. At his funeral, I was deeply moved by how his children talked about him. His oldest son spoke simply but eloquently: “My dad was the type of father that would get up at four in the morning to drive us to our wrestling match.” That said volumes. I was happy for Michael that he had found such love and support in his life.
Around this time, while at Berkeley, my son, Bruce, met the love of his life, the wonderful Caroline Arminio. On his twenty-first birthday, I gave him a surprise party at Trader Vic’s, a hip restaurant in San Francisco. That night I saw this beautiful young woman, Caroline, with gorgeous skin, long luxurious chestnut hair, and spectacular, expressive brown eyes. I could see she only had eyes for Bruce. Bruce had another girlfriend then. The next day I mentioned to Bruce, “That Caroline girl last night sure likes you.” He said, “Oh, she’d never be with me.” He was wrong, and they ended up together. I like to think I had a hand in setting it up.
After graduation, they remained together while he attended UCLA film school and began living together. Caroline was and is a great girl. It was not up to me, but she was who I had hoped he would choose, and sure enough, she would go on to become his wife. Not only is she a knockout, she is an amazing cook. She fills in all the gaps for Bruce and gives him the attention he deserves. They make a life together that continues to bring joy to him, them, and all of us today.
Stephen, living in Paris, had met Olivia, his future wife. Leslie was combing through flea markets looking for used jeans to hand-paint and had created quite a successful business. Her designs were now in high-end hip stores like Maxfield Bleu. She designed the incredible matador suit for Madonna for her Mitsubishi commercial, which aired in the States and in Japan. As always, it was a perfect design: black matador bolero jacket and pants with a big jeweled M on the back. In one of the iconic Madonna’s best-known posters, she stands with her back to the camera with the large jeweled M as the focal point, along with her short platinum blond hair. The commercial caused quite the sensation. Leslie designed for various rock ’n’ roll groups and continued to be my chief costumer, making clothes and costumes so hip and sexy and beautiful that they got applause whenever I walked out on stage in a new outfit.
What a privilege to be married to your best friend, your lover, your business partner.
Alan and I loved our wonderful life together. We spent weekends at our Palm Springs home doing the stuff of life, cooking and spending time with our children, family, and friends. It’s amazing that we never get tired of being together. What a privilege to be married to your best friend, your lover, your business partner. Love, sex, and business were and are all part of the rhythm of our lives together. We might wake up in the middle of the night and discuss the show, or a business deal, or have incredible sex. It’s all delicious. It never gets old—it’s always sexy.
Our relationship is romantic; I have always loved to get all dressed up and go out on a date with Alan. I love the way he looks at me when I emerge from my dressing room; his eyes say everything, and he never forgets to admire. He usually says something like “my beauty.” I don’t care what anyone else thinks about how I look, I just like to know my husband thinks I’m beautiful. He tells me all the time, just as he tells me how much he loves me many times every day. When we go out on a date, I often wear my favorite Richard Tyler black cocktail dress, based on the lace-trimmed slip Elizabeth Taylor wore in the movie Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. Richard made mine out of men’s thin wool suiting fabric, in black, with black lace trim around the décolleté and tiny spaghetti straps.
We all have problems, but our problems are our opportunities.
On this Christmas in 1991, Alan gave me a perfect pair of beautiful antique diamond earrings that are still my favorites. They are what I always wear on special occasions, really lovely, small but exquisite. With a dab of Chanel No. 5 behind my ears, wearing my diamond earrings and my favorite little black dress, we go out to our favorite restaurant in Palm Springs, Le Vallauris. We go there regularly and have been enthusiastic customers for the past forty-plus years. It’s a throwback of a place with a jazz trio, a cool bar, and authentic fabulous French food. We love it. Once I like something, I never get tired of it.
The next year I wrote another book in my dressing room called After the Fall. I was like so many women who have had problems, and I’ve always used my problems to learn and win; that’s what I was doing with my writing. My problems became my gift. In writing my books, I found clarity. We all have problems, but our problems are our opportunities. I seem to have an inordinate need to flush them out, learn from them, and then write about them. Each of my problems has propelled me forward as an opportunity to learn and grow. Mrs. Kilgore had told me on that last visit that the worst was over, so this became a great coping mechanism for me. No matter what happened in my life, nothing would ever be as bad as those horror-filled nights in the closet. It freed me and gave me gratitude.
The next problem was unexplained weight gain, so I began writing about that. Everyone was having trouble with weight. I devised a protocol I had learned about while summer-vacationing in the South of France: you lose weight by eating. This was before the South Beach Diet. It was science-based, and people took to it. No one likes to diet. The body needs fuel but the right kind of fuel. My books on this subject, my Somersizing plan, each sold over a million copies; I was proud of them. My publisher said to Alan one day, “Suzanne’s books are keeping us afloat.” The books just kept coming out of me. I am paired with a great publisher, Crown, who were and are so supportive that they pretty much gave me carte blanche to write whatever was on my mind each year. They called it the “Woody Allen deal”: Woody’s studio allows him the same kind of freedom in making his movies.
The moment when you feel you are tapping out in what you are doing at present is the perfect time to change directions and turn right or left. You take with you what is still working but change it into another form.
My Somersize books were a great outlet, allowing me to create recipes, and soon, while promoting them, I was teaching cooking on TV. Ironically, my dream of making a living cooking had found an outlet. I loved doing cooking demos, so soon another new business emerged: Somersize food!
In life, reinvention is the name of the game. The moment when you feel you are tapping out in what you are doing at present is the perfect time to change directions and turn right or left. You take with you what is still working but change it into another form.
One day Alan said to me, “I think you should go on HSN, the Home Shopping Network.”
“What?” I asked. I thought he was crazy, but as usual he was a visionary, and it turned out to be a great idea. Little did I know that we would spend the next seventeen years on HSN. The loose, free-form, ad-libbed nature of the work fit my personality perfectly. I loved talking to the women. It was truly interactive TV. They would tell me what was on their wish lists, and I was able in most cases to provide it for them.
Use your problems to work for you. Don’t let obstacles that seem overwhelming do you in. Use them; they’re your great asset.
We are entrepreneurs, and entrepreneurs are self-starters. Frankly, entrepreneurs are also unemployed. We don’t have employers who set up profit-sharing plans or IRAs or provide health care and paid vacations and bonuses. We’re on our own—for everything. To succeed, you need at least one great idea and the knowhow to bring it to fruition. Then to fully exploit this great idea, you need to play long ball over months, years, and maybe a lifetime. You have to be impatient, yet patient enough to mellow out the great idea. This means thinking about it day after day, and if after a time (a month maybe) you still feel it’s a great idea, you act on it.
Who knew I’d become the queen of the Home Shopping Network? It all started with a negative: way back when I was fired from Three’s Company Alan and I decided to go it on our own. The shmoo! So much of my writing is to be a cheerleader for all my readers to use the negative; use your problems to work for you. Don’t let obstacles that seem overwhelming do you in. Use them; they’re your great asset. Our choice to do it our way freed Alan and me to have fun, take risks, and reinvent. It was the best choice we could have made.
Writing my books and then appearing on the Home Shopping Network allowed me to continue to grow and explore all that I might become and do with my time on this earth.
One night after I finished filming Step by Step, for the last scene I had been wearing gold satin pajamas. After the show, we were going directly to the airport to fly the red-eye to Tampa, since my first show on HSN was to start there at eight a.m. It was a grueling schedule. I said to Alan, “I wish I could wear these pajamas on the plane.” He said, “Do it.”
I thought, Yeah, why not? To civilize it, I tied a caramel-colored cashmere sweater around my waist (frankly making it a great-looking outfit), and I know I was the most comfortable person on the plane that night. When we arrived, my luggage was lost so I had no choice but to wear the pajamas on the air. The phone lit up. The ladies wanted the PJs! We started a business, and on our first show we sold twenty thousand pairs of satin pajamas.
At this point, we brought our talented daughter, Leslie, into the picture as our fashion designer. She had already achieved much notoriety designing for Madonna. She hooked up with a vendor who took her designs to a manufacturer in China, and two months later we were in the pajama business. They became a signature look for my ladies, or Suzanne’s Ladies as they’d come to be called. And they were the catalyst for what became a dynamite fashion line. Leslie was and is the most talented designer I’ve ever worked with, and I’ve worked with the best.
As for jewelry, we started at HSN with a line they provided to us; they wanted me to sell run-of-the-mill HSN product. I tried it a couple of times, but it wasn’t right for me. I had good taste, and as a woman, I know what we want. I told a vendor that I believed all women, me included, would love to have estate jewelry, the kind that once only the wealthiest women in the world could afford. In other words: fabulous fakes.
I turned over design of the jewelry to my cool stepdaughter Leslie, who is in the vanguard of all the hippest and coolest things, and that is what the collection looked like. We had the most beautiful jewelry made exclusively for my line; emeralds and diamonds, diamond bracelets, matching earrings, big fabulous real-looking rings. They were spectacular. So now the fashion line had an additional component, the right jewelry to go with the outfit. It was a slam dunk.
Many of my wealthy friends in Hollywood asked me if they could have some. It wasn’t inexpensive. A fabulous fake diamond necklace set in 18k over metal, hinged and pronged exactly like the real thing, would sell in the three-hundred-dollar range. But it was an investment. We sold out—couldn’t keep them in stock. The collection was a smashing, phenomenal success. In fact, all our jewelry and fashion collections for the next seventeen years were colossal successes. During those years, we added new categories: small kitchen appliances, organic food, both packaged and fresh, candy, bedding, fitness, and beauty.
Great relationships are those where you both give each other a lot of attention. It’s what everyone wants: to be noticed, loved, appreciated. It takes two.
But best of all was my audience. At HSN I developed a relationship with the women viewers that was a true bonding. I loved talking with them, respected them, learned from them, and listened to them. I talked to them the way I talked to my girlfriends. One woman called me on the air one night and said, “You are the best friend I’ve ever had.” It’s part of being human, connecting and caring for each other.
I would talk to them about Alan. The women loved seeing us so happy, and they loved him—he was sexy and cool and hip. Remember, he came from television and knew how to work a camera. But mostly they liked the way he liked me. I didn’t want any other man, and they could see it. From the very beginning, up until today, he has loved me, and I know it. Lucky me. I don’t know what I did to be so adored, but I don’t question it. I just take it in and love it. I truly believe great relationships are those where you both give each other a lot of attention. It’s what everyone wants: to be noticed, loved, appreciated. It takes two.
What started as a shopping business became much more, and it lasts to today—One day I finished a phone call on air and lightheartedly said to my viewing audience, we should all get together sometime, maybe a cruise. And that started the phone ringing. The women loved the idea. So in my constant reinvention, now we had Suzanne Somers Cruises. We took the largest ship Carnival had and sold it out in twenty hours.
I was sitting in the green room at HSN joking around with Jim England, the president of our company, and I heard Suzanne say on TV something about “all getting together.” What did she mean by “getting together” with thousands or even millions of women?
Carnival told me that the cruise sold out in twenty hours, and if they had had more people answering phones, it would have happened in ten. That had never happened before in their history.
Suzanne told her ladies to wear their satin pajamas to the ship and lots of Suzanne jewelry. And they did. It was incredible to see twenty-two hundred ladies all dressed in different PJ colors wearing loads of jewelry laughing and boarding the ship. None of them had ever met, to my knowledge, but they behaved like they belonged to a secret club. They had Suzanne in common, and they loved Suzanne…still do.
Truth is powerful—when you tell the truth you can’t lose.
I learned a lot on that five-day cruise. First of all, women seem to have a herding instinct. They immediately formed groups to party, and party they did day and night. When Suzanne turned up, they laughed and danced and screamed and had the best time. Jim and I sat in the penthouse looking down at this scene, and I thought if it were guys on this cruise drinking heavily, they’d be beating the crap out of one another and tossing each other overboard.
The one weirdness was the shoplifters in our midst. On most decks, we had Suzanne stores and watched as women checking out the goods would put on a pair of our sunglasses and walk away. The same thing happened with jewelry and some fashion pieces. I never intervened because I didn’t want to alter the great spirit of the cruise, but I was disappointed.
Suzanne performed her Vegas show for the women, gave a couple of lectures, and did a couple of cooking demos. She flitted through the hordes of happy ladies hugging and giggling until suddenly we were back in Miami. It was a wild bonding experience and a successful cruise.
Through the years, I taught my “ladies” everything I knew and was learning on my life’s journey. I taught them all the tricks I had learned in my years of being in the business, like the value of a cool haircut, and nude pointy-toed heels with toe cleavage to make their legs look longer and sexier. I taught them how to cook and offered them useful cooking tools. It became a club of sorts, and in fact the women referred to themselves as Suzanne’s Ladies. I liked them, and they liked me. I told them the truth. Truth is powerful—when you tell the truth you can’t lose.