Monday, Jul. 09, 1951
Breathing, Just Breathing
Showgirl Jennie Lewis came home from the beauty parlor one evening last summer, looking forward to an evening of doing her nails and listening to the radio. She had scarcely sat down when a producer phoned, asking her to do a straight bit that night on an NBC television show called Broadway Open House. "All I had to do was bring a sexy evening gown, so I got out my royal blue velvet with the white ermine on top and got right over to the studio. There was no script or anything. They said, 'You just sit there and act dumb. Your name is Dagmar.'"
Mostly, the newly christened Dagmar sat on a high stool in a low-cut dress and just breathed. Somehow, televiewers liked to look at her. They clamored for more Dagmar. She was brought from her perch, led to the center of the stage, handed several sheets of paper and directed to read their malaprop contents. Dagmar performed with the same majestic and rhythmic perfection she brought to breathing. Televiewers loved it.
From $75 to $1,250. Overnight, like the Shmoo, Dagmar became a valuable piece of property. She made a guest appearance on the Red Cross pint-of-blood show, where she read an essay and sang a song. At a mammoth benefit in Madison Square Garden, Dagmar drew more applause (and whistles) than Ed Wynn, Bob Hope or Jimmy Durante. Her NBC salary rocketed from $75 a week to $1,250. ABC gave her $10,000 to sign a network contract that will pay her an additional $2,000 weekly, promised her a TV show of her own next fall. This week, she got the ultimate accolade: several novelty companies began bidding for the rights to make a Dagmar doll.
Of her spectacular rise, Dagmar says simply, "This summer is nicer than last summer." One of the things that make it nicer is a penthouse with a fine view of Central Park and a great many empty bookshelves. "I don't want to learn anything now," says Dagmar, explaining the absence of books. "If this is what you get for being dumb, I love it." Her success has also paid for a secretarial course for her sister, a college education for her brother, a new groom house for her parents in Huntington, W. Va.
"I Do Everything." Dagmar (who was born Virginia Ruth Egnor) left Huntington six years ago because she was too softhearted to keep her job in a loan office ("I hated asking all those nice people for money!"). In Manhattan, she tried modeling for a while, got a bit part in the Olsen & Johnson musical Laffing Room Only through one of the shortest interviews on record (Johnson: "What do you do?" Dagmar: "I do everything." Johnson: "I bet you do."). Before the sensational breathing exercises on Broadway Open
House, Dagmar had appeared on TV as an actress in shows like Cavalcade of Stars, causing no comment at all.
Though she has an appreciative eye for figures when it comes to salary, in other connections Dagmar is mathematically blind. Her height, 5 ft. 8 1/2 in., was recently made official by a doctor, but her age ("Put down 22 or 24 or whatever you think is charming") and her weight ("That's one thing I wouldn't care to know") are more elusive. Some statistics, however, she does remember. "My bust is 40 inches," she says, breathing deeply.
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