July 5, 2025 • 21 mins
Juliet Prowse danced with Elvis. Stole scenes from Sinatra. And, for a time, was introduced as the most famous dancer in the world.
But how did she go from South African ballet student… to global dance sensation and reigning queen of Las Vegas?
In this episode of The Rest of the Story on the Hey, Dancer! podcast, we trace her path from early ballet brilliance to an unexpected break with Jack Cole, a life-changing encounter with Hermes Pan, and her scene-stealing debut in Can-Can.
Not to mention, her chemistry with Elvis in G.I. Blues — and her bold decision to walk away from a major Hollywood production.
And just how did she become Entertainer of the Year in Vegas and sell out theatres in London?
She dazzled. She defied expectations.
And I’ll even share a bit about my own connection to her.
It’s time you knew her story.
Check out my Return to Dance docuseries!
Support my Instagram — where I post daily dance inspo, insights and fun! @backtogreat
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
(00:00):
At her peak, she was introduced on television as one of the greatest dancers in the world,
(00:08):
and for a while, she was everywhere.
Welcome to the rest of the story, my weekly series, where I dig into the lives behind
the dance legends.
Here on my podcast, Hey Dancer, I'm your host Miller Daurey, and as per usual, this
episode is strictly dance centered.
(00:29):
There's always so much you can say, especially about today's subject.
So in the outro, I will touch on a few other aspects of her life, including the one time she
actually watched me dance.
Yeah, me.
If you're enjoying this series, you find it entertaining, educational, inspirational, make
(00:49):
sure you're subscribed or following along.
Hit that notification bell so you are alerted when a new video drops.
Give it a like, share with your dance fam, comment, it all helps a podcaster out.
Okay, let's get into it.
She was born in Bombay in 1936, the second child of an Anglo-French marriage.
(01:09):
She was only about 15 or 18 months old when her family noticed it.
She'd pull herself up to the radio, a piece of furniture that combined a radio and record
player, and bounce along to the music, totally on the beat.
This very small child was already so aware of rhythm.
(01:30):
Right from the beginning, she was always dancing.
Her father, a successful businessman, died when she was just three, not long after her mother
moved the family to South Africa, and it was there that things really began.
At four, she was enrolled in Ballet School, and by seven or eight, her first teacher,
Tolwyn Levison, could really see it, the legs, the musicality, the discipline.
(01:55):
She wasn't just talented, she was serious.
At nine, her training began to intensify, festivals and concerts and the like.
After school, she'd gather her friends on the lawn and conduct her own ballet classes,
leading the group, showing the steps, taking it all very seriously.
Even then, dance wasn't just something she did.
(02:18):
It was something she shared.
By the time she was twelve, she was told, "If you're serious, you need to go to Johannesburg."
That's where the real training was.
Specifically, she needed to audition for Marjorie Sturman, a teacher known for her toughness
and technical brilliance, but her mother hesitated, should she really send her daughter off
(02:40):
before finishing school.
So this mother spoke to her teacher, and this teacher did not hesitate.
She thought this little girl should go.
She was smart enough, you see, but her focus in class was always somewhere else.
Her feet were always moving under the desk the teacher would notice, quietly practicing
(03:02):
what was clearly ballet steps.
It was quite apparent to this teacher that this girl was already dancing her way out,
and so she auditioned for Sturman.
She got in, but barely.
Marjorie told her she had all kinds of bad habits that would have to be broken, but the foundation
was there, and she got to work.
(03:23):
At fourteen, she joined the core of the Johannesburg Festival Ballet.
At sixteen, she made history, the youngest dancer in South Africa to perform the Queen
of the Willis in Jezelle.
She credited her height, her elevation, and her beats, but it was more than that.
She had presence.
Still, the ceiling in South Africa was low, and so her mother told her, "If you really
(03:49):
want to make it, you'll have to go to London."
Her stepfather gave her six months of financial support.
If she hadn't found work by then, she'd have to come home.
She took the deal, and within weeks of arriving in London, she was already earning her living.
At first, it was chorus work.
She had met a few South African girls in London, and they happened to be a bit ahead of her.
(04:14):
You know, they knew the scene, the auditions, the city.
She ended up roaming with them, and they helped her find her footing.
Together, they auditioned for the Festival Ballet and got in, but only as extras.
They weren't given featured roles, but being part of the company meant they could take
class with them, and that, more than anything, was the real opportunity, daily training and
(04:36):
exposure to directors.
Still, it only got her so far.
She went to Sir Anton Dolan, the company's artistic director, and asked, "If there was
any chance, she might actually be cast in a featured role."
He told her, "No, she was too tall."
At five foot seven and a half, she was considered out of range for British Ballet at the time.
(04:59):
So when one of her friends mentioned an audition for an American musical film, she decided to
go.
The gentleman Mary Brunette's choreographed by Jack Hole and assisted by Gwen Verden.
Now she'd never done jazz, but when Cole started the audition with Ballet, well, she more
(05:19):
than kept up.
She got cast.
What she couldn't know was that Jack Hole was also testing for something else.
He was already thinking ahead to Kismet, a lavish stage musical set in ancient Baghdad, and
he was looking to see who could handle his signature blend of jazz and stylized Middle
(05:42):
Eastern movement.
She made the list.
So before Kismet came to be, and after filming, gentleman Mary Brunette's, she booked a job
at the London palladium, a 1954 holiday pantomime called Mother Goose.
Peter Sellers, still an unknown at the time, was also in the cast.
She started in the chorus, but when the lead dancer didn't work out, she and her roommates,
(06:08):
yeah, they were in that job together too, were asked to audition, and she got it, promoted
to a featured role, a real breakthrough.
She'd go on to land the role Jack Hole had remembered her for in Kismet.
She played Princess Samarice and danced a featured solo to Not Since Nineveh.
(06:28):
That show ran for nearly 20 months, and it was a turning point.
After Kismet, she booked a cabaret job in Paris through a man who had watched her ballet
classes.
This is a guy who helped dancers find work across Europe.
So she was there for a few months when a motorbike accident sidelined her, taking her out
for three full months.
(06:49):
But soon after, another opportunity came.
This time in Italy, with a touring review starring the comic Macario, and that is where
Hermes Pan, the most prolific choreographer in film history, saw her.
He had come to see the show.
See he was choreographing Cleopatra in Rome at the time, and his company knew the company
(07:11):
she was dancing with.
They all went out to dinner afterward, and by the end of the night, he told her she had
to come to America.
She really knocked me over, he later said, quote, "She's one of the greatest dancers I think
I've ever seen."
They exchanged addresses and kept in touch, and two years later, while she was working in
(07:31):
Spain, he sent word.
He was choreographing can-can for 20th century fox.
He'd been talking about her to the studio, and they were interested.
Would she send photographs?
So she literally sent everything she had, and she got the contract.
But there was one problem.
She was still under contract in Spain.
(07:54):
She was the second lead in the show, and the producers refused to let her out early.
She was ready to give up, but her boyfriend urged her to go, told her she couldn't let this
chance slip by.
Conveniently, the one flight daily to America was scheduled between her two daily performances.
(08:15):
So she danced the first show, then grabbed her passport, jumped in a cab, and headed to
the airport.
She arrived in America, but didn't know a soul in the US of A except for Hermes' pan.
He let her stay at his place while she found her footing.
On set, there was already buzz.
Hermes had talked her up to everyone, and now they were watching to see if she could deliver.
(08:40):
He asked her to open the Adam and Eve ballet in Cancan to play the bird of paradise.
In rehearsal, she lifted her leg in a slow extension, then turned pirouetted and floated off
stage.
Her line, her control, her balance, the crew, gasped, and Hermes exhaled.
She was everything he said she was.
(09:03):
Originally, she'd been cast as Celestine, but when another dancer dropped out, her role
was expanded to include Claudine, a more prominent part with even more dancing.
She now had two major solos, a featured number with Frank Sinatra, and that unforgettable
moment in blue-green snake skin, sliding down the branches of the tree of life.
(09:27):
The reviews for the film were mediocre, but she was constantly singled out.
The New York Times, for example, called her a strapping young dancer and the only one
to give some class to her role.
That was the launch pad.
She began appearing in television specials and was soon cast opposite Elvis Presley in
(09:47):
GI Blues, his first movie after returning from military service.
The film was light, even corny at times, but it was a box office smash, one of the top-grossing
movies of the year, and she made an impression.
Her poise, her presence, her chemistry with Elvis, and her dancing elevated the film.
(10:10):
Elvis noted it, audiences loved her.
Suddenly she wasn't just working, she was everywhere.
Her name was in the trades, her photo in the papers by this point, her fame was global.
And the studio took notice.
They asked her to return for Elvis's next picture, blue Hawaii.
(10:31):
She went to the costume fitting, but once she read the script, she turned it down.
The role was too thin, too generic.
There was nothing in it that built on what she had already done.
They told her to do it or face suspension.
She chose the suspension, seven weeks.
By the end, she had just a hundred dollars to her name, but she stood by the decision.
(10:56):
She went to Jack Cummings, the producer of Can Can, and asked for help.
He was working on the second time around with Debbie Reynolds.
At first, there was nothing for her.
But then he remembered a small part, a saloon girl.
He rewrote it, expanded it, even added a dance number just for her.
(11:17):
And just like that, she was back on her feet.
Soon after, she took another leap.
She was still under contract to 20th Century Fox, but she sued to break it, and she won.
It was a bold move, but one that allowed her to take control of her own career.
But came next wasn't always cinematic, but it was consistent and impactful.
(11:40):
She took on Vegas.
Her first big show in Las Vegas was Irma LaDuce at the Riviera Hotel, and it broke box
off as records.
From there, she launched her own nightclub act, played the flamingo, headlined across the
strip.
She was becoming a Vegas icon.
Then came an offer to audition for Sweet Charity, the Vegas production.
(12:03):
But this wasn't just any audition.
She had to fly to New York and walk into a room where Bob Vasi, Gwen Verden, Neil Simon
and Psy Coleman were all waiting for her.
It was the first professional audition she'd done since her early London days, and this
time, they did not need to see her dance.
(12:24):
They wanted to hear her sing and watch her act.
She did a scene with the stage manager.
That was it.
She booked it.
The charity opened at Caesar's Palace, still brand new at the time, by the way.
She performed there for six months with only one day off every two weeks.
Then she took the show to London, where she won the evening standard theater award, the
(12:48):
British equivalent of a Tony.
She went on to star in Maine, first in London, and later in Vegas and touring productions
across the US.
She took the stage opposite Rock Hudson in I Do I Do, charming critics with her timing and
grace, and reportedly quick enough on her feet to keep Hudson from stepping on hers.
(13:10):
She was the very first guest star on the pilot for the Muppet Show, chatting with Kermit
and dancing in a stunning dream-like sequence with six green gazelles.
It was whimsical, weird, charming and perfect.
She performed at President Kennedy's inauguration.
Nixon came to see her show in Los Angeles, and Reagan watched her perform if my friends
(13:35):
could see me now at the Kennedy Center.
Her ballerro number became legendary, so iconic in fact that when she performed it at the
Coconut Grove, the venue built a second stage just for that dance.
It was the first time in their history they had ever done that.
She was a regular on television, the Ed Sullivan Show, the Perry Como Show, the Sinatra
(13:58):
Specials.
By the mid-1970s, she was often introduced as one of the most famous dancers in the world.
She was everywhere, she worked hard, never stopped, and always delivered.
And in Vegas, that consistency was rewarded.
For seven years, the city hosted the prestigious Entertainer of the Year Awards, and she won
(14:20):
female entertainer of the year four times.
This is during the era of Liza Manelli, Barbara Streisand, and Shirley McLean.
She never stopped training either.
In Los Angeles, as she got older, she took ballet classes every day, often at Stanley Holden
Studio.
Many times she was decades older than anyone else in the room.
(14:44):
But her presence set the tone, a reminder to the younger dancers of what real discipline
and real passion looked like.
She became a devoted student and teacher of Bickroom Yoga.
Even during chemotherapy, she kept showing up, leading classes, inspiring everyone around
her, still moving, still reaching, always dancing.
(15:07):
Her name, Juliette Prouse.
And now you know the rest of the story.
Alright, dance fam, there we are, another episode of the rest of the story before I get
into a little bit more on Ms. Prouse.
By the way, for years I think I would pronounce her name Prouse, and I now realize I was saying
(15:27):
it wrong, it is Prouse.
Anyway, if you enjoyed, if you feel like you learned something, you were inspired by her
amazing story.
Do me a favor or do yourself a favor and subscribe, follow wherever you're watching or
listening.
Share with some people.
Let's spread the word.
Let's build this dance podcast.
Give it a like, leave a comment, it all means a lot.
(15:49):
So I always like to clarify that this series doesn't traffic in gossip, it just centers
on dance and actually, even less about the accomplishments of the performer, and I really
try to dive deep into, you know, their training, their youth and the early struggling.
You know what I'm saying?
Anyway, there are a few public moments with Ms. Prouse, acknowledged herself, that's important
(16:13):
to me.
You know, our part of her story, and I feel like I should just address a couple of them.
When Soviet leader Nikita Kuschev, if I'm saying that correctly, visited this set of Can-Can,
he famously, and this was a giant international made all the headlines, he called one of
her dances immoral.
(16:34):
And that story, yeah, I mean it made all the headlines, and it happened before the film
even came out.
So interestingly, overnight, her name was known around the world before the movie was even
in theaters.
She also had, and if you've heard of Ms. Prouse, you may know this, she had romantic ties
to two of the era's most iconic performers, Elvis Presley, and Frank Sinatra, she was
(17:00):
even briefly engaged to Sinatra, and that is a fact she addressed openly.
Contra is on record actually calling her the sexiest dancer he had ever seen.
In 1965, now all of these performers have endless credits, and inevitably people will say,
"Oh my gosh, you forgot this, you forgot that."
And I'm always like, "No, I didn't.
(17:21):
I very much pick and choose what I want to include."
And I will include that in 1965, she took a rare film role outside the studio system,
a gritty, stylized thriller called Who Killed Teddy Bear, where she starred opposite
Sal Minio.
There's even a sexy and dangerous dance scene between the two of them.
(17:44):
That movie was overlooked at the time, but later we discovered as a cult classic of underground
cinema.
I got to check that one out, it sounds really fascinating.
And before I get to my story with Ms. Prouse, I did mention in the main script that she
had chemo, and she fought really hard, and she kept dancing.
(18:05):
She was even, as I mentioned, teaching yoga during her treatment.
That's just who she was.
So she went into remission, and most people thought, "Yeah, of course, she beat it.
She was so strong, so focused, but, you know, a couple years later it did come back, and
this time it took her."
And she was only 59, gone way too young.
(18:28):
My story is, if you ever watched my The Rest of the Story on Polakelli, which I gotta tell
you, I feel like Polakelli is my angel, because that is the episode that really helped put
this series on the map.
It's the first one that really took off on YouTube.
And because of it, I doubled my subscribers, and it's really been lovely.
And I mentioned in that episode that Polakelli was a judge for a dance competition I did,
(18:55):
and I even got emotional in that episode recounting the story.
Anyway, so that competition was the music center spotlight awards in Los Angeles.
It's the most prestigious dance competition in Los Angeles.
At least it was for decades.
Misty Copeland won it, gives you an idea, you know, of the prestige behind it.
(19:16):
I performed a solo on the stage at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, and I only made the
connection later by the way after researching Polakelli that she herself performed a solo
on that very same stage for an Oscar ceremony.
Anyway, the other judge with Polakelli was Juliette Prouse.
(19:36):
There were a few other judges too, but I will do episodes on them no doubt in the future,
so I will save that information.
Prouse was always dancing, always teaching, always giving back, and just the fact that she
was a judge in this competition is just another supportive example that she was there.
She was there for younger dancers.
(19:56):
And also if you don't know this, Polakelli starred with Juliette Prouse in Sweet Sherity
in both Vegas and London.
So this episode made me think did they know that they would be judging this competition
together before the competition and talk about it?
Was it a surprise when they got there?
(20:17):
And they were like, "Oh my God, Paula, oh my God, Juliette!"
These are things I think about.
I wish I could have been a fly on the wall, but just to know that these two geniuses judged
me, watched me dance, and then selected me as the winner is just so flattering, it's such
an honor.
And anyway, I just wanted to mention that because somehow it just felt like a lovely way
(20:40):
to button this piece.
Okay, until next time.
[Music]
At her peak, she was introduced on television as one of the greatest dancers in the world,
(00:08):
and for a while, she was everywhere.
Welcome to the rest of the story, my weekly series, where I dig into the lives behind
the dance legends.
Here on my podcast, Hey Dancer, I'm your host Miller Daurey, and as per usual, this
episode is strictly dance centered.
(00:29):
There's always so much you can say, especially about today's subject.
So in the outro, I will touch on a few other aspects of her life, including the one time she
actually watched me dance.
Yeah, me.
If you're enjoying this series, you find it entertaining, educational, inspirational, make
(00:49):
sure you're subscribed or following along.
Hit that notification bell so you are alerted when a new video drops.
Give it a like, share with your dance fam, comment, it all helps a podcaster out.
Okay, let's get into it.
She was born in Bombay in 1936, the second child of an Anglo-French marriage.
(01:09):
She was only about 15 or 18 months old when her family noticed it.
She'd pull herself up to the radio, a piece of furniture that combined a radio and record
player, and bounce along to the music, totally on the beat.
This very small child was already so aware of rhythm.
(01:30):
Right from the beginning, she was always dancing.
Her father, a successful businessman, died when she was just three, not long after her mother
moved the family to South Africa, and it was there that things really began.
At four, she was enrolled in Ballet School, and by seven or eight, her first teacher,
Tolwyn Levison, could really see it, the legs, the musicality, the discipline.
(01:55):
She wasn't just talented, she was serious.
At nine, her training began to intensify, festivals and concerts and the like.
After school, she'd gather her friends on the lawn and conduct her own ballet classes,
leading the group, showing the steps, taking it all very seriously.
Even then, dance wasn't just something she did.
(02:18):
It was something she shared.
By the time she was twelve, she was told, "If you're serious, you need to go to Johannesburg."
That's where the real training was.
Specifically, she needed to audition for Marjorie Sturman, a teacher known for her toughness
and technical brilliance, but her mother hesitated, should she really send her daughter off
(02:40):
before finishing school.
So this mother spoke to her teacher, and this teacher did not hesitate.
She thought this little girl should go.
She was smart enough, you see, but her focus in class was always somewhere else.
Her feet were always moving under the desk the teacher would notice, quietly practicing
(03:02):
what was clearly ballet steps.
It was quite apparent to this teacher that this girl was already dancing her way out,
and so she auditioned for Sturman.
She got in, but barely.
Marjorie told her she had all kinds of bad habits that would have to be broken, but the foundation
was there, and she got to work.
(03:23):
At fourteen, she joined the core of the Johannesburg Festival Ballet.
At sixteen, she made history, the youngest dancer in South Africa to perform the Queen
of the Willis in Jezelle.
She credited her height, her elevation, and her beats, but it was more than that.
She had presence.
Still, the ceiling in South Africa was low, and so her mother told her, "If you really
(03:49):
want to make it, you'll have to go to London."
Her stepfather gave her six months of financial support.
If she hadn't found work by then, she'd have to come home.
She took the deal, and within weeks of arriving in London, she was already earning her living.
At first, it was chorus work.
She had met a few South African girls in London, and they happened to be a bit ahead of her.
(04:14):
You know, they knew the scene, the auditions, the city.
She ended up roaming with them, and they helped her find her footing.
Together, they auditioned for the Festival Ballet and got in, but only as extras.
They weren't given featured roles, but being part of the company meant they could take
class with them, and that, more than anything, was the real opportunity, daily training and
(04:36):
exposure to directors.
Still, it only got her so far.
She went to Sir Anton Dolan, the company's artistic director, and asked, "If there was
any chance, she might actually be cast in a featured role."
He told her, "No, she was too tall."
At five foot seven and a half, she was considered out of range for British Ballet at the time.
(04:59):
So when one of her friends mentioned an audition for an American musical film, she decided to
go.
The gentleman Mary Brunette's choreographed by Jack Hole and assisted by Gwen Verden.
Now she'd never done jazz, but when Cole started the audition with Ballet, well, she more
(05:19):
than kept up.
She got cast.
What she couldn't know was that Jack Hole was also testing for something else.
He was already thinking ahead to Kismet, a lavish stage musical set in ancient Baghdad, and
he was looking to see who could handle his signature blend of jazz and stylized Middle
(05:42):
Eastern movement.
She made the list.
So before Kismet came to be, and after filming, gentleman Mary Brunette's, she booked a job
at the London palladium, a 1954 holiday pantomime called Mother Goose.
Peter Sellers, still an unknown at the time, was also in the cast.
She started in the chorus, but when the lead dancer didn't work out, she and her roommates,
(06:08):
yeah, they were in that job together too, were asked to audition, and she got it, promoted
to a featured role, a real breakthrough.
She'd go on to land the role Jack Hole had remembered her for in Kismet.
She played Princess Samarice and danced a featured solo to Not Since Nineveh.
(06:28):
That show ran for nearly 20 months, and it was a turning point.
After Kismet, she booked a cabaret job in Paris through a man who had watched her ballet
classes.
This is a guy who helped dancers find work across Europe.
So she was there for a few months when a motorbike accident sidelined her, taking her out
for three full months.
(06:49):
But soon after, another opportunity came.
This time in Italy, with a touring review starring the comic Macario, and that is where
Hermes Pan, the most prolific choreographer in film history, saw her.
He had come to see the show.
See he was choreographing Cleopatra in Rome at the time, and his company knew the company
(07:11):
she was dancing with.
They all went out to dinner afterward, and by the end of the night, he told her she had
to come to America.
She really knocked me over, he later said, quote, "She's one of the greatest dancers I think
I've ever seen."
They exchanged addresses and kept in touch, and two years later, while she was working in
(07:31):
Spain, he sent word.
He was choreographing can-can for 20th century fox.
He'd been talking about her to the studio, and they were interested.
Would she send photographs?
So she literally sent everything she had, and she got the contract.
But there was one problem.
She was still under contract in Spain.
(07:54):
She was the second lead in the show, and the producers refused to let her out early.
She was ready to give up, but her boyfriend urged her to go, told her she couldn't let this
chance slip by.
Conveniently, the one flight daily to America was scheduled between her two daily performances.
(08:15):
So she danced the first show, then grabbed her passport, jumped in a cab, and headed to
the airport.
She arrived in America, but didn't know a soul in the US of A except for Hermes' pan.
He let her stay at his place while she found her footing.
On set, there was already buzz.
Hermes had talked her up to everyone, and now they were watching to see if she could deliver.
(08:40):
He asked her to open the Adam and Eve ballet in Cancan to play the bird of paradise.
In rehearsal, she lifted her leg in a slow extension, then turned pirouetted and floated off
stage.
Her line, her control, her balance, the crew, gasped, and Hermes exhaled.
She was everything he said she was.
(09:03):
Originally, she'd been cast as Celestine, but when another dancer dropped out, her role
was expanded to include Claudine, a more prominent part with even more dancing.
She now had two major solos, a featured number with Frank Sinatra, and that unforgettable
moment in blue-green snake skin, sliding down the branches of the tree of life.
(09:27):
The reviews for the film were mediocre, but she was constantly singled out.
The New York Times, for example, called her a strapping young dancer and the only one
to give some class to her role.
That was the launch pad.
She began appearing in television specials and was soon cast opposite Elvis Presley in
(09:47):
GI Blues, his first movie after returning from military service.
The film was light, even corny at times, but it was a box office smash, one of the top-grossing
movies of the year, and she made an impression.
Her poise, her presence, her chemistry with Elvis, and her dancing elevated the film.
(10:10):
Elvis noted it, audiences loved her.
Suddenly she wasn't just working, she was everywhere.
Her name was in the trades, her photo in the papers by this point, her fame was global.
And the studio took notice.
They asked her to return for Elvis's next picture, blue Hawaii.
(10:31):
She went to the costume fitting, but once she read the script, she turned it down.
The role was too thin, too generic.
There was nothing in it that built on what she had already done.
They told her to do it or face suspension.
She chose the suspension, seven weeks.
By the end, she had just a hundred dollars to her name, but she stood by the decision.
(10:56):
She went to Jack Cummings, the producer of Can Can, and asked for help.
He was working on the second time around with Debbie Reynolds.
At first, there was nothing for her.
But then he remembered a small part, a saloon girl.
He rewrote it, expanded it, even added a dance number just for her.
(11:17):
And just like that, she was back on her feet.
Soon after, she took another leap.
She was still under contract to 20th Century Fox, but she sued to break it, and she won.
It was a bold move, but one that allowed her to take control of her own career.
But came next wasn't always cinematic, but it was consistent and impactful.
(11:40):
She took on Vegas.
Her first big show in Las Vegas was Irma LaDuce at the Riviera Hotel, and it broke box
off as records.
From there, she launched her own nightclub act, played the flamingo, headlined across the
strip.
She was becoming a Vegas icon.
Then came an offer to audition for Sweet Charity, the Vegas production.
(12:03):
But this wasn't just any audition.
She had to fly to New York and walk into a room where Bob Vasi, Gwen Verden, Neil Simon
and Psy Coleman were all waiting for her.
It was the first professional audition she'd done since her early London days, and this
time, they did not need to see her dance.
(12:24):
They wanted to hear her sing and watch her act.
She did a scene with the stage manager.
That was it.
She booked it.
The charity opened at Caesar's Palace, still brand new at the time, by the way.
She performed there for six months with only one day off every two weeks.
Then she took the show to London, where she won the evening standard theater award, the
(12:48):
British equivalent of a Tony.
She went on to star in Maine, first in London, and later in Vegas and touring productions
across the US.
She took the stage opposite Rock Hudson in I Do I Do, charming critics with her timing and
grace, and reportedly quick enough on her feet to keep Hudson from stepping on hers.
(13:10):
She was the very first guest star on the pilot for the Muppet Show, chatting with Kermit
and dancing in a stunning dream-like sequence with six green gazelles.
It was whimsical, weird, charming and perfect.
She performed at President Kennedy's inauguration.
Nixon came to see her show in Los Angeles, and Reagan watched her perform if my friends
(13:35):
could see me now at the Kennedy Center.
Her ballerro number became legendary, so iconic in fact that when she performed it at the
Coconut Grove, the venue built a second stage just for that dance.
It was the first time in their history they had ever done that.
She was a regular on television, the Ed Sullivan Show, the Perry Como Show, the Sinatra
(13:58):
Specials.
By the mid-1970s, she was often introduced as one of the most famous dancers in the world.
She was everywhere, she worked hard, never stopped, and always delivered.
And in Vegas, that consistency was rewarded.
For seven years, the city hosted the prestigious Entertainer of the Year Awards, and she won
(14:20):
female entertainer of the year four times.
This is during the era of Liza Manelli, Barbara Streisand, and Shirley McLean.
She never stopped training either.
In Los Angeles, as she got older, she took ballet classes every day, often at Stanley Holden
Studio.
Many times she was decades older than anyone else in the room.
(14:44):
But her presence set the tone, a reminder to the younger dancers of what real discipline
and real passion looked like.
She became a devoted student and teacher of Bickroom Yoga.
Even during chemotherapy, she kept showing up, leading classes, inspiring everyone around
her, still moving, still reaching, always dancing.
(15:07):
Her name, Juliette Prouse.
And now you know the rest of the story.
Alright, dance fam, there we are, another episode of the rest of the story before I get
into a little bit more on Ms. Prouse.
By the way, for years I think I would pronounce her name Prouse, and I now realize I was saying
(15:27):
it wrong, it is Prouse.
Anyway, if you enjoyed, if you feel like you learned something, you were inspired by her
amazing story.
Do me a favor or do yourself a favor and subscribe, follow wherever you're watching or
listening.
Share with some people.
Let's spread the word.
Let's build this dance podcast.
Give it a like, leave a comment, it all means a lot.
(15:49):
So I always like to clarify that this series doesn't traffic in gossip, it just centers
on dance and actually, even less about the accomplishments of the performer, and I really
try to dive deep into, you know, their training, their youth and the early struggling.
You know what I'm saying?
Anyway, there are a few public moments with Ms. Prouse, acknowledged herself, that's important
(16:13):
to me.
You know, our part of her story, and I feel like I should just address a couple of them.
When Soviet leader Nikita Kuschev, if I'm saying that correctly, visited this set of Can-Can,
he famously, and this was a giant international made all the headlines, he called one of
her dances immoral.
(16:34):
And that story, yeah, I mean it made all the headlines, and it happened before the film
even came out.
So interestingly, overnight, her name was known around the world before the movie was even
in theaters.
She also had, and if you've heard of Ms. Prouse, you may know this, she had romantic ties
to two of the era's most iconic performers, Elvis Presley, and Frank Sinatra, she was
(17:00):
even briefly engaged to Sinatra, and that is a fact she addressed openly.
Contra is on record actually calling her the sexiest dancer he had ever seen.
In 1965, now all of these performers have endless credits, and inevitably people will say,
"Oh my gosh, you forgot this, you forgot that."
And I'm always like, "No, I didn't.
(17:21):
I very much pick and choose what I want to include."
And I will include that in 1965, she took a rare film role outside the studio system,
a gritty, stylized thriller called Who Killed Teddy Bear, where she starred opposite
Sal Minio.
There's even a sexy and dangerous dance scene between the two of them.
(17:44):
That movie was overlooked at the time, but later we discovered as a cult classic of underground
cinema.
I got to check that one out, it sounds really fascinating.
And before I get to my story with Ms. Prouse, I did mention in the main script that she
had chemo, and she fought really hard, and she kept dancing.
(18:05):
She was even, as I mentioned, teaching yoga during her treatment.
That's just who she was.
So she went into remission, and most people thought, "Yeah, of course, she beat it.
She was so strong, so focused, but, you know, a couple years later it did come back, and
this time it took her."
And she was only 59, gone way too young.
(18:28):
My story is, if you ever watched my The Rest of the Story on Polakelli, which I gotta tell
you, I feel like Polakelli is my angel, because that is the episode that really helped put
this series on the map.
It's the first one that really took off on YouTube.
And because of it, I doubled my subscribers, and it's really been lovely.
And I mentioned in that episode that Polakelli was a judge for a dance competition I did,
(18:55):
and I even got emotional in that episode recounting the story.
Anyway, so that competition was the music center spotlight awards in Los Angeles.
It's the most prestigious dance competition in Los Angeles.
At least it was for decades.
Misty Copeland won it, gives you an idea, you know, of the prestige behind it.
(19:16):
I performed a solo on the stage at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, and I only made the
connection later by the way after researching Polakelli that she herself performed a solo
on that very same stage for an Oscar ceremony.
Anyway, the other judge with Polakelli was Juliette Prouse.
(19:36):
There were a few other judges too, but I will do episodes on them no doubt in the future,
so I will save that information.
Prouse was always dancing, always teaching, always giving back, and just the fact that she
was a judge in this competition is just another supportive example that she was there.
She was there for younger dancers.
(19:56):
And also if you don't know this, Polakelli starred with Juliette Prouse in Sweet Sherity
in both Vegas and London.
So this episode made me think did they know that they would be judging this competition
together before the competition and talk about it?
Was it a surprise when they got there?
(20:17):
And they were like, "Oh my God, Paula, oh my God, Juliette!"
These are things I think about.
I wish I could have been a fly on the wall, but just to know that these two geniuses judged
me, watched me dance, and then selected me as the winner is just so flattering, it's such
an honor.
And anyway, I just wanted to mention that because somehow it just felt like a lovely way
(20:40):
to button this piece.
Okay, until next time.
[Music]
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