If she had just played along, if she had just mellowed out and gone with the smiley-faced hedonism of the times, things would have worked out differently for Marie Osmond. She'd probably be the answer to a '70s schlock-culture trivia question by now - another piece of celebrity fallout from the bell-bottom-and- puka-shell era. But it seems Osmond was always looking one step ahead of the game.
Back when much of teen America was gorging on a bacchanalian diet of recreational drugs and zipless sex, she remained as straight as a stretch of Utah desert highway. Ten years later, when other former teen idols started turning up by the dozens on daytime talk shows to wax pathetic about drug woes and career crashes, Osmond wasn't around to say, "I told you so." By then she was already well into a second career as a country singer - just as the country wave was about to break.Now, Osmond is taking the first exploratory step into what could be her third show-business career in as many decades. Her first attempt at live theater, a new touring production of the venerable Rodgers and Hammerstein musical "The Sound of Music," opened recently at the Orpheum Theater in San Francisco. The production, directed by Oscar Hammerstein II's son James, features Osmond in the Maria role made famous by Julie Andrews and Mary Martin a generation ago.
During a brief stopover at San Francisco International Airport last week, Osmond talked about her family, her public image and her three decades in show business. At 34, she is a strikingly good-looking, outspoken and eminently likable person - a far cry from the saccharine princess she often appeared to be on the small screen.
Osmond and her passel of singing siblings were about two decades ahead of their time when it came to promoting clean-and-sober, family-comes-first values. The squeaky-clean act is no act at all for the Osmonds. And after thousands of interviews, this is one topic that still gets her flapping like a bat out of heck.
"Squeaky clean?" she says, eyes widening as she leans across the boardroom table toward her interrogator. "In general I am what people perceive me to be. But this is what I say when you say `squeaky clean': I have worked very hard in my life. I learned a very strong work ethic very young. In the '70s when everybody was doing drugs and getting drunk and burning out, I believed strongly in taking care of yourself. So now in the '90s, I guess I would be considered really cool."
She pauses for effect, then bursts into laughter, flashing a good dozen of those famous whiter-than-white teeth. "I mean - c'mon! If `squeaky clean' means you try really hard to have a good family life, to have a strong work ethic and to be honest in your dealings with people then call me squeaky clean."
Osmond was working at a 200-show-a-year pace on the country circuit, playing amphitheaters and county fairs opening for middle-of-the-road country acts, when the producers of "The Sound of Music" pitched the venture to her last fall. Although the show's been on the road through five cities in the past eight weeks, Osmond says it's just now settling into its stride after a shotgun start.
Osmond had three weeks to prepare for the role before the show opened in Baltimore. And after a week's run there, Keir Dullea, who played Capt. Von Trapp, was replaced by William Guittard, who'd played the role in a recent New York City Opera production. "In between Baltimore and here, there were lots of changes so hopefully you guys will get to see the final version," she says.
The idea of putting a member of one of America's most durable entertainment clans in a play about another famous performing family (the Von Trapps) could probably be characterized as a slam-dunk piece of casting. "I'm sure most people in the audience will see the parallels. You know, initially I wondered, Is this going to be just too cute? But it's not. There are a lot of subtleties there. And for Maria to take on seven children, she must have some real strong feelings about life. She's a very powerful character."
Osmond says the biggest challenge in making the transition from country music to musical theater was adjusting her vocal style. "This is a different way of articulating for me, and I studied with a voice coach to get my diaphragm in shape. The singing style is very different. Rodgers and Hammerstein created a very pure sound."
Although the show's original Broadway cast album and the 1965 film version starring Andrews are American popular culture classics in their own right, Osmond is unconcerned about the possibility her work may be measured against previous performances by Martin and Andrews. "When I asked the producers if I should watch the movie again, they said, `No, let's just do it how you feel Maria should be.' Hopefully, everybody brings their own personality to the role. I'm not Mary Martin or Julie Andrews."
By the time Andrews took her celebrated romp through the edelweiss, Osmond was already in show business. Her career began at age 3 when television variety show host Andy Williams hoisted her on his knee and introduced her as "the youngest Osmond Brother." Full-time stardom came eight years later when her first country recording, "Paper Roses," went to No. 1 on the Billboard country singles chart. The song was the first debut by a female artist ever to go to No. 1 on that chart.
No matter what Osmond does as an adult, millions of people around the world will probably always think of her as the ever-smiling, often dippy teen who ruled Friday night television alongside her equally dippy brother through most of the mid-70s. "The Donny and Marie Show" - a variety production that was heavy on middle-of-the-road pop and comedy skits - ran for five years on ABC-TV.
Osmond remembers it as the best education she could have possibly had as a performer. "We played everything - every musical style, every imaginable character. It was a lot of 18-hour days six days a week, and some weeks when they'd tape two shows, it'd mean memorizing 700 pages of script. You just knuckle down and do it. I had no idea what I was doing when I was 15. I was so stressed to learn everything, I didn't give the bigger picture any thought. It was very hard to grow up on national television. And I just was really grateful to get through every day. I had no idea that show was over into Asia and Europe and Central America. I had no idea at all."
She and her siblings are some of the few people who can honestly say they understand the price "The Partridge Family" cast, the Jackson brothers and the "Brady" kids paid for early stardom. Twice, she diplomatically sidesteps questions about how she and her family emerged from the spotlight relatively unscathed when so many of their onetime peers grew up to be troubled adults.
"It was a lot of luck and a lot of hard work," she explains.
But what of Michael Jackson going on national television to say he had his childhood stolen from him? She draws a deep breath and lets it out slowly.
"I remember Donny and Michael goofing around in hotel rooms, waving to throngs of girls jammed into the street below. I think the difference is I really believe in being a positive person. I could look back on my life and think of all the things that could have been a drag, too. But I would rather look at the positive. How many people got to work with Groucho Marx and Lucille Ball and John Wayne? How many people got to learn from their experience?"
She laughs at the suggestion that at age 34 she's already on her second generation of fans. "I think it could actually be three generations. Because `The Andy Williams Show' brought in a much older demographic. The older fans remember me as a little kid. Then they brought their kids to see my brothers in the '70s. And now the kids are bringing their kids. Do you know I sell dolls on QVC (televised shopping service)? It's really hysterical because now a lot of the little kids who come to me after the shows know me as the doll lady on QVC."
Osmond's own four children travel with her most of the time. Her eldest son, 10-year-old Stephen, plays one of the Von Trapp kids in "The Sound of Music." When asked if she would encourage her own children to pursue performing careers, she doesn't hesitate: "I think it's a great experience. If they really love it and they have the ability and the desire, I don't think you should stop them. That doesn't mean I wouldn't encourage Stephen to pursue sports, the professions, whatever. He could be a singing doctor."