From PEOPLE Magazine
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Eighteen this month, in fact, which was pretext enough for an ABC special last weekend—a pseudo Friars' Roast that turned out to be more of a marshmallow toast. This is not to suggest that the network has gone sentimental. It is simple recognition that the Osmonds of Utah are commanding sexier Nielsens than any other variety show on the tube—yet on the family's own terms. Headliners Donny and Marie have not sacrificed their Mormon scruples for megasuccess. The family tithe alone reaches seven figures per annum, but numbers just as meaningful to them are the estimated 25,000 converts the Osmonds' music has brought into the church.
It hasn't hurt, exudes designer Mackie, that "Marie has the best neck since Audrey Hepburn, and great long, long legs that go on forever. Yet if things get too suggestive," he's found, "the family will step in, so we don't do that. I've made slits in her skirts, then sewn them up on my own." Likewise, though it's an accepted ritual in the music world, snorting coke is unthinkable. Marie has never even tasted Coca-Cola and still feels guilty about the time she got hung up for two weeks watching a wicked soap opera.
Chimes in Donny: "There are so many really beautiful songs with obscene lyrics it's too bad. We've changed a lot for our shows," he adds, "but we make a joke of it. Like in one song, where the line was 'wine and whiskey,' we substituted 'milk' and arranged for the band to do a double take." Donny concedes that "some people just hear our names and get turned off. But the important thing," he declares, "is that we do not compromise what we believe in."
One of those family convictions is premarital chastity, and no single-dating, giggles Marie, until she was 18. Heretofore she has been allowed to go out only in groups of four or more, and even now her courtship will not be without familial surveillance. Cracks Donny: "A guy should know five things before he dates Marie—they are Alan, Wayne, Merrill, Jay and me." He's referring to the original Osmond singing group (five of the eight brothers), and Donny adds, "For the first couple of dates you can be sure we'll be in the area checking things out."
Marie's real difficulty, she maintains, is that "a lot of guys are afraid to talk to me or only want to talk about my TV show. There are some, though, that treat me just like any other girl. Then we really have a good time—I'm insane on a date, doing crazy things like toilet-papering a friend's house and dancing in parking lots." Asked whether the boys are intimidated when it comes time to say goodnight, she notes: "Well, sometimes they're a little shy. But when they're not, you'd be surprised at what happens. I'm normal like everyone else," she smiles.
Donny's love life takes a different course. "I have some pals who keep on the lookout for girls for me," he says. "If they see one they think I'll like they arrange for me to meet her at a party. It's not a conspicuous thing—we just talk, and if we click I ask her out. The main things I look for are whether or not she is deeply religious and likes music. Without a commitment to both," he observes, "a girl would be lost in this family."
Like their older siblings, Donny and Marie plan to marry young. And they only date people who are potential mates-that is, kids who enjoy topping off a groovy evening with a chocolate malted nightcap at the local hospital cafeteria ("The best in town," says Donny). "I'm not in any rush," says Marie, "but by the time I'm 21 I'll probably want to be getting serious. Showbiz isn't for eternity; marriage is." Donny, 19, agrees, though he figures on evading the altar until he is about 23 —"but you never know, it could happen tomorrow if the right girl comes along."
Donny and Marie got into showbiz as toddlers with their older brothers on the Andy Williams Show. "Instant fame can kill you—I've seen it happen to a lot of people," Donny says seriously, "but heck, I've been in the business 17 years." What inspired their parents to encourage the kids into that world was a desire to find something that would enable the family to work together. Entrepreneurial types, George and Olive Osmond had ventured earlier into insurance, fashion and real estate. "We've had trouble over the years," says George, "but we've always been very close as a family." There has also been unflinching adherence to his strict patriarchy. The modus Vivendi around the Osmond household is: "Father isn't always right, but he's always Father."
The chain of command from Dad on down is based on seniority. Sure, Donny's soloed on 13 of the Osmond family's 25 gold records (Marie has one), but he always defers to his older brothers. The eldest two are virtually deaf and work in the Osmond merchandising empires. All the revenues generated from these enterprises are put into a shared family account. Between the Osmond housing complexes and fleets of company cars, no one takes out much more than $1,000 a month pocket and expense money.
The Osmonds' latest plunge is into a $3 million, Hollywood-quality studio in the Utah mountainlands, where Donny and Marie will complete the 11 episodes in this season's series and may shoot three movie properties. Other Osmond holdings include the largest pistachio and second largest almond spread in California's rich San Joaquin Valley; a 1,200-acre cattle ranch in Utah; a student housing complex at Brigham Young (where Donny and Marie study part-time); a tennis-racquet ball club and a huge merchandising firm that distributes everything from Modulearn student reading programs to Osmond dolls. And this month Marie's own cosmetic line hits the counters at K mart stores across the country.
Go-or-no-go decisions on such ventures are made at family breakfast meetings. Once the entire brood sequestered themselves behind closed doors for a full three hours to debate whether Marie should wear a tight leotard for a Wonder Woman sketch. The verdict: no way.
Marie admits that she loves to wear black, slinky dresses—"They make me look thinner," she says (at 5'4", she weighs all of 95 pounds). "I think the poor kid is so used to being told what to wear and do that she doesn't know what she wants," says Mackie. "I'm trying to get her to come out and have an opinion." One opinion Marie does have is that "girls don't dress up anymore." Mackie thinks she would be the perfect person to change all that, adding: "I hate it when people ask me if she will be the Cher of her generation. There will never be another Cher. Marie's not at all like the other ladies I dress," he continues. "When you're 18 you don't have to wear flash—you've got yours built in. Marie has her own future, and she's just coming into it."
