Part 1: Why Don’t We Sing This Song All Together
Ann-Margaret was dancing down the middle of Sepulveda Boulevard.
We were watching her from an overpass above. We were 17 and 19, and we had just walked out of Los Angeles International Airport in August of 1969 lugging old, battered suitcases banging against our thighs. The earlier part of the summer had been devoted to earning the expense of this first …