Pamper House: America As It Was Learning to Treat Itself

The term “day spa” is as much a part of the modern vocabulary as “smart phone” or “Zoom meeting,” which makes sense, because one can feel like an antidote to the others.

But the concept of a day spa was just coming into being when LIFE magazine devoted several pages in its June 4, 1952 issue to a new business called Pamper House, which was located at 5th avenue and 48th street in Manhattan.

These were the rules of the Pamper House, as described in LIFE’s story:

At this unique club, in which a yearly membership costs $1, members can take a shower, wash their hair, give themselves a manicure or a home permanent, freshen their make-up, change their clothes or just drop in to read or watch television in the modern lounge, or to rest in the quiet alcove. Each visit to Pamper House costs 25¢. A dime is the fee for almost every service or item. Five trained beauticians are on hand to give free advice about hair styling and make-up, and to help customers help themselves.

LIFE staff photographer Nina Leen documented what went on at the Pamper House. Perhaps the most interesting novelty there was a perfume vending machine in which women could pay a dime for a spritz of Chanel No. 5.

To the modern eye Pamper House looks like the first draft of a concept that has since been much refined over the years. There is plenty to recommend it, starting with the basic idea of a private enclave for women to have their needs attended to. It’s easy to envy the women who stop by for a nap after lunch. But what stands out about the Pamper House is how much members had to do for themselves. One photograph shows a member doing her own nails, with no manicurist in sight. In another photo a woman irons her own blouse—she basically looks like she’s doing housework. A modern version of Pamper House would have a lot more pampering.

Pamper House was founded by Tanya Pitt, a former French model. LIFE reported that the business at Pamper House was brisk, and that she had plans to add locations both around New York and across the country.

But that doesn’t seem to have happened. Internet searches for Ms. Pitt or Pamper House yield little more than reports about the launch of her venture, which happened to be located just a couple blocks from the old Time-Life Building and many other media outlets.

Even if Pamper House didn’t become a lasting brand, the basic impulse behind the venture was right on. We were on our way to a world where “treat yo self” has become a catch phrase. America is now home to more than 20,000 spas. In short, there are descendants of Pamper House all across the country.

Members of the Pamper House in midtown Manhattan applied cosmetics in the club’s make-up nooks, 1952.

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At the Pamper House in New York, some women stopped by for a quick nap after lunch, 1952.

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Women relaxed at Pamper House, a midtown Manhattan club that catered to working women and suburban housewives, 1952.

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This vending machine at the Pamper House in midtown Manhattan dispensed perfume at a nickel per spray, 1952.

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Using the hair dryers at Pamper House in New York City cost ten cents for fifteen minutes, 1952.

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Members of the Pamper House in midtown Manhattan paid ten cents to use the shower, plus another ten cents if they needed a towel, 1952.

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A member of the Pamper House in Rockefeller Center, NYC, got her hair done by one of the staff beauticians, 1952.

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Members of the Pamper House in midtown Manhattan enjoyed a snack while their hair was setting, 1952.

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Two members of the Pamper House in Rockefeller Center in New York enjoyed a conversation, 1952.

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A member of the Pamper House in Rockefeller Center in New York stopped by to iron her own blouse, 1952.

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A member of the Pamper House in Rockefeller Center, NYC, gave herself a manicure, 1952.

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A member of the Pamper House in Rockefeller Center, NYC, washed her hair in the shampoo booth, 1952.

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Using the lockers at Pamper House in New York City cost ten cents a day, 1952.

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Tanya Pitt, a French former model, was the founder of the Pamper House in midtown Manhattan, 1952.

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Francis Ford Coppola On The Rise, 1967

In 2024 Francis Ford Coppola released the movie Megalopolis, an idiosyncratic epic which may end up serving as a capstone to one of the great careers of cinema.

Now he is seen is a legendary director, but Coppola was still in his formative years in 1967 when he was captured at work by LIFE photographer Bill Ray on the set of his third feature-length film and biggest production to that point, a musical called Finian’s Rainbow. It all happened by accident—Ray was actually on set to photograph the film’s star, Petula Clark, the British singer and actress.

This was five years before Coppola released The Godfather in 1972. At the time he was enough of an unknown that the theatrical trailer for Finian’s Rainbow didn’t even mention Coppola’s name despite its going on for nearly three minutes. Finian’s Rainbow was an adaption of a 1947 Broadway musical built around the fanciful story of a leprechaun and his pot of gold, and it starred Clark and also Fred Astaire. Today the movie, a mix of fantasy and reality, is mostly of note to cinephiles because of the man who directed it.

In an interview with Turner Classic Movies, Coppola talked about the connections he made on the set of Finian’s Rainbow. He got on well with Clark—Ray’s photos show the two of them enjoying relaxed conversation on set. Coppola says he told Clark about his ambition to make movies that were more personal to him than Finian’s Rainbow, for which he was more of a hired hand, and the pop star said she would be open to financing those ventures. Coppola also developed a lasting relationship with Fred Astaire. In the TCM interview Coppola recalled how in 1979 he and Astaire went to the movies together to see Hair after Astaire, having come away unimpressed by a first viewing, thought Coppola might help him appreciate the film better.

During the filming of Finian’s Rainbow Coppola also made a connection that is one of the most momentous in film history, but which was unfortunately not captured by Ray’s photographs. On the set of Finian’s Rainbow, Coppola was shadowed by a young production assistant named George Lucas, and it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Coppola would later produce Lucas’ 1973 breakout feature film American Graffiti, and after that the next film Lucas made was Star Wars.

So in short, you had the brains behind two of the most significant movies ever made walking around together on the set of this forgettable musical. In 2024 Coppola, while presenting Lucas with an honorary award at the Cannes Film Festival, shared a memory of their work on Finian’s Rainbow. “Pleased to have someone in my own generation, I suggested he come every day, but only on one condition: That he come up with a brilliant suggestion every day, which he consistently did,” Lucas said. “And with that began an association that has lasted a lifetime.”

It shows: You never know what’s going to turn out to be important.

Petula Clark (right) talking with director Francis Ford Coppola (center) on the set of Finian’s Rainbow, 1967.

Bill Ray/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Petula Clark (right) talking with director Francis Ford Coppola (center) on the set of Finian’s Rainbow, 1967.

Bill Ray/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Director Francis Ford Coppola spoke with actors Petula Clark and Fred Astaire during the production of the musical Finian’s Rainbow, 1967.

Bill Ray/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Director Francis Ford Coppola spoke with actors Petula Clark and Fred Astaire during the production of the musical Finian’s Rainbow, 1967.

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Petula Clark walked with director Francis Ford Coppola (center) on the set of the musical Finian’s Rainbow, 1967.

Bill Ray/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Petula Clark spoke with director Francis Ford Coppola on the set of the musical Finian’s Rainbow, 1967.

Bill Ray/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Petula Clark spoke with director Francis Ford Coppola on the set of the musical Finian’s Rainbow, 1967.

Bill Ray/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Petula Clark (right) spoke with director Francis Ford Coppola (center) on the set of the musical Finian’s Rainbow, 1967.

Bill Ray/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Petula Clark (right) spoke with director Francis Ford Coppola (center) on the set of the musical Finian’s Rainbow, 1967.

Bill Ray/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Petula Clark spoke with director Francis Ford Coppola on the set of the musical Finian’s Rainbow, 1967.

Bill Ray/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Petula Clark spoke with director Francis Ford Coppola on the set of the musical Finian’s Rainbow, 1967.

Bill Ray/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

The First Beagles Whose Ears LBJ Just Had to Tug

Early in his first term as president, Lyndon B. Johnson found himself caught up in a scandal involving his family’s beagles, named Her and Him. The trouble started when the President was welcoming a group of business leaders at the Rose Garden, and he lifted one of the family pets by its ears, causing the dog to cry out. Johnson then commented, “It does them good to let them yelp.”

The ear-pulling was captured by an Associated Press photographer, and plenty of dog lovers became upset at the President. At this link you can see the photo, as well as audio of Johnson talking about how a senator brought up the ear-pulling during negotiations with Congress over the Civil Rights Act of 1964.

After that incident Johnson’s beagles soon appeared on the cover of LIFE’s June 19, 1964 issue. The story aimed to show that, despite the ear-pulling incident, Her and Him were enjoying life under the Johnson Administration. “Not many dogs have been privileged to shoo birds off the White House lawn, get underfoot at a cabinet meeting or mingle with dignitaries at a State Ball,” LIFE wrote. “Certainly no dogs in all the world have the Bouquet Room as their private boudoir.”

LIFE staff photographer Francis Miller was given great access to Him and Her, and he came to the White House prepared to make the most of it. An animal lover himself, Miller brought a full assortment of treats and amusements to get the beagles on his side. Here’s how LIFE described the shoot:

Too wise in the ways of puppies to believe that affection alone would produce good photographs, Miller stretched himself out on the White House lawn, alternately barked like a dog, tossed a bone in the air, plied the beagles with his Yummies, huffed into the harmonica and joggled the toy bird in his left hand. This left him free to shoot the cover with his right hand and his right eye.

The story stated that Him and Her were primarily the pets of LBJ’s daughter Luci, who was 16 years old at the time. And she was not the beagles’ only caretaker. Miller took several photos of the dogs in the company of Thraphes Bryant, who in addition to being the White House electrician helped look after the dogs.

The affection between Bryant and the beagles was clear in Miller’s photos. And Bryant tended to many First Dogs during his career. He would write a memoir about it, titled “Dog Days at the White House: The Outrageous Memoirs of the Presidential Kennel Keeper.”

President Lyndon B. Johnson’s pet beagles, Him and Her, on the White House lawn, 1964.

Francis Miller/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Him and Her, pet Beagles of President Lyndon B. Johnson, sitting together on lawn of White House, 1964.

Francis Miller/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Him and Her, pet Beagles of President Lyndon B. Johnson, in a White House sitting room, 1964.

Francis Miller/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

President Lyndon B. Johnson, along with his daughter Luci Baines Johnson (left) and her friend Warri Lynn Smith (center), played with the family beagles, 1964.

Francis Miller/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

President Lyndon B Johnson’s beagles at the White House, 1964.

Francis Miller/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Lyndon Johnson’s beagles, Him and Her, at the White House, 1964.

Francis Miller/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Him and Her, the beagles belonging to the Lyndon B. Johnson family, made sport of an old overshoe in the White House living quarters, 1964.

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Lyndon Johnson’s beagles, Him and Her, at the White House, 1964.

Francis Miller/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Thraphes Bryant, in addition to being White House electrician, helped care for the beagles of Lyndon B. Johnson, 1964.

Francis Miller/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

White House electrician Thraphes Bryant helped care for LBJ’s beagles, 1964.

Francis Miller/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Thraphes Bryant, in addition to being White House electrician, helped care for the beagles of Lyndon B. Johnson, 1964.

Francis Miller/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

LIFE photographer Francis Miller took photos of President Lyndon B. Johnson’s beagles, Him and Her, on the White House lawn, 1964.

Francis Miller/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Wild and Frozen: Minnesota at Its Coldest and Most Remote

Today Alaska holds a well-earned place in the American imagination as the country’s final frontier, and a host of reality shows use the 49th state as a backdrop for its rugged adventures.

In 1950, eight years before Alaska officially joined the union, LIFE took its readers to the what was then America’s northernmost territory—a chilly and remote part of Minnesota known as Northwest Angle. This patch of land seems like it should really be part of Canada—it does connect with the rest of The Gopher State by land and has physical borders with Manitoba and Ontario. Northwest Angle is only part of the U.S. because people got confused while the details of the U.S.-Canada border were being negotiated.

If you’ve never heard of the Northwest Angle, you’re not alone. LIFE began its 1950 story by explaining just what this place was, and what life was like there:

Jutting out like a tiny bell tower at the top of Minnesota is a strip of woodland-and-lake wilderness called the Northwest Angle. … Its inhabitants, cut off from the rest of the U.S. by the 1,500-square mile Lake of the Woods, are an isolated, frontier people. For a brief period during the summer they live in a paradise of thick green forests and deep blue lakes. They hunt, fish, eat wild berries and trap for lynx. But when the long winter sets in, they live in an inhospitable land which is more like Siberia than the U.S. Blizzards roar down out of the North. The temperature drops to 50 degrees below zero, cold enough to split the logs of a cabin. Even on warmer days it seldom gets to more than 20 below zero.

In 1950 this isolated piece of America was out there in more ways than one. “The Angle has no telephones, roads, telegraph, movies, churches or doctors,” LIFE wrote. “The log homes have neither running water nor plumbing. The main meat dish is venison.”

The frontier aspects of the Northwest Angle were a large part of its appeal to residents, most of whom were living there by choice. They had vacationed there during the summer and fallen in love with the place.

The photos by George Silk capture the unique way of life in Northwest Angle. Women made their own butter in hand-cranked churns, and gathered for quilting bees for amusement. Residents traveled in horse-drawn sleighs to collect firewood. Kids amused themselves by playing tag in the deep snow. One man described as a “hermit” spent his winters reading the Congressional Record.

The winters drove most residents indoors. The attitude of the locals, LIFE wrote, was “They don’t particularly like the winters, but they don’t dislike them either.”

The reward for enduring the winter, as they saw it, came when the snow thawed, the geese returned, and the Northwest Angle became an outdoor paradise. LIFE wrote, “Then the citizens of the Angle tell each other that there is no other place on earth where they could enjoy so good a life at so little cost.”

Men cross a frozen lake in a horse-drawn sleigh while on a firewood-gathering expedition. Because the Northwest Angle has no roads, gathering firewood can actually be easier when the lake is frozen..

George Silk/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Twelve-year old David Colson of Northwest Angle, Minnesota, photographed after walking home two miles from school, 1950.

George Silk/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Two boys and a girl hid up to their necks in a snowdrift, nibbling at the snow.while playing a game of tag in Northwest Angle, Minnesota, 1950.

George Silk/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Scenes of wintertime in remote Northwest Angle, Minnesota, 1950.

George Silk/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Twevle-year-old David Colson rode a cow to get water from a hole drilled through ice in the lake in Northwest Angle, Minn., 1950.

George Silk/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Mrs. Joe Risser of Northwest Angle, Minn., carried in wash that had frozen on the line, 1950.

George Silk/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Mrs. Edison Risser used a hand-operated butter-making machine like virtually every other family did in Northwest Angle, Minnesota, 1950.

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Postmaster Jake Colson ran the smallest post office in the U.S in a six-by-four-foot corner of Northwest Angle’s general store; only twelve homes received mail up there.

George Silk/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Eli Olson, a reclusive trapper and 34-year resident of Northwest Angle, Minnesota, liked to read the Congressional Record during the winter, 1950.

George Silk/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A women carefully wove a rug during the extremely cold winter months in Northwest Angle, Minnesota, 1950.

George Silk/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Grandfather Oscar Risser whittled while his grandchildren watched during a long winter in Northwest Angle, Minnesota, 1950.

George Silk/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Kids in Northwest Angle, Minnesota, generally took baths once a week, on Saturdays, during the winter.

George Silk/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Quilting bees like this one were a popular winter pastime in Northwest Angle, MInnesota, 1950.

George Silk/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A winter quilting bee in Northwest Angle, Minnesota including a break for a two-hour lunch that featured chicken, baked beans, canned vegetables and pie, 1950.

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Newlyweds Sid and Skippy Hanson, ages 23 and 19, struggled to keep their cabin warm enough over the winter in Northwest Angle, Minnesota, 1950.

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Two Canadians braved the wind and snow to come into Northwest Angle, Minnesota, to buy provisions, 1950.

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A dog made its way through three-and-a-half feet of snow In Northwest Angle, Minnesota, 1950.

George Silk/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A lone lighthouse sat amid a stark frozen landscape during winter in Northwest Angle, Minnesota, 1950.

George Silk/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Oh, To Be Young and in Aspen

In 1971 LIFE reported from Aspen, where young people in search of adventure were moving to the Colorado resort town. What’s more, there was a demographic wrinkle—a majority (about 60 percent) of those new arrivals were women. That stat inspired a fun and feminine photo shoot from LIFE staff photographer John Dominis.

The stars of the shoot were all women in their 20s who had come to the mountains to live the ski life.

Of course, dreams are often tempered by reality. The story, headlined “A Very Nice Kind of Ski Bum,” neatly summed up both the allure and the pitfalls of a move to Aspen:

They consider a skier’s life not to be a parenthetical experience but a real alternative to urban existence, one free from frustration, noise and the frustration of having to choose between marriage and a less than satisfying job. The only problem with Aspen is finding a way to survive.

In 1971 Aspen was not quite the playground for the rich that it is today (that status really took root in the 1980s), but the transition was in process, and it was being felt by the town’s working class. “Housing is practically non-existent and prices are tourist-level high,” LIFE wrote. One of the women in the Dominis photo essay said that she needed to work so many hours as a hotel maid to support herself that she barely had time to ski. Still, overall, the story painted a romantic picture of the adventure they had embarked on: “The women figure, why wait until you’re 40 to have fun.”

One of Dominis’ photos shows four young women sharing a one-bedroom apartment. That apartment certainly wouldn’t make it into the kind of stories you can find today on Aspen’s luxury homes—but it is a certain kind a paradise. Sure, it’s a mess, and the quarters are cramped. But the women don’t seem to care. It can be that way when you are taking a stab at living your dream.

These four women shared a one-bedroon apartment in Aspen, Colo., 1971

John Dominis/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Sue Smedstad, who had come to Aspen six years previous, received a free ski pass as one of the perks of her job as statistician for the Aspen Skiing Corp., 1971.

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Sue Smedstad drover her friends in her jeep as they searched for good snow in Aspen, 1971.

John Dominis/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Women tubed in Snowmass Mountain, Aspen. Colo., 1971.

John Dominis/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Lyn Carlson came to Aspen, Colo., from Lousville, Ky., and supported herself by working the doors at an apres-ski club, 1971.

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Gail Ramsey moved from Wisconsin to Aspen to sing in a nightclub, but after her band broke up she ended up tending bar, 1971.

John Dominis/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Lisa Brooks, 24, came to Aspen for the ski life, but she made so little in her job as a chambermaid that she couldn’t do much skiing, 1971.

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Leslie Smith, 25, came to Aspen and started her own store, the Birdog Trading Co., when she found that employment opportunities were scarce, 1971.

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Carolyn Zinke, came to Aspen from Wisconsin with a teaching degree and, after a few years in the resort town she was proficient enough to gain work as a ski instructor, 1971.

John Dominis/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

From a 1971 story on the many young women who moved to Aspen, Colo., to live and work

John Dominis/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Phyllis Garrett, 21, lived in a one-room mountain cabin after following her sister to Aspen, Colo., 1971.

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Dawn Clark left a college study tour in Hong Kong to live the ski life in Aspen, 1971.

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Sandy Sollitt, 22, came to Aspen, Colorado from Chicago to enjoy the ski life, 1971.

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From a LIFE story on young women enjoying the ski life in Aspen, Colorado, 1971.

John Dominis/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

From a 1971 story on the many young women who moved to Aspen, Colo., to live and work.

John Dominis/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

From a 1971 story on the many young women who moved to Aspen, Colo., to live and work.

John Dominis/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A 1971 LIFE story documented the influx of young women who had moved to Aspen, Colorado to live, work and ski.

John Dominis/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A Healing Return: Marlene Dietrich Goes Back to Germany, 1960

Marlene Dietrich was born in Germany and began her show business career there, but she moved to Hollywood in 1930, and after her home country fell under the rule of Adolph Hitler, the star of The Blue Angel renounced her German citizenship and became a U.S. citizen.

Not only that, but Dietrich became an activist, giving financial aid to Jewish refugees and others escaping from The Third Reich. The actress, one of the biggest stars of her day, bluntly declared “Hitler is an idiot” in an interview with British radio. And when America joined World War II, Dietrich toured America to help sell war bonds, raising money for the fight against her homeland.

Dietrich also joined in U.S.O. tours during World War II, performing before American troops in Italy, the Netherlands and other locations. Late in the war she actually ventured into Germany, not far from the fighting, in the company of General George Patton. When asked why she took such a risk, she replied, “Out of decency.”

Dietrich’s stand against Nazism places her on the right side of history. Still, in 1960, when she took her stage show to Germany to perform in her home country for the first time since 1931, some ideologues bristled at her presence.

Here’s how LIFE reported on Dietrich’s return:

When Marlene Dietrich announced this spring that she was going back to sing in Germany for the first time in 29 years, there was an outcry from German extremists who called Marlene a traitor for having renounced her country….Wrote one angry nationalist, “This is impudence. We shall give her the proper German reception.”

But it turned out that most Germans were happy to welcome Dietrich. The images from LIFE photographer James Whitmore capture the scene. “On the streets of West Berlin where her German tour began, Marlene was greeted with real warmth and affection,” the magazine wrote.

Dietrich played her opening show before a packed crowd of 1,800 and delighted the audience with signature songs such as “Falling in Love Again” and “Makin’ Whoopee.”

LIFE’s story concluded, “After 18 curtain calls there was no doubt on either side of the footlights that Marlene and her homeland were at peace again.”

Actress Marlene Dietrich (left) greeted old friends in West Berlin in 1960 when she came for her first performance in Germany in 29 years.

James Whitmore/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Actress Marlene Dietrich (right) was greeted by crowds in 1960 when she came for her first performance in Germany in 29 years.

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Crowds awaited Marlene Dietrich in 1960 when she came back for her first performance in Germany in 29 years

James Whitmore/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Marlene Dietrich met with the press in 1960 before her first performance in Germany in 29 years

James Whitmore/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Actress Marlene Dietrich (left) visited with Mayor Willy Brandt of West Berlin in 1960 when she came back for her first performance in Germany in 29 years

James Whitmore/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Marlene Dietrich rehearsed for her first show in Germany after a 29-year absence from performing in her homeland, 1960.

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Marlene Dietrich performed the song “Makin’ Whoopee” during rehearsal on stage for her first performance for a German audience in 29 years at the Titania Palast, 1960.

James Whitmore/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Marlene Dietrich (center) performing during her return to Berlin in 1960 for her first performance in Germany in 29 years.

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Actress Marlene Dietrich during her return to native Germany in 1960 for her first performance there in 29 years.

James Whitmore/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

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