STRAIGHT TALK By Jeffrey Zaslow Issue date: May 30 - June 1, 1997 The younger Iglesias is red-hot: Sold 5 million copies of Vivir, his second album, in one week; won '97 Grammy for Best Latin Pop Performance. Spectacular stage show: Rides atop a giant crane, but resists wearing a safety belt. "If I have to die, I'd love to die in concert. I'd die happy." No plans: To record a duet with his father. His dream duet partner? Michael Jackson. "When I was a kid, he came to my dad's house and stayed in the room next to me." Enrique Iglesias "If you have kids, be there for them," says the Latin pop star, whose dad, Julio, was always on the road. t's 1:30 a.m. in a hotel suite in El Paso, and Enrique Iglesias knows better than to throw his shirt out the window. He'd like to accommodate the shrieking throng of girls 17 floors below, but it wouldn't be wise: "In Argentina, I threw out my pants and shirt, and people got hurt and trampled. It was crazy. I'll never do that again." At 22, Julio Iglesias' handsome son is the world's hottest Latin pop star. Hours earlier, he gave an impassioned concert for 14,000 screaming, weeping fans, thousands of whom mobbed the stage door after the show. Police had to link arms and use screeching bullhorns to hold them back. Think Beatlemania in Spanish.Now safely in his hotel, Iglesias is catching up with his dear friend and supporter Elvira Olivares. She was his nanny after he moved to Miami from Spain at age 8. His father was always on the road; his mother, a Madrid journalist, wasn't around. He and Olivares have remained close. To thank her, he dedicated his first album to her. "She's given me so much, I should dedicate every album to her. Sometimes you've got to show that if it wasn't for a certain person, you wouldn't be where you are." Until Iglesias had a record deal, his long-divorced parents didn't even know he could sing. He first auditioned as Enrique Martinez, and confided only in Olivares. "When I was 7, I'd kneel in bed and pray I'd be a singer. But I'd never have made it if I'd told my parents. If I'd heard anything negative, I wouldn't have been able to stand it." Having grown up admiring his father from a distance, Iglesias is now a passionate advocate for children. (His dad would not comment for this article.) "If you have kids," he says, "you've chosen a responsibility. Be there for them. Don't leave them." I left my own kids back East to come interview him. "Get a flight at 7 in the morning," Iglesias says. "Go see them." Advice from Iglesias Don't assume he's like Julio: "My father's a playboy. If he's getting chicks, I'm happy. But it's not the kind of life I'd follow. I love women -- they're my biggest inspiration -- but I can't be in a room surrounded by girls. If I have a girl, it's just that one." You needn't be Don Juan: Before he became a sex symbol, "I wasn't a major reject, but I was rejected enough to get hurt a bunch of times. That's OK. There's someone for everyone. Wait -- it'll happen." Why "girls"? His dad sang To All the Girls I've Loved Before. "It's OK to say 'girls.' Women want to be called girls. You can't say, 'To all the old ladies I've loved before.' " Advice from Dad? "He never really gave me advice. I just saw him work hard. Hard work helped him advance from a little house to a bigger house to an even bigger house, from a bus to a plane to his own plane." Seize the moment: "I'm playing big arenas because I can fill them up. Maybe next year I won't be able to. So I'm doing it now. That's the whole point of life: Seize the moment." To protect your voice: "Eat a lot of pizza. When your mouth is full, you don't talk as much; your voice doesn't get tired." Zaslow is an advice columnist for the Chicago Sun-Times. |