She was once “Elvis’s girl,” the dancer with the perfect legs who became a star in comedies like “Tootsie” and “Young Frankenstein.” In 2003, she appeared before the U.S. Congress, leaning on a walker—multiple sclerosis had stolen her effortless grace. She began with a joke: “I used to be a high-kicking showgirl. Now I’m a low-kicking showgirl in orthopedic shoes. Less sexy, but the support is fabulous!” When the senators chuckled, her face turned serious. “And now for the real joke,” she said. “The disease is killing us. But the cost of the medicine is killing us faster.” A deafening silence fell over the room. And that silence was louder than any applause. On that day, funding for MS research was increased by $25 million. The woman who had spent her life making people laugh had, in one single day, made them cry. And in doing so, she changed the world.
High Kicks to Changing the World
Teri Garr was once Hollywood’s golden girl—the dazzling dancer known as “Elvis’s girl,” with legs that seemed to defy gravity in films like Tootsie and Young Frankenstein. Her comic timing and radiant energy made audiences roar with laughter for decades.
By 2003, multiple sclerosis had reshaped her life. The disease robbed her of the effortless grace that defined her career, forcing her to lean on a walker just to stand.
Yet when she appeared before a U.S. Congressional committee to advocate for MS research funding, she didn’t ask for pity. She started with humor, her trademark weapon: “I used to be a high-kicking showgirl,” she said with a grin. “Now I’m a low-kicking showgirl in orthopedic shoes. Less sexy, but the support is fabulous!”
The room of senators chuckled—until her expression shifted.
“And now for the real joke,” she continued, voice steady. “The disease is killing us. But the cost of the medicine is killing us faster.”
A heavy silence fell. No laughter now. Just the weight of truth.
That day, Congress increased funding for multiple sclerosis research by $25 million—a direct result of one woman’s courage to blend humor with raw honesty.
Teri Garr spent her life making people laugh. But in that pivotal moment, she made them feel—and act. She proved that vulnerability paired with wit can move mountains where tears alone might fail.
Her legacy isn’t just in the roles she played, but in the lives she helped save long after the cameras stopped rolling. Sometimes, the most powerful performances happen off-stage, when someone turns personal pain into purposeful fire.
