From state fairs to stardom

By Jerry Fink

Wednesday, Dec. 12, 2007 | 6:59 a.m.

Who: Terry Fator

When: 8 p.m. Dec. 31

Where: Las Vegas Hilton Showroom

Tickets: $39.95 to $149; 732-5755

Also: Jan. 1-19, Feb. 22-24, March 28-30, April 23-25 and May 16-18

Terry Fator swelters in the midsummer sun, nothing more than a novelty act at a state fair, part of the entertainment and the rides on the midway - the two-headed snakes, the award-winning recipes for apple pie, and Future Farmers of America exhibits.

He's a ventriloquist who not only seems to throw his voice but does it while singing impressions. He's with Walter T. Airdale, yodeling and singing Garth Brooks songs, and with Winston the Impersonating Turtle, singing like Louis Armstrong and Roy Orbison.

It's hot, dusty work on open-air stages. He asks for water, maybe some fruit to keep up his energy. He wants to smooth the sandpaper feeling in his throat and the promoter points to a stand where he can buy a $3 bottle.

"They'd say, 'Get your own dang fruit tray,' " Fator says.

He pays the price with countless nights in cheap motels, bad food and thousands of exhausting miles on endless highways.

But it's the life he loves - entertainment.

That all changed in August when Fator won on TV's "America's Got Talent," capturing the public's hearts and the $1 million prize. He also netted a $1.5 million, six-month deal with the Las Vegas Hilton.

His overnight success follows a lifelong effort.

Fator's passion to entertain dates to the fifth grade, when he ran across a book on ventriloquism and then bought a dummy. His mother, Marie, a real estate agent, adapted the dummy so it would be more animated, and he grew up entertaining family and friends.

In addition to a talent for ventriloquism, he had a decent singing voice and was able to imitate a lot of performers - James Taylor, Elvis Presley and others. When he was 20 he became the lead singer for a show band. He incorporated the impressions and, eventually, his ventriloquism in the act.

"It was a pretty successful band," the Dallas native says. "But we broke up because they didn't want me to do ventriloquism and impressions. They wanted normal music, and I said no, this is what I am, who I am, what I love. I'd be unhappy doing anything else."

He met his wife, Melinda, when he was with the band. "Friends drug her out to see the show and it was love at first sight."

They've been together 18 years, married 17, driving endless highways and country roads to fairs large and small, wondering whether they would ever find success at one of those off-ramps.

Now that he's found it, Fator, 42, savors every minute. When he asks for a couple of pieces of fruit he gets a tray with 16 varieties. When he asks for water, he finds four cases stacked backstage. Instead of paying for a room in a cheap hotel, he's given suites.

"People want to give you so much more when you're a celebrity," Fator says.

Fator's life has gone from a slow stroll down a country lane to driving a Lamborghini on the autobahn.

As he sits for an interview he screens calls on his cell phone, watches the clock to make sure he's on time for his next interview and steals bites of a turkey and cheese croissant. He eats on the run, sleeps when he can. Video movies are piling up because he and his wife don't have the time to watch. A personal assistant helps keep his life organized.

Fator is basking in the limelight, selling out shows in big air-conditioned theaters. Although there is a natural humility about him, he isn't humble about his success.

"I'm not at all uncomfortable," he says with an ever-present smile. "It's a little hard to get used to, but I've never been uneasy about the changes and being a celebrity. I worked 25 years in the trenches, playing two or three shows in the afternoon on a stage in the sun, about to pass out from heat exhaustion."

Nor is he uncomfortable with the money from the TV show, the Hilton or his new rates - up to 15 times what he used to receive for each performance.

"My whole life, my family's whole life, there's never been anyone in my family that's ever had more money than they needed," Fator says. "We're hand-to-mouth people, and suddenly I've got more money than I need, which is good. I just bought a house. It's very weird to buy a house and know you could pay the house off if you wanted to. Now I'm not saying I don't want the money - I love having the money - but for me I would trade all the money away to have the crowds, having people come to the show. It's what I've been dreaming of and longing for since I was a kid. I knew the money would come, but the money was never my motivation. The fact that I might be rich one day is never what I did this for."

When he won "America's Got Talent," his first thought was of his wife.

"I told her, 'Now I can give you the life you've always dreamed of,' and she said, 'I already have the life I've always dreamed of,' " Fator says. "And I said, 'OK, I can give you the life I always dreamed you would have.' "

His sister, Debi, also was on his mind when he won. She suffers from rheumatoid arthritis, a painful, debilitating disease. Her doctor had suggested she try a new medication on the market, but it's expensive and she couldn't afford it. "When I won she came up to hug me and I whispered in her ear, 'Call your doctor.' And she was able to get the medicine."

One person who didn't cross his mind onstage and rarely does is his biological father.

"I don't have much to do with Dad," Fator says. "He's unemployed or retired or something and living somewhere - in New York someplace, I think.

"We had a parting of the ways a few years back. He never went to anything I ever did. He wanted us to fail. He told me I was not a good singer."

For a long time Fator's drive to succeed was to prove his father wrong.

"I thought maybe one day my dad will approve of me," he says. "But finally, when I was in my late 30s, I came to the realization that it would never happen. He was never going to approve of me, so I started doing it for myself. It was a huge relief to focus on something besides my father's approval."

Fator finishes his croissant and joins Ira David Sternberg for an interview on "Lunchtime With Ira," a weekly Internet, TV and radio show. Then he rushes to more meetings before returning to Dallas, where he catches his breath before returning to Vegas for a date in early December.

The show, naturally, is sold out.

Fator steps onstage to thunderous applause. He's dressed in a slightly rumpled gray suit and a red tie. A white handkerchief peeks out of the breast pocket of the jacket.

Oddly, there aren't many children in the audience.

He wastes no time demonstrating why he won $1 million. Fator's mastery of ventriloquism techniques is phenomenal. Most of his impressions are perfect.

Fator pulls his co-stars from a trunk - longtime associates Winston, Walter T. Airdale and Emma, who does an amazing Etta James, plus relative newcomer Julius - a black puppet who brings soul to the mix. They imitate Nat King Cole and daughter Natalie singing in a duet, Maroon 5, Brooks & Dunn, the Bee Gees, Michael Jackson. It's a long list.

Fator chats with the audience and jokes with his co-stars. He closes with Winston singing Orbison's "Crying."

"My million dollar song," he says, beaming.

Fator walks offstage. The audience rises, applauds and begins to chant: "Terry ... Terry ... Terry."

A seasoned pro, Fator returns for the encore. Winston sings Louis Armstrong's "What a Wonderful World" and, because it's the holidays, "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas."

Fator is in awe of his own success and plans on being around for a long time. He's not just a novelty act or a Saturday morning kids' show or an entertainer on the midway.

Fator believes he and his cast of puppets belong on a Las Vegas marquee, up there with Celine Dion, Elton John, Lance Burton, "Mystere" and "Phantom."

"I know I have a great talent, and I've worked hard to develop the talent," he says. "I have to be careful at this point, strike while the iron's hot."

To make sure his star doesn't fade as quickly as it appeared, Fator says, he's hiring the right people, keeping his show fresh, being careful about the myriad offers coming in.

But if the success is fleeting, he can deal with it.

"As long as I keep my head on straight I don't think I need to go back," he says. "But if I do wake up and it's gone and I have to go back to the fairs, I could.

"I love what I do. I'd miss it, everything I have now. It would be difficult because I love the crowds. But if I had to go back to the fairs, if it were a choice between that and not performing at all, it'd be easy because I love to perform. That's what I live for."