When Cynthia Rhodes wasn’t “Staying Alive” on the dance floor with John Travolta, she was “Dirty Dancing” with Patrick Swayze.
Rhodes, who will turn 67 in November 2023, had a great career with famous dance movies from the 1980s. However, she chose to step away from the spotlight at the height of her fame.
Keep reading to find out why this talented actress, singer, and dancer retired so early!
Cynthia Rhodes was born in Nashville, Tennessee. She started her acting career with a small role in the 1980 musical fantasy film **Xanadu**, which starred the late Olivia Newton-John and Gene Kelly.
Her role as Tina Tech, a dancer in the 1983 film **Flashdance**, led to a bigger part later that year as John Travolta’s love interest in **Staying Alive**, the sequel to **Saturday Night Fever**, directed by Sylvester Stallone.
In 1987, she played her most famous role as Penny Johnson, a dance instructor at a resort hotel in **Dirty Dancing**.
In her role as Penny, Cynthia Rhodes shows off her amazing dance skills with graceful and flashy Mambo moves alongside the late Patrick Swayze. She also shares some very emotional and heartbreaking scenes with him.
Rhodes described her character Penny as having an “edge.” Penny both charmed and shocked viewers as she dealt with a difficult storyline involving a botched illegal abortion.
The film includes a socially relevant subplot about reproductive rights, with Rhodes at the center of it all. This helped position the three lead characters—Swayze as Johnny, Jennifer Grey as Baby, and Rhodes as Penny—for stardom.
“She’s from South Philly and she’s had a rough life,” Rhodes said about her character. “She’s got a sweetness about her, but it’s hidden because she’s been through a lot, and she has sort of put up a wall.” Rhodes added, “In the end, I think she finally realizes that life does go on.”
Life went on for Cynthia Rhodes, but not in the way her fans hoped.
After training for ten hours a day to prepare for her role as Penny, Rhodes found dancing to be “really hard.” She shared, “That’s why I keep saying I’m never going to dance again. I’m tired of dancing. My bones are hurting, and my back hurts all the time.” She added, “Every time I say, ‘That’s it, I don’t want to dance anymore,’ I get another film. I’m not going to turn down work! I feel very fortunate to be in films that involve dancing. But I just want a chance to do some dramatic work without dancing. Just give me a straight acting part.”
In the same year that *Dirty Dancing* was released, the 31-year-old Rhodes, who had many role options and admirers, appeared in the music video for “Don’t Mean Nothing” by Richard Marx. He is also known for the song “Right Here Waiting,” which was famously written for Rhodes in 1989.
In 1989, Rhodes married the Grammy Award-winning singer Richard Marx, and the couple welcomed their first child, Brandon, in 1990. They later had two more sons, Lucas in 1992 and Jesse in 1994.
According to Marx, Rhodes, who had previously trained for the Olympics, decided to retire in 1990 to focus on raising their children. He mentioned that this choice was also due to the “intense physical pain” her dance moves caused her.
“I thought, ‘This won’t last; she’s definitely going to want to come back to work and do films.’ But she found fulfillment in being a mom that completely overshadowed any desire she had to make movies,” Marx, now 59, explained. “Even if you’re her biggest fan, as good as you think she was as a dancer, singer, or actress, you should see her as a mom.”
Rhodes, who began dancing at just three years old, found that she was much happier being a mom and giving her body the rest it needed.
“The thing was, I used to never be sore. In fact, I was a gymnast. Now it’s frustrating… I never used to stretch, but now I have to stretch before I dance. I love to dance, but if I never did it again, I wouldn’t be sorry,” Rhodes said.
Since then, she hasn’t looked back. The last time she appeared on screen was in the 1991 film *Curse of the Crystal Eye.*
The former Hollywood starlet divorced Marx in 2014, and he married MTV’s first Latina host, Daisy Fuentes, the following year.
As for her sons, all three are following in the footsteps of their famous parents. Brandon is now a music producer and singer, while Lucas has made a name for himself as a singer and actor, appearing in TV series like *The Chicago Code*, *The Mob Doctor*, *Chicago P.D.*, and *Parenthood*. The youngest son, Jesse, has joined a metal band and is working on his own music.
Dancing requires a high level of athleticism, so while we miss seeing Cynthia Rhodes, we completely understand why she chose to leave Hollywood.
What are your favorite films featuring her?
Neighbors Made Me Put up a Fence to Hide an ‘Ugly’ Car in My Yard – A Week Later, They Begged Me to Remove It
I didn’t quite see my neighbors’ vintage ’67 Chevy Impala the same way, but to me it was more than just a rusty heap. What was supposed to be a fight over a “eyesore” developed into something none of us saw coming. It altered our peaceful suburban street in ways we never would have imagined.
My dad left me an ancient, beat-up 1967 Chevy Impala. I saw it as a project I wanted to restore and a reminder of my father, even though most people just saw it as a rusted automobile. My garage was piled high with tools and spare components, so the automobile sat in my yard. I’d been trying to save money and find time to work on it, but I knew it looked awful.
But my neighbors were far more concerned about this than I was. I was out inspecting the Impala one bright afternoon when I suddenly remembered something. Gus, my dad, was demonstrating how to change the oil. He smiled, his thick mustache twitching. “You see, Nate? It isn’t complicated science. Simply perseverance and hard work,” he had stated. A piercing voice jolted me back to reality as I was lost in thinking as I ran my fingers over the worn paint. A man leaning against a vintage car’s front end.
Please pardon me, Nate. Could we discuss about that? I turned to see my next-door neighbor, Karen, pointing disgustingly at the Impala. Hello, Karen. What’s going on?” Knowing where this was going, I asked.”That vehicle. It is aesthetically offensive. With crossed arms, she remarked, “It’s destroying the appearance of our street.” I exhaled. “I realize it appears rough right now, but I intend to fix it. It was my dad’s, but Karen cut him off, saying, “I don’t care whose it was.” It must be removed. or at the very least remain unseen. She pivoted and marched back to her house before I could reply.
As I watched her leave, I noticed a knot in my stomach. I vented to my girlfriend Heather over dinner later that night. “Do you think she’s real? “It seems as though she is unaware of the significance this car holds for me,” I remarked, picking at my salad. Squeezing my hand, Heather reached across the table. “I understand, sweetie. However, would you try working on it a little bit more quickly? simply to demonstrate to them your progress? I nodded, but I knew in my heart that it wasn’t that easy. Time was of the essence, and parts were costly.
When I returned home a week later, I discovered a notice from the city hidden beneath the wiper on my “offending” car. As I read it, my stomach fell. The general idea was to either remove the car or conceal it behind a fence. I clenched the piece of paper in my hand, feeling a surge of rage within. This was absurd. I required guidance. I picked up my friend Vince, who also loves cars. “Hey, buddy, have a moment? I’d like your opinion on something. Okay, what’s going on? Vince’s voice came across the phone crackling. I described the circumstances, becoming more irritated as I spoke. Before he spoke, Vince was silent for a while.
He spoke carefully and added, “Build the fence, but add a twist.” “What do you mean?” I curiously inquired.”You’ll discover. This weekend, I’ll be here. This will provide for some enjoyable times. Vince arrived that weekend with a truck full of paint and wood. For the next two days, we worked on erecting a towering fence to enclose my front yard. Vince told me about his strategy as we worked together. “We’re going to decorate this fence with a mural of the Impala. Every rust mark, every ding. We’ll make sure they remember the car if they decide to hide it. Loved the idea, I smiled. “Let’s get started.”On Sunday, we painted. Even though none of us was artistic, we were able to replicate the Impala on the fence really well.
For added effect, we even made some of the flaws seem worse. I was satisfied with my work when we took a step back to admire it. I decided to find out what the neighbors thought of this. It didn’t take me long to learn. There came a knock on my door the following afternoon. When I opened it, a cluster of neighbors surrounding Karen as she stood there. Their expressions were a peculiar mix of desperation and rage. “Nate, we need to talk about the fence,” Karen said in a tight voice. Hiding my delight, I leaned against the doorframe. How about it? I followed your instructions.
The automobile is now hidden.An older man called Frank, one of the other neighbors, raised his voice. We understand that we requested you to conceal the car, but this mural is simply too much, son. I arched an eyebrow. “Too much? In what way? Karen let out a deep sigh. “It’s more awful than the car itself. It appears as though you’ve transformed your entire yard into… “A show of art?” Unable to control my sarcasm, I made a suggestion. “A disgrace,” Karen firmly concluded. “We would prefer to see the actual car instead of this… monstrosity.”Maybe a little too much, I enjoyed their anguish as I crossed my arms. Now, allow me to clarify. You made me spend money on a fence after complaining about my automobile, and now you want me to pull it down? They all gave bashful nods.
After giving it some thinking, I decided to remove the fence—but only under one condition. As long as I’m working on fixing the car, you guys promise to quit whining about it. Alright?They glanced at one another before grudgingly agreeing. I could hear them whispering to each other as they left. I started tearing down the fence the following day. Some of my neighbors were seeing me work with interest. Even Tom, one of them, stopped over to talk. “I never really looked at that car before, Nate,” he remarked, pointing to the Impala. However, after getting a closer look, I can see that it has potential. Which year is it?I grinned, always up for a conversation about the car. It’s a 1967. When I was a little child, my dad purchased it. Tom gave a grateful nod. Good. My brother has a thing for vintage autos.
In the event that you require assistance with the restoration, I might contact him. I took aback at the offer. That would be fantastic. Regards, Tom. In the ensuing weeks, word of my initiative grew. To my astonishment, a number of neighborhood auto aficionados began dropping by to examine the Impala and provide guidance or assistance. I was working on the engine one Saturday morning when I heard a familiar voice behind me. “So, this is the well-known vehicle, huh?” I turned to see Karen standing there, intrigued yet seeming uneasy. I wiped my hands with a cloth and remarked, “Yep, this is her.” Karen moved in closer, staring at the motor. “I must admit that my knowledge of autos is quite limited.
How are you spending your time? Startled by her curiosity, I gave the bare outline of the project I was working on. More neighbors flocked around to listen and ask questions while we conversed. My yard quickly became the scene of an unplanned block party. A cooler full of drinks was brought out, and individuals started talking about their early automotive experiences or their recollections of owning vintage automobiles. I was surrounded by my neighbors as the sun was setting, and we were all conversing and laughing. Karen seems to be having fun as well. Looking at the Impala in the lovely evening light, it seemed better than ever, while still being rusty and battered up.
I couldn’t help but think about how much my father would have enjoyed this scene.Speaking to the group, I remarked, “You know, my dad always said a car wasn’t just a machine.” It was a narrative reimagined. Considering how many stories this old girl has brought out today, I believe he would be quite pleased. There were lifted glasses and murmurs of agreement. I noticed something as I turned to face my neighbors, who were now my pals. Despite all of the difficulty it had caused, this car had ultimately brought us all together. Though the restoration was still a long way off, I sensed that the voyage ahead would be much more pleasurable. Who knows?
Perhaps a whole neighborhood full of vintage vehicle lovers would be eager to go for a drive by the time the Impala was ready to hit the road. I lifted my cup. “To wonderful cars and good neighbors,” I uttered. Everyone applauded, and while I was surrounded by smiles and lively chatter, it occurred to me that sometimes the greatest restorations involve more than simply automobiles. They also care about the community. How would you have responded in that situation?
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