By admin 
Introduction
History is written by the victors, and in the music industry, the victors are the ones singing into the microphone. But behind the blinding sequined jackets of Barry Manilow’s rise to global domination lies a quiet, devastating act of martyrdom that has never been fully appreciated. We know Barry left. But we rarely ask: Why did Susan let him?
In 1965, Susan Deixler held the power to destroy Barry Manilow before he even began.
They were legally married. She was the “perfect” wife—supportive, loving, and entirely devoted. When Barry, consumed by a “monstrous” ambition and a realization that he was too immature for domestic life, asked for an annulment, Susan could have declared war. She could have dragged him through a scandalous legal battle, demanded alimony, or forced him to choose between his vows and his music. In the conservative culture of mid-60s Brooklyn, the law and society were on her side. Barry was the villain; she was the abandoned bride.
But Susan did the unthinkable: She let go.
This wasn’t weakness; it was a staggering act of emotional intelligence. Accounts suggest that Susan saw the fire in Barry’s eyes—a desperation to create music that eclipsed his ability to be a husband. She realized that keeping him would mean caging him, and eventually, he would resent her for it. So, she swallowed the humiliation of a failed high school marriage. She accepted the annulment without a public spectacle. She took the pain of rejection and buried it, allowing Barry to walk out of that Brooklyn apartment guilt-free enough to chase his destiny.
This is the hidden tragedy of the Manilow legend. His 85 million records, the Grammys, the adoration of fans worldwide—all of it was purchased with the currency of Susan’s heartbreak. If she had fought him, if she had been vindictive, the stress and scandal might have derailed the delicate early years of his career. Instead, she gave him the greatest gift a lover can give: freedom. She became the collateral damage of his dream, the silent launchpad for a rocket that would never return to earth. Susan Deixler didn’t just lose a husband; she sacrificed her own “happily ever after” so the world could have “Mandy.”