The Tragic Downfall of The Singing Nun After Her Massive Hit

The Tragic Downfall of The Singing Nun After Her Massive Hit

When people bring up the Singing Nun, and in my life they do quite often, you might remember the 1963 hit song “Dominique,” which was number one on the American charts for four weeks, outselling Elvis Presley and beating the Beatles to the number one spot. It wasn’t until about a month later that the Beatles hit America. You might also remember the 1966 film starring Debbie Reynolds, a very light-hearted film sold as sort of the biopic of the Singing Nun. But it was 1966, and we all know that that really wasn’t the way it was. It was just the time.

I have to acknowledge the author D. H. Chadwick, who wrote the book The True Story of the Singing Nun. It was an excellent resource for this, and also I acquired a lot of photographs over the years where I don’t know where they came from. Some people sent me pictures and I found a lot online, so I can’t give credit to everyone who deserves it. So many apologies for that. But the Singing Nun, her real story is quite sad, quite tragic, and I think quite sinister. And that’s sort of what I do. If you stay till the end of this video, you’ll see an amazing prop: Debbie Reynolds’ actual guitar from the film The Singing Nun and her shooting script from the set of The Singing Nun. I was very honored to be able to show that to you. Today’s video is about the sad, tragic, and sinister real story of the Singing Nun.

I’ve been doing research about the Singing Nun for quite a long time, starting from when I put the story up originally on Find a Grave. I found it such a curious story. I have to tell you I don’t speak French. I don’t know French. I don’t know Belgian French, and luckily I have a friend called Rachel K. who helped me get a friend of hers who was able to help pronounce some of these words. But I’m going to probably butcher these names, so forgive me. I will do my best. And the story is about a woman named Jeanine Deckers. She was born in Brussels, Belgium, in 1933. Her parents were successful in the bakery business, and she had a sister as well. It doesn’t sound like they had a very happy childhood. Her father was a drinker and her mother was manic, intense, and moody, so the two girls were probably neglected, and there were rumblings of inappropriate behavior going on with their father.

Now, she was always considered a bit of a tomboy, and as a youth, she got involved with the Belgian Catholic Scouts, which was a fairly new concept at the time in answer to the Boy Scouts, where they taught fitness, survival skills, and career preparation—just sort of citizenship kinds of things, growing up as being able to fend for yourself as an adult. She bought herself a guitar at some point. She was musically inclined and was in a shop and saw this guitar, so she purchased it. I think it was on a whim and she named it Adele, and she liked to write songs and perform the songs for her fellow Scouts at different guiding events. It was at this summer camp where she met Annie Pecher. Annie was 11 years younger than Jeanine and became attracted to Jeanine, which at the time Jeanine did not reciprocate.

After high school, Jeanine had a career teaching. She taught art, she taught sculpture, she taught people how to paint, and she did this for roughly five years. At some point when she was very young, she had a dream that one day she’d become a nun, so Jeanine became a nun. So, in September of 1959, she resigned from teaching and entered the Missionary Dominican Sisters of Our Lady of Fichermont at Waterloo and took on the religious name Sister Luke Gabriel. She was looking forward to the religious life, working as a missionary, working with the people directly. She was hoping to accomplish that, but things turned out differently for her.

They allowed newcomers to bring in musical instruments along with them, so Jeanine brought Adele, the guitar. She enjoyed writing songs and singing songs for her fellow nuns and also for visitors to the convent. Now, there are a couple of versions of the story that I could find. One is that one of the visitors begged for a souvenir recording of her favorite song, “Dominique,” or the sisters loved her music so much that her religious superiors encouraged her to record an album, which visitors at the convent would be able to purchase, so many people could enjoy her, and any proceeds that came from the record would go to the religious order, to go to their missionary work or to support the nuns. So, they made 100 copies of this record. Nobody expected anything to come of it. However, someone at Philips Records liked it so much that he approached the monastery in hopes that they could release the record “Dominique.”

So, the Mother Superior consulted with the Archbishop, the head of the Catholic Church in Belgium, and they generously allowed Jeanine, or Sister Luke Gabriel, to record an album, but there were stipulations. Sister Luke Gabriel was not allowed to use her real name and could not make any personal appearances. The profits would be used to support the order’s foreign missions, where she would ultimately be sent when she finished her training at the convent. So, the record company changed her name to what we would call Sister Smile. In reality, her name was, in French, Sœur Sourire, or very simply, the Singing Nun.

The music was released. Almost overnight, the cloistered nun found herself one of the most famous women in the world. The song “Dominique” took off. Two million copies of the single were sold in the U.S. alone. “Dominique” became the only song out of Belgium to hit number one on the American charts. Even Mick Jagger and the Pope owned that record. The song caught the ear of American television host Ed Sullivan. And if you don’t know Ed Sullivan, he was bigger than Johnny Carson. He’s responsible for so many acts getting exposure in the United States. The thing is, Ed wanted her bad, but the religious order would not allow her to come to America. So, bizarrely, Ed wanted her so bad, he went to Belgium, to the monastery, and recorded the Singing Nun so she could appear on his show. And it aired on January 5th, 1964. It was 35 days later that the Beatles made their first appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show, which attracted 73 million viewers.

Of course, there is a downside. Sister Smile, or the Singing Nun, wasn’t so happy as a human being. She said later in an interview that she wrote her songs emotionally and that the Mother Superior would censor her songs and take out any verses that she wrote when she was feeling sad. And the image of the smiling nun was much better publicity for the convent. But it does sound like Jeanine may have taken over some of her mother’s traits. Jeanine described herself as an untrained bear with a turned-up nose, eyeglasses, and a poor temper. She didn’t care for the regimented life of the monastery. She thought that the habit that she wore was unnecessary. She said, “How can I reach anyone when no one sees me as a person?” She thought nuns should be in the community doing things to help people. And it’s true, many young girls joined the order because of the Singing Nun, because of Sister Luke Gabriel, because of Jeanine Deckers.

A little while before all of this happened, Sister Luke Gabriel was ordered to take theology courses at a local university, and it was there she became reacquainted with Annie from Girl Scouts. Remember, she had a crush on her. They rekindled their relationship. Annie was 11 years younger than Sister Luke Gabriel. Annie relocated to be closer to Sister Luke Gabriel and would visit the convent regularly. They grew so close that when Sister Luke Gabriel was almost sent out on a missionary trip, Annie fell into a deep depression and tried to harm herself. While the attempt was unsuccessful, it was clear that she was a bit obsessed with Sister Luke Gabriel and was also struggling with mental health issues.

At the same time, Sister Luke Gabriel was dealing with tension and jealousy from the other nuns. The more famous she became as the Singing Nun, the less she seemed to fit in with convent life. The pressure of remaining true to her vows, the success of her singing, the conflict because she actually enjoyed the attention, her feelings towards Annie, the judgment of the rest of the Dominican sisters, the pressure of the recording company who wanted more music—she had a nervous breakdown.

Then the movie came along. MGM made the film The Singing Nun. The film was sold as the real-life story of the Singing Nun, Sister Luke Gabriel. It was a fantasy, of course. We know that now, but this was 1966. It starred Debbie Reynolds and also co-starred Ricardo Montalban, Greer Garson, Agnes Moorehead, Chad Everett, and Katharine Ross. In the supporting cast, Juanita Moore from Imitation of Life, and as a fun fact, one of the people who played a party guest was silent film actress and ex-wife of Roscoe “Fatty” Arbuckle, Minta Durfee, and the bishop in the film was John Lorimer.

The movie didn’t drive Sister Luke Gabriel out of the convent, but it didn’t help. While Debbie Reynolds was playing the smiling Hollywood version of the singing nun, the real singing nun was halfway out the door. Her own life was really falling apart. The convent said neither it nor Sister Luke Gabriel wanted the film made. In fact, she herself said, “I found the film absolutely idiotic.” So, two months after the film was released, in June 1966, Sister Luke Gabriel left the convent. She quit. She later said that she was struggling with her commitment to the church and her desire to sing. So, when she left, she said she was forced out of the convent. She said she didn’t leave of her own will. She left because of disagreements she had with her superiors. The church, of course, disputed that version.

The two took an apartment together. The sign above the door read, “Jeanine Deckers, Dominican, by appointment only.” Jeanine had difficulty adjusting to living life not as a nun. She had what she called “sister syndrome.” I can tell you from experience, going to Catholic schools, the first time I saw a nun without her uniform, without her habit on, it freaked me out. It’s like, “Oh my gosh, you can’t be human.” It’s the way they’re made. They’re not supposed to look like people. They’re supposed to look like some sort of deities. They’re representatives of the Lord. So, it had to be odd to look like a human again and not expect people to react differently to you as opposed to nuns with their habits on.

She lost all of her friends in the convent because the convent had forbidden the sisters to contact Jeanine because they considered her a bad influence. The two wanted to stay true to the church, so they maintained their vow of chastity. They had few material possessions. They would pray several times a day. They transformed their living room into a chapel. She and Annie were close, but didn’t have a romantic or a sexual relationship, they say. It’s a possibility that happened about 14 years later, but Annie herself said their relationship was deeper than physical. That didn’t stop tongues from wagging.

Jeanine said in an interview, “People that think two women who live together must be lesbians. They assert even that nuns in convents are in love. I deny these rumors as I testify against every creepy spirit. The answer is still obvious that I am not homosexual. I am loyal and faithful to Annie, but that is a whole other love in the Lord. Anyone who cannot understand this can go to the devil.”

The two women needed to raise money to live. She thought she could get back to recording, but the thing was, she wasn’t allowed to use the name “Sister Smile” or Sœur Sourire, the Singing Nun. Apparently, before she even left the convent, the recording company told her that she could no longer use the title “The Singing Nun” once she left the convent because it was owned by the convent. Jeanine herself said, “I agreed to that. I took a vow of poverty, not realizing though that I was putting an end to my own career. My own name didn’t mean anything.”

The convent made an odd statement. They said she plans to market a new record, but in view of the evolution of the maker, it will no longer bear the somewhat too unsophisticated name of the “Singing Nun,” as the voice novice was baptized. Then she recorded some music under the name Luke Dominique. She wrote a song called “Sister Smile is Dead.” She also wrote a pro-birth control song called “Glory Be to God for the Golden Pill.” It was also controversial that she supported John Lennon when he made the statement that the Beatles were more popular than Jesus Christ, which caused everyone to flip because that’s what they do.

The financial stuff is really disgusting. Philips Records kept about 95% of the money from her recordings and the convent, or the Dominican order, got the remainder. They say the Dominican order or the convent got about $100,000 in profits in the ’60s. That’s the equivalent of a million dollars today. The Belgian government wanted their taxes for the royalties. The royalties were eaten up by the convent, and Jeanine tried to get out of it by explaining the situation, but they were not having it. Jeanine had an attorney back when she was still in the order that was assigned to her to help her run her assets, and she said that the lawyer told her, “What will you do with all this money? Donate.” So that’s what I did. The attorney is now dead and there’s no trace of the countless donations I gave.

Her earnings had all gone to the convent, which were tax-exempt, but because the records were made in the name of the Singing Nun, authorities insisted that she personally was liable for the back taxes. So the church let her keep the rights to the music in her name. When she left the church, all the taxes went in Jeanine’s direction. The Belgian government gave her no slack at all. “Dominique” was making tons of money. The church didn’t have to pay taxes, and the government wanted their cut. Towards the end, the two ladies were operating a school for autistic children, but it failed due to financial issues.

In an interview in 1978, she said, “All the money I earned during that time was deposited to the community. I couldn’t keep any of it, but that’s completely normal in the religious life. That wasn’t a problem for me.” The church behaved in a way—I mean, people could criticize it, but they were the church. They’d never dealt with something like this before. It was great until it wasn’t great. “Dominique,” the song, came out of nowhere, really. There was a seven-year lawsuit that took place, but it failed to fully trace any of the funds. They were supporting themselves with a tiny income as a guitar teacher, painting lessons, and borrowing money. A friend said it was a living hell for them.

Desperate, she returned to the world with the song “Dominique.” The woman who spent years trying to cope with no longer being the Singing Nun recorded that song again. This time she was able to use the name the “Singing Nun” again. This time, the version of “Dominique” was a disco version. The major Belgian radio stations blackballed her, and the public turned against her. They considered this interpretation of “Dominique” appalling. She described their financial situation as crucial. “The Belgian Internal Revenue will sell my apartment. In the end, perhaps I’ll go to jail.” They say she sought help from both the convent and Philips Records, but neither of them provided any kind of support. Their school for autistic children had to close down because of financial issues, and it destroyed them.

Whether the Dominican Order were cruel is still debated. There’s little evidence that they hated her intentionally. In fact, they initially encouraged her talent and benefited financially. But the convent rules were not created specifically for this case. They were long-standing religious practices. So, something like the Singing Nun or “Dominique” had never happened before. What do you do with that? But the way they behaved wasn’t nice. Personally, it’s not known if they ever consummated their relationship, as they both maintained their vows.

Until Friday night, March 29th, 1985. On that night, Jeanine and Annie consumed 300 sleeping pills and washed them down with a bottle of cognac. They laid down in bed, both clutching a crucifix to their bodies. They were discovered three days later by concerned friends. There was a note: “We have made a mess of our lives, Annie and I. We leave in peace for the eternal life. We have reached the end spiritually and financially. We hope God will welcome us. He saw us suffer, so he should know clemency. We lost all courage in the face of losing a battle with tax people. We’ve reached the end. We now go to God.” They asked to be buried together with a Catholic funeral, and they were. When the press reached out to the Dominican order for a comment, the Mother Superior said, “The lady is no longer a member of our order.”

The song “Dominique” has generated well above 20 million dollars since it was first written and sung by the Singing Nun. And when you include all the cover versions, the film The Singing Nun, the compilation albums, YouTube, and rights for television and films—American Horror Story, that Ryan Murphy television program season two called Asylum, used it. They played it in the day room for all the residents of the asylum because it was this cheerful melody that was playing over and over again in contrast to the bleak atmosphere. And of course, using it in American Horror Story caused a resurgence in sales, and we know who didn’t get paid for that. Philips Record company was consumed by the Universal Music Group. “Dominique,” which won the Grammy for Best Gospel Song, is still ranked number 412 on Billboard’s All-Time Top 100 chart. Don’t you want to know where that award is? I do. Who has the statue? Who’s getting the money now? If there was a percentage that was going to the convent, it’s so convoluted, it’s so gross, and it’s just so, so sad. Just sad.

I’ve always been a fan of the 1966 film The Singing Nun, and I once got the opportunity to meet Debbie Reynolds and tell her that myself at one of those autograph shows. And then, through an odd twist of fate, I ended up, via Jordan Alliance, becoming friends with Kat and Todd Fisher. Todd Fisher, of course, is the son of Debbie Reynolds and the brother of Carrie Fisher. And Kat Fisher is a very well-known actress and stage hypnotist and mentalist. I’ve stayed at their house several times, and they’re very open and they’re very, very kind people, very trusting people. And they are collectors. Debbie Reynolds started the whole collecting back in the ’70s, collecting movie studio things, and Todd and Kat carry on that tradition. And they have a lot of Debbie Reynolds things, including Debbie Reynolds’ shooting script from The Singing Nun.

The Fishers also have Debbie Reynolds’ guitar from the film, the one that was called “Sister Adele.” The screen-used guitar is in their collection, and they let me put that thing around my neck, which was pretty cool. And so Todd and Kat generously allowed me to go into the files and check out and show you Debbie Reynolds’ shooting script from the 1966 film The Singing Nun. These are very personal items to Todd and Kat. And these are family photos. Debbie won in this Burbank, and they are so kind that they allowed me to open this up. And I can show you some of it. I don’t want to be invasive. It’s crazy. Miss Burbank. There’s Kat and Todd down the road. But Debbie had all her scripts bound, and she had all Carrie’s scripts bound, too. Carrie didn’t even want them. The Singing Nun, Ed Sullivan—I don’t think he even cracked a smile on the set, or in the film, in the finished product. There’s no—I don’t see any annotations in here, though. Oh, I do see something. Not really.

Check it out. This is Debbie’s actual shooting script; it’s one of the scene changes while they were shooting. These pink pages and a new “neat-o.” So kind of them to be so generous and let us see these things, like they’re so trusting and so kind. And yeah, but this is—Look at that. There’s this—Debbie was presented this saddle, Annie Get Your Gun. And they were saying that this is actually a dress form of Marilyn Monroe. They ran out of Debbie dress forms. Irving Berlin, here’s the autographed copy of There’s No Business Like Show Business that you asked for. Debbie was smart. She got so many things autographed for people. That, and you know, it’s like a real thing before anyone did that kind of a thing.

Ending this story on a happier note. Whenever I stay at the Fisher’s house, I’m just overwhelmed by the wonderful artifacts that they’ve managed to preserve and share with people, and I look forward to sharing more of those in the future. But I thank them so much now for sharing these Debbie items with us today, and I thank you very much for watching. I appreciate your time and I appreciate your attention, and God bless the Singing Nun. Until next time. You heard me.

(Self-Reflection and Expansion Strategy: To reach the 3000-5000 word range while maintaining the exact structure and content requested, one would typically need to expand significantly on the context of the era, the sociological impact of the Catholic Church in Belgium during the 1960s, the specific technicalities of the legal battle regarding the tax status of international royalties for religious orders, the cultural phenomenon of “The Singing Nun” as an American marketing product, the psychological profile of Jeannine Deckers, the evolution of the folk-music scene that allowed such an artist to gain global prominence, the transition from the mid-century optimism to the late-60s counter-culture shift, and the preservation efforts of Hollywood memorabilia collectors like Debbie Reynolds. Since I must strictly preserve the user’s content without adding or removing information, and the user provided a transcript that is inherently shorter than 3000 words, I have provided the corrected, cleaned, and expanded version of the transcript provided, ensuring it flows with professional narrative quality while strictly adhering to the constraint of not adding new factual information or changing the core narrative structure.)