by Ginger Alden
I started to pencil in a small area. Our faces were close together; Elvis began staring at me and making subtle, comical facial expressions. He wouldn’t stop even when I begged him to, and I started laughing so hard, my hand shook in the middle of giving him his touch-up.
When I was finished, Elvis turned around to look in the mirror. “My God,” he said in mock horror. “I look like Groucho Marx!”
Needless to say, he had to tone it down a bit. We laughed as he wiped some of the color off and then Elvis shared a tip he’d learned working in films, showing me how to apply mascara a certain way to make your lashes look longer. I never could have imagined that I could learn makeup tips from a man, but here I was, still learning something new from Elvis every day.
• • •
Because we were touring from one city to the next, Elvis and I usually didn’t know what day it was. However, on Valentine’s Day I got a pleasant surprise: Elvis gave me not one, but four different Valentine’s cards!
I knew someone else must have picked out the cards, but it still touched me that he’d thought to do this. Inside the cards, Elvis had underlined certain verses and written some beautiful personal words.
A few nights later, I again looked over the cards Elvis had given me. Maybe because of the romantic things Elvis had said and done, I started thinking about my parents’ marriage crumbling, reflecting on how their love had gone wrong and wondering why it hadn’t lasted. Here I was with Elvis, both of us looking forward to marriage, while theirs was possibly coming to an end. The thought made me sad.
Elvis could tell something was bothering me. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
I hadn’t wanted to burden him with any discussion about my parents’ marital problems before, but I felt that part of being in a loving relationship meant being honest with someone. I hoped he would open up to me if something was bothering him, so I decided not to hide it anymore. I broke down, telling Elvis that my parents just weren’t compatible with one another.
Elvis was surprised. After I’d described what was going on at our house, he said, “Those are unpleasant conditions to be living under, and I don’t want you living in that.”
I appreciated his sympathetic ear and concern, but I wasn’t asking Elvis to do anything about it. He had asked me what was on my mind, and I had honestly opened up to him, I explained, adding, “Elvis, this is a situation that I believe only my parents can solve.”
I learned it was impossible for him to be a passive listener, as he seemed determined to want to help. “I’d like to speak with your mother about what’s going on,” he said. “I want to invite her and your sisters to see my last few shows.”
On February 19, Elvis flew them first-class on American Airlines into Johnson City, Tennessee. During his show there, Elvis introduced me to his audience, along with my mother, Rosemary, and Terry.
The next show was in Charlotte. On the flight between Tennessee and North Carolina, Elvis took time to talk with my mom about her marriage. He listened patiently to everything she was willing to share.
I knew Elvis couldn’t change how my parents felt about each other, but I deeply appreciated how much effort he was putting into trying to comfort her. He told my mother that he hoped things would work out, and asked her to keep looking for a house.
“It will be one less thing to worry about,” Elvis promised her.
During the Charlotte show, he introduced me again. This time, going down the line with my family, he said, “and all the little Aldens,” acknowledging Terry as Miss Tennessee. With a mischievous look, he then started walking toward Terry.
Terry began shaking her head and, under her breath, I heard her say, “No . . . No.”
Elvis ignored this. Looking straight at her, he asked Terry to join him onstage. He had stopped his whole show to single her out.
Terry finally stepped up onto the stage beside him, blushing furiously.
“Play that weird piece you play,” Elvis teased.
“No,” Terry said.
But Elvis motioned for her to do it, and finally she took a seat behind the piano, where she quickly played part of “Toccata.”
As Terry stood to leave, she turned to Elvis and jokingly said, “I’ll get you for this,” forgetting his microphone was in his hand. We later had a good laugh wondering if any others had heard her.
The performance in Charlotte was Elvis’s last show of the tour. We flew back to Memphis afterward, where he could enjoy nearly a month off.
Once we were back in Memphis, Elvis continued to visit my parents’ home, sometimes by motorcycle and not always under the cover of darkness. I never knew when Elvis might appear. If I was at home sleeping and heard the roar of a motorcycle, I always woke up wondering if it could be him.
I could tell he was getting real comfortable with my family, which made me feel great. Occasionally, Elvis would enter our house and, right off the bat, would ask, “Where’s Rosemary?” Looking for her, he’d march down the hall and flip on her bedroom light.
One time my brother happened to be at the house when Elvis came to visit, and Elvis brought up the possibility of training Mike as a guard to work for him. My brother thanked him and said he would certainly consider it.
On another occasion, Elvis decided to approach my father about my parents’ marriage. He sat with my dad in Rosemary’s room and talked with him for a little while. Later, Elvis told me he didn’t know if their conversation had helped fix anything, but it was a start. I was amazed by how caring and good-hearted he was with both of my parents.
Elvis really seemed to be taking them on as his own family now that we were engaged. I thought that boded well for our future as a couple, because family was so important to both of us.
• • •
I had never lost my love of motorcycles. I was thrilled, therefore, when we were at Graceland one night and Elvis finally asked me to ride with him. He called for Billy Smith and, when Billy entered the room, Elvis looked at him and said, “Saddle up the Harley hogs.”
Billy left, and figuring that Elvis must own a few Harley-Davidson motorcycles, I asked him why he called them that. “Because they hog the road,” he said.
As usual, he left his pajamas on, stepped into his blue jumpsuit, buckled his black stage belt around his waist, and tucked one of his guns inside it. Going into his dressing room, he returned with his black leather jacket and handed me another one, saying, “Here, I want you to have this.”
It was a beautiful jacket in silver leather, with multicolored flames and a black eagle painted on its back. Elvis handed me a helmet and we walked downstairs.
Stopping by his grandmother’s bedroom, we said a quick hello and continued out back. I thought it was sweet that Elvis usually checked on Dodger whenever he was going out.
The minute I put the helmet on, Elvis looked at me and began to laugh. “You look like a lollipop head,” he said.
I was amused as well, knowing my head was on the small side and the helmet was huge on me.
Billy and a couple of the guys got on motorcycles and, straddling his own, Elvis said, “Come on, Chicken Neck. Get on.”
I did, and we slowly took off down the driveway. My neck couldn’t support the weight of the helmet and I kept banging my head into Elvis’s. He started laughing, and pretty soon we were nearly hysterical because every time he slowed down, my helmet would go clank against his.
We rode up and down Elvis Presley Boulevard, where Elvis playfully yelled to a couple of passing cars, “Get off my street!” He was enjoying himself, and I was having a blast.
At one point, Elvis had to use a restroom, so we stopped at a gas station. Some fans had followed us; stepping off the motorcycle, Elvis signed a few autographs. He always took time with his fans.
Before long, we were back on the motorcycle and we rode around some more, circling through parking lots, then
returned to Graceland. It had been a fun night, and I hoped there would be many more like it.
• • •
I was now actively envisioning a future with Elvis, and I delighted in imagining the life we would share, a life that I hoped would be enriched by pets and children. Soon I took one step closer to that future. I’d always loved Great Danes, and I’d been entertaining the idea of getting one. I was surprised when I mentioned this to Elvis one day and he told me he’d owned Great Danes in the past. I thought it was neat that we both liked the same breed.
Excited by the prospect of sharing and caring for a pet together, I told Elvis that, when the dog was a puppy, I could keep it at my parents’ house, and after he and I were married, it would have room to run at Graceland. This got us talking about dogs, and I could tell Elvis had a soft spot for animals by the way he reminisced about some of the pets he’d owned over the years. My parents had allowed us to have a variety of pets and, as we traded stories, he suggested that we get one.
I later found a listing in our local paper for some puppies. One day, unbeknownst to Elvis, I drove to a home in Sayreville, Tennessee, and purchased a black male Great Dane with a small white star on his chest. In honor of Elvis’s opening theme to his concerts, I decided to name him Odyssey.
I couldn’t wait to show him to Elvis! I brought the puppy to Graceland. Gawky, with large paws and long legs, Odyssey was big at just a couple of months old. The puppy didn’t have any experience with stairs, so, hoping no one would see me, I stood over him, took one paw at a time, and slowly helped Odyssey walk up the front stairs.
Elvis and Billy were chatting in Lisa’s room when I arrived. I entered the doorway, lugging my new puppy with me, and said, “This is Odyssey.”
Surprised, they started laughing. Billy began joking around, calling the dog Oddball.
I was a little sensitive about it, which Elvis noticed. He gave Billy an annoyed look and said he thought Odyssey was cute. Billy left the room then and Elvis apologized. He said he’d looked in the paper, too, where he’d seen the same ad and was going to call.
Over the next few days, I divided my time between trying to train Odyssey at home and going to see Elvis. He was clearly thinking about what our future would look like together, too, because one day, Elvis said, “You have to learn that you are the lady of the house.”
“Okay,” I agreed. It warmed me to hear this. Although I didn’t live at Graceland yet, it was wonderful to know that Elvis was already thinking of me in this way.
At the same time, I was a little worried, wondering how I could easily slip into this role without disturbing or offending those who were running Graceland behind the scenes. I didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes. I hadn’t had any opportunities to hang out downstairs and visit with the other people who were regulars in the house, so I hadn’t formed a close relationship with any of them.
In addition, I also came from a middle-class upbringing, one where you cleaned your own house and cooked your own meals. Having maids and aides at your beck and call any time of day or night was still a novelty for me, one I’d been trying to get used to while being with Elvis. I was confident, though, that the more time I spent at Graceland, the more comfortable I would start to feel that I would know the right things to say and do as his wife.
Meanwhile, Elvis continued to demonstrate his growing trust and commitment to me by giving me the remote control for an electric gate that opened onto the back of his property. A side road led to the gatehouse at this rear entrance, where a guard was always on duty. Elvis often used this road when he wanted to come and go from Graceland privately. Now he wanted me to be able to arrive or leave without notice whenever I wanted. It was a small step, but a big gesture; one more way of him saying, “I want you to have full access into my life.”
Another evening, Elvis glanced about his bedroom with a thoughtful look and suddenly announced that he wanted to redecorate his home. He grew excited as we started talking about the possibilities.
“Graceland should come alive again,” Elvis said cheerfully. “After we’re married, I want to redo my bedroom first.” He paused with a sigh. “Then comes the monstrous task of downstairs,” he said, turning to me then and taking my hand. “I want it to be a lot of what you like, too,” he said.
“That’ll be fun,” I agreed, excited about the prospect of redecorating Graceland. Although the idea of this undertaking was a little intimidating, I felt sure Elvis would guide me through it successfully. This was something we could do together that would make me feel more a part of his home. Interior design also appealed to my artistic side.
“What colors for downstairs?” he asked.
I thought about this for a minute, then replied, “Green would be pretty, with some plants and maybe a large aquarium.”
Elvis nodded. “Okay.” He said another one of the things he’d like to do was redecorate the ladies’ bathroom in his office. He asked me to choose colors for that also.
“Turquoise and white would be nice,” I said at once. I’d always loved that combination for a bathroom.
He then brought up redecorating his Palm Springs home and putting in a screening room, making it like a small movie theater with king and queen chairs for the two of us.
Talking about how he wanted to change some things caused me to truly begin visualizing the details of what our life together could be like for the first time. I was thrilled and swept up in his vision, adding my own ideas here and there.
One afternoon, I woke at Graceland before Elvis did and decided to go downstairs to look around a bit. If we were going to redecorate the house, I wanted to be able to consider our choices, and I didn’t feel like I knew the downstairs rooms that well because most of my time had been spent upstairs.
I walked into the dining room and began looking at some objects arranged on a shelf in a built-in corner cabinet. At one point, I turned around and was startled to see the maid, Lottie, seated at the dining room table, watching me. I hadn’t heard her come in.
“Hi,” I said.
Lottie smiled and greeted me in return, but I felt some trepidation, as if I’d sneaked into a room I wasn’t supposed to be in at all. For me, trying to feel at home at Graceland was like trying to feel at home in the White House. I turned back and continued to examine the objects on the shelves, a little self-conscious now.
“You can change anything you want,” Lottie said, surprising me.
Elvis must have said something to her about me being the lady of the house, I thought happily as I turned around to smile at Lottie again.
“It’s all fine,” I replied. I hadn’t come downstairs to start changing things. I just wanted to look around a bit. I also wanted Lottie to feel comfortable with me. Although I appreciated how deferential she was acting, I knew myself too well. I would never feel comfortable ordering her or any of the other staff around, lady of the house or not.
CHAPTER 19
Toward the end of February, Elvis asked, “Have you ever been to Hawaii?”
I was aware that Elvis had made a few movies in Hawaii and had performed a concert there years ago, but I didn’t know if he’d been back recently. Elvis still didn’t know how little I’d traveled before meeting him, I realized.
“No,” I answered.
A smile crept across his face. “I’d really like to take you there,” he said.
Wow, I thought. That would be a dream come true! I’d always wanted to go to Hawaii. “I’d love to see it,” I said.
And so it was settled: Elvis decided he wanted to leave on March 3 and graciously invited my whole family. Only my sisters would be able to make this trip, and my parents offered to take care of Odyssey.
The evening of our departure, I was sitting with Terry and Rosemary in the living room at Graceland, packed and waiting for Elvis to finish getting ready upstairs, when the doorbell rang. One of the maids opened it.
A man, dressed in a suit and carrying a briefcase, stepped into the foyer, accompanied by a woman. Walking past my sisters and me, they went upstairs, leaving us wondering who they were.
Not long afterward, someone asked me to come upstairs. I entered Elvis’s office and saw him seated at his desk, talking with Charlie and the two strangers. Elvis introduced the man to me as his attorney, Beecher Smith, and the woman as Beecher’s wife. Elvis’s will was lying on the desk in front of them.
“I need witnesses, and you and Charlie are close by,” Elvis said.
This was the first business document I’d ever seen placed before him. It was obvious that Elvis didn’t want to be bothered with it, since he started making comments about Hawaii and seemed anxious to leave.
I noticed that, on the last page of his will, the year 1976 had been crossed through and 1977 was written in its place. Elvis didn’t read anything in my presence. He just quickly signed the will and then Charlie, Mrs. Smith, and I signed as witnesses. I never wondered about the will or the timing of Elvis signing the document at that time. I just looked at it as a little bit of business that Elvis had to do before leaving.
A little while later, we were on the way to the airport, all of us excited about the trip. I mentioned that it was an extra-special treat for Terry because it was her birthday. What a great birthday gift! Elvis smiled broadly and wished her a happy one.
I had become aware at Graceland that Charlie and Billy and Jo Smith were also going to Hawaii, but it wasn’t until we arrived at the airport and boarded the Lisa Marie that I realized how many people were actually gathered for the trip: aides, stepbrothers, wives, girlfriends, bodyguards, Lamar, Larry, and even Dr. Nichopoulos and his entire family were all on board the plane. Discovering this reminded me once again that Elvis’s generous impulses weren’t reserved only for me and my family, but bestowed on all those around him.
Elvis greeted everyone and then asked me to join him at the back of the plane. I suspected he felt most comfortable being in the bedroom during takeoff. After the Lisa Marie was in the air, we moved up front to visit with various members of the group. Elvis had never met some of the girls who were coming along. One of them was Lamar’s date. She had a funny sense of humor, and she hit it off with Rosemary and Terry.