by Ginger Alden
When we entered the suite, a bodyguard’s wife who’d had one drink too many turned to look at Elvis and slipped off her stool at the bar, landing on the floor. Elvis looked slightly embarrassed as he approached my family. They were seated together on the couch.
As I introduced each person in turn and Elvis asked how my sisters had been, I realized I had still never told Elvis that my father met him years ago, when Elvis was first sworn into the army. I related the story now. I also told Elvis that my siblings and I had met him at the fairgrounds when we were little.
Elvis was genuinely surprised. I hadn’t expected him to have any recollection of these memories; however, he looked long and hard at my dad and said, “Mr. Alden, I remember you now.” He then went on, mentioning the army before going on to discuss other things. Later, when we were alone, Elvis would bring up again that it was pretty neat my family and he had met earlier.
At one point in the evening, Elvis asked someone to bring him the three wise men gifts he had received a few nights back and the conversation turned spiritual.
My mother told Elvis that her father had once been a preacher, years back, which interested him and they chatted a little more. He then politely asked my family if they would mind him continuing his visit with them the next evening, because he was tired but wanted to spend more time with them. He said he would like to treat them to a French showgirl revue called the Lido de Paris at the Stardust Hotel, then have them return to the Hilton to see his second show.
The following night, my family went to see the Lido, and Elvis’s ex-in-laws, the Beaulieus, along with their daughter Michelle and son Don, came to see Elvis perform during his first show. We were introduced backstage and, instead of being seated with Vernon in the showroom, I was surprised when this time Elvis placed me in a booth with the Beaulieus. Mr. Beaulieu was polite, briefly saying a few words to me, but I couldn’t help but feel awkward throughout the entire show.
Elvis and I eventually went back to the suite between performances. When I returned to the showroom, I saw that the Beaulieus had stayed to watch another show. My family was sitting, unknowingly, in a booth beside them.
This time I was directed to sit with Vernon and Sandy. This decision baffled me a little, as Elvis had yet to seat me with my family. As always, though, I tried to keep an open mind where Elvis was concerned. By now I knew that Elvis did things in his own inexplicable way. Sometimes I would understand his thinking and sometimes not.
During this second performance, Elvis occasionally sat on a stool, still favoring one leg, but he had a good time and joked heavily with Charlie, which had everyone laughing. At one point, as he leaned over to kiss a member of the audience, Elvis hastily said, “Ginger, it’s only part of the show.”
He had mentioned my name again! I was on cloud nine!
Afterward, my family joined me in the dressing room and I was finally able to freely chat with them. They were bowled over when I told them about my new car. Elvis visited with a few people in the adjacent room and kept others waiting, as usual, including my parents and the Beaulieus, neither of whom would be introduced to one another. Vernon and Sandy spoke with my parents at one point, and Vernon gave my father a cigar, telling him that his doctors had advised him to quit smoking.
Elvis eventually visited with the Beaulieus. When they had gone, Elvis came out and greeted my family, this time inviting them back to the penthouse, where he gave them a tour of the suite while I waited in the living room.
When they returned, he took me aside. “Put on your white gown and all your jewelry,” he whispered in my ear.
I went into my bathroom and did as he requested. Taking one last look in the mirror, I literally glittered from head to toe. Feeling as regal as any princess, I stepped out and was gratified to see Elvis beaming at me from across the room. “There,” he said to my family. “I want you to see your daughter in her true attire. It’s little Ginger’s time to shine.”
My family had seen me wear gowns at pageants, but this was the real thing and they were full of compliments. Elvis left the room then, only to return carrying the framed reproduction of a painting of himself by the artist Loxi Sibley.
After we’d admired it for a few moments, Elvis handed the painting to my father. “I want you to have it,” he said, once again demonstrating how much he wanted to give to everyone around him. I thought Elvis would be tired after the show, but he continued to visit with my family for a long time, and I was happy to see him enjoying himself.
At some point, the conversation turned to Elvis’s love of karate. Gathering my family in a circle, Elvis said he wanted to display some techniques for them.
He asked Ed Parker and Ricky Stanley to come into the room, then carefully placed Ricky in various positions as his “victim” while Ed narrated what Elvis was doing. Ed was fascinating to listen to, and I was mesmerized.
Elvis and Ed also demonstrated a few of their own karate moves on one another, and it was great to see Elvis apparently free from the pain he’d been suffering. It was all extremely entertaining, but it was quite late. My sister’s boyfriend, Tony, eventually couldn’t help himself and began to yawn.
Elvis shot him a quick glance and said, “Am I boring ya, son?”
Extremely embarrassed, Tony abruptly closed his mouth and replied, “No.”
Elvis wrapped up the evening by telling us a story about Barbra Streisand approaching him to work on a remake of the film A Star Is Born. There were two reasons he didn’t want to do that film, Elvis explained. The first was that he didn’t understand why the main character would kill himself. The second reason was that, when Barbra Streisand and the producer, Jon Peters, discussed the movie with him, Jon had yawned.
“Man, I just couldn’t see him directing it,” Elvis said.
• • •
Sunday, December 12, Elvis performed what would be his last show in Las Vegas. Wayne Newton, Lola Falana, Kay Stevens, and Michelle Lee were all in the audience. The presence of so many stars was an added gift for my brother, who, unbeknownst to Elvis, happened to be celebrating his thirty-first birthday that day.
Elvis had a good time cutting up with Charlie onstage that night, and even though Charlie’s birthday was a few days away, Elvis sang “Happy Birthday” to him. I only wished I had told him it was my brother’s actual birthday, because if Elvis had acknowledged it from the stage, what a gift that would have been!
Wayne Newton visited with Elvis in his dressing room while Wayne’s wife, Elaine, chatted briefly with me and my family. After they left, my parents thanked Elvis and returned to their rooms to pack. It was a little tough for me to say good-bye, but I remained with Elvis an extra day so he could rest, while my parents flew home on the JetStar.
As I looked back on our intense time together in Las Vegas, I wondered what it would be like when Elvis and I were finally apart in Memphis after spending so much intimate time together. We had shared our thoughts and feelings as we discovered new things about each other. He had even spoken of marriage. I had been magically transported into Elvis’s world and inhabited it as fully as possible, learning much about his connection to his fans, his life as a performer, his entourage of close employees and friends, and his spiritual quest.
In our exciting weeks together, Elvis had become my mentor, lover, and protector. He had rocked me not only musically, but physically and emotionally. My world, as I’d always known it, was forever changed, no matter what happened next.
CHAPTER 11
I flew back to Memphis with Elvis on the Lisa Marie. As the plane touched down on familiar soil, it felt nice to be home. Yet, I also felt slightly displaced after having lived in Elvis’s world for almost three weeks nonstop.
David Stanley, another of Elvis’s stepbrothers and employees, was waiting to pick us up at the airport. He was close to my age with long, shaggy, dark brown hair and a brawnier build than his two siblings. I had
no trouble believing it when Elvis told me David’s nickname was Magilla Gorilla.
Driving toward Graceland down Elvis Presley Boulevard, as we neared the front gates, I saw a large nativity scene now sitting in the front yard. I had seen this nativity scene many times in the past. During my childhood, my family would drive around the area every Christmas, marveling at the holiday lights as nearby neighborhoods tried to outdo one another with beautiful decorations. What seemed magical to me then was indescribably wonderful now as I viewed it seated next to Elvis.
As we passed the life-size statues of Mary, Joseph, and Jesus in the manger, Elvis looked my way, shrugged his shoulders, and joked, “Who are those people?”
Inside Graceland, one of the maids greeted us and I noticed a Christmas tree standing in the dining room. From the foyer, I couldn’t tell if it was real or not, but it was beautiful. I wondered who had decorated it.
Just then, an older woman with an adorable honey-colored Pomeranian cradled in her arms entered the room and welcomed Elvis home. Elvis introduced her as Aunt Delta. I would later learn that she was Vernon’s sister and had been living at Graceland since the 1960s. An aide carried the three wise men Elvis had been given inside and placed them in the foyer near the front door.
Wordlessly, Elvis walked upstairs and I followed him with the unspoken understanding that he expected me to accompany him to his bedroom. I still felt like a visitor on the outside looking in, but it seemed that, for Elvis, me being at Graceland was already the most normal thing in the world.
Although we had taken an extra day in Las Vegas to relax at the Hilton, it had still felt like a whirlwind trip. Now that we were home, I could feel my adrenaline-fueled energy giving way to weariness. I thought Elvis must feel the same way and would want to rest or just be away from the many people who had surrounded him for the past few weeks.
Upstairs, Elvis immediately disappeared into his bathroom. I stood waiting, unsure of what to do. I felt that I needed to go home, regroup, and reflect on all of the new experiences I’d had with Elvis, but I didn’t want to leave if that would disappoint him. I also knew that, because Elvis and I had been together nonstop, I would miss him.
Elvis returned from the bathroom, where he had changed into his usual pajamas, and sat down on his bed. Picking up one of his books from the floor, he motioned me over to sit beside him.
If this was what Elvis needed to relax, I was happy to stay until he was ready to go to sleep. However, as I took my place beside him while Elvis read, my eyes wandered to the pictures of Linda Thompson on the shelf. I wondered if he’d simply forgotten they were there. Shaking thoughts of Linda from my mind, I turned my focus back to Elvis.
At one point, Elvis asked about my grandfather having been a minister and said he wanted to speak with my mother again. I called home, said a quick hello, and handed him the phone.
Elvis dove right into a conversation with her about the Bible. “Have you ever noticed how the word history broken up means His story?” he asked, alluding to history being God’s story.
My mother had a strong spiritual faith. She had frequently read parts of the Bible to us, so I knew she’d enjoy this conversation. As they talked, it was interesting to hear some of Elvis’s personal observations regarding the Bible. With all of the reading we had previously done, we had not yet touched upon this area.
Their conversation lasted a few minutes, then Elvis abruptly changed the subject. “What kind of car do you drive?” he asked.
As he sat quietly listening, I knew she was telling him about the Dodge Charger they had recently purchased. “That’s your family car?” he asked.
When the conversation ended and Elvis hung up, he seemed to be mulling over something. Looking my way, he announced, “I would like your parents to have a new car, a larger one.”
I didn’t know what to say. He could render me speechless like nobody else.
After thinking about it for a few more minutes, Elvis asked, “Would you mind giving them the Continental? I have another car I wanna give you.” This took me totally by surprise.
In the excitement of being with Elvis in Las Vegas and coming home to Memphis, I hadn’t given the Continental a thought. In fact, I still hadn’t even driven it.
“That’s fine,” I said, amazed that Elvis would want my parents to have a new car. “But where is the Continental?”
“It should be here,” he said. “Someone was supposed to drive it to Memphis.”
“Oh. Okay,” I answered, smiling as I thought about how, in Elvis’s world, magical things like this could just happen.
• • •
The Continental was indeed delivered to Graceland. Now Elvis wanted me to drive it home. He called for an aide to escort me.
Eager to surprise my parents, I took a seat behind the wheel of the car for the first time and began following Al Strada toward Graceland’s gates. It was a surprisingly harrowing experience. I hadn’t realized how big the car was until I was driving it. As I peered over the wheel, the Continental’s expansive hood seemed to stretch out forever. It was basically a land yacht! As the car squeezed through the brick pillars and onto Elvis Presley Boulevard, I was worried about hitting any- and everything.
Keeping up with Al wasn’t easy, either. He was driving fast, so fast that I had the impression he was just trying to get this chore over with. I wondered if he was tired after the trip, too. Luckily, I made it home with no fender benders.
My parents were at work when I arrived, but my sisters were in the house. It was comforting to see them. At the same time, it actually felt slightly surreal to be at home. I brought my sisters outside, and as they gasped at the sight of the gleaming white Continental, I told them that Elvis wanted me to give it to our parents. They were flabbergasted.
They wanted to hear about Las Vegas when we headed back inside. As much as I wanted to tell them about it, I suddenly realized how exhausted I was. I explained that I needed to rest, because Elvis was sleeping and might call when he woke up. This would be my only chance to get caught up on sleep.
“Can I tell you all about it when Mom and Dad get home?” I asked, then retired to my bedroom. I was practically asleep before my head hit the pillow.
I don’t know how many hours I slept before there was a knock on my door. It was my mom. I walked with my parents outside and, as they stared disbelievingly at the Continental, I repeated the words that Elvis had originally said to me: “It’s yours.”
It was a priceless moment.
I told my family as much as I could about what I’d experienced with Elvis, but I couldn’t reveal everything, especially the inexplicable moments when I’d witnessed the self-healing or Elvis’s attempts to move objects with his mind. I doubt they would have believed me anyway.
In turn, they shared their own experiences in Las Vegas, and how the trip had taken my mother’s mind off her father’s health for a bit. It was her first time on an airplane and, although she had a fear of flying, “Once we were inside the JetStar,” she said, “I didn’t think twice about it.”
My parents hadn’t been inside their room at the Las Vegas Hilton long before there was a knock at their door. When they opened it, a man stood in the hallway, holding a vase of flowers he said were from Elvis. My mother thanked him and carried the vase into the room.
When she turned back after putting the flowers on a table, she caught the man inching his way into the room. “Is Ginger your daughter?” he had asked.
“Yes,” she’d answered, startled.
“Are she and Elvis going to get married?” he asked.
Only then had my mother realized he was probably a reporter, and the flowers weren’t really from Elvis at all. “I’m sorry,” she told him, “but I can’t answer any questions.”
The man had tried to step inside the room even more. “I practically had to close the door on him!” my mother reported now.
We laughed about the incident, but I was uncomfortable. Neither my family nor I had any preparation for dealing with the press. I hoped this sort of thing wouldn’t happen again.
That was one hope that would go unfulfilled.
“Do you think I still have a job?” I asked her now.
“When I spoke with them, they told me you did,” she said.
I breathed a sigh of relief. At least one small thing would still feel normal now that I was back in Memphis.
Later that night, Elvis called my house himself for the very first time. My father asked to speak with him. He thanked Elvis for the car, but told him they honestly felt awkward as it was such a large gift. It was fun seeing the expression on my dad’s face, because I could tell from his look of shock and confusion that Elvis was pressing him until he felt all right about accepting the car.
When I got back on the line, Elvis invited me over.
“I’ll drive,” I said, but Elvis, always the gentleman, insisted on sending someone to pick me up.
Back at Graceland, I wasn’t inside long when Elvis took my hand and asked me to walk downstairs with him. I followed him outside onto the porch, wondering what he was up to now. I was rapidly learning to expect the unexpected.
Headlights suddenly appeared from around the side of the house as a gorgeous silver and maroon Cadillac Seville pulled up in front of us. An aide climbed out of the driver’s seat, and Elvis turned to me. “Thanks for givin’ the Continental to your parents, Ginger,” he said. “This is yours.”
I hugged Elvis, understanding now why he hadn’t wanted me to drive myself to Graceland, then ran over to excitedly look over my new car. It was a customized version of Cadillac’s newly introduced Seville with wire wheels, a chrome grille, and a built-in citizen band radio.
Elvis explained that he had originally bought the car for his father. “My dad told me he didn’t really have any use for it,” he said. I couldn’t help but wonder if Elvis had felt a little hurt about this.
