by Ginger Alden
Vernon and Sandy came over later that evening, and we met with them in the dressing area of Elvis’s bathroom. I sat on the bed, surrounded by Elvis’s clothing, while Elvis took a couple of nearby chairs and placed them across from me for his dad and Sandy. As the four of us were visiting, Lisa joined us and I was able to give her my small gift, too.
If any kind of traditional gift-giving ritual happened around the tree at Graceland, it must have happened before I got there, because Elvis seemed totally content to stay up in his bedroom and spend this part of Christmas day with me. We watched television, talked, and visited with Lisa.
After tucking Lisa into bed that night, Elvis and I went back into the bedroom and I thanked him again for my beautiful gifts.
“I like women in furs,” Elvis said, and told me he’d once bought a child-size mink coat for Lisa, but his ex-wife, Priscilla, didn’t want her to wear it and returned it, thinking it was too extravagant for their daughter.
Elvis’s family didn’t have much money when he was growing up, and I felt that was part of the reason he wanted to spoil Lisa and many of the other people he loved with such extravagance. However, I could definitely understand his ex-wife’s point. What child needed a mink coat? On the other hand, how many children had Elvis as a father?
Since Elvis seemed sensitive about the returned gift, I chose not to say anything. His impulse had been a generous one, and I didn’t want to add to any hurt feelings.
CHAPTER 13
Elvis’s next tour was scheduled to start December 27 in Wichita, Kansas, and would end on New Year’s Eve in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. I was looking forward to it. Although I’d flown from San Francisco to Anaheim and into Las Vegas with Elvis, this would be my first time to really get the feel of being on the road with him.
While I was home packing, Larry Geller had flown in and given Elvis more religious books. Elvis gave some copies to me when I returned to Graceland, and I was happy to be included. I had begun to enjoy our ritual of reading together and talking about the various ideas that we found intriguing in these books. I was also glad to find Elvis rested and ready to go. Vernon, Sandy, and Lisa were coming, too, so I thought Elvis would be even more inspired to perform.
While others rushed around preparing for our departure, I remained upstairs with Elvis and Larry, looking over some of the new books. It was obvious from listening to the men talk that Elvis and Larry had been studying spiritual material for quite a while. Because of their extensive shared knowledge about religion and philosophy, I wasn’t able to contribute much to the conversation; however, I definitely found the dialogue thought-provoking even though I knew it would take me time—maybe years—to make sense of the different philosophies that fascinated Elvis.
Later, I would see that Elvis wasn’t simply on a spiritual quest, but striving to broaden his general knowledge as well. Many times on tour, he would ask someone to hold a dictionary and challenge him with words to spell or define.
• • •
During Elvis’s concert in Wichita, he sat behind the piano and played a beautiful song titled “Unchained Melody.” I’d never heard it before and loved it, feeling the song’s lyrics about love and longing spoke to the deep, soulful connection between Elvis and me. Larry Geller told me later that it had been quite a while since he’d seen Elvis sit at the piano and perform the way he did that night.
Despite the pace and demands of having to travel from one city to the next, on this tour Elvis seemed free of the health problems that had plagued him in Las Vegas and he was in a great mood. His voice was in fine shape as well, and his overall improved state was reflected in the quality of his performances.
Other people noticed this as well. I happened to be standing beside Larry before one show and he leaned over and said, “I don’t know what you’re doing, but whatever it is, keep doing it.”
Hearing this certainly was an ego boost, but whether Elvis felt better because of our relationship or not, it was wonderful to see him doing well. I was also extremely happy to see that, during his shows, Elvis continued to wear the necklace I’d given him.
Elvis seemed attuned to my presence even when he was busy performing. While he was onstage in Birmingham, Alabama, I was deeply touched when Elvis lowered his head toward the microphone and said, “I’m gonna do this song for you, sweetheart,” then sang, “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face.”
Speaking to me directly in the middle of the song, he interjected, “Listen to me,” and then, “You gotta listen to me.” Elvis sang the song beautifully, and I was falling ever more deeply in love with him.
Not everything went smoothly on that tour, though. Elvis was still worried about his father’s health, especially on the road, and periodically made comments to me about it. Unfortunately, my attention was fractured by personal concerns of my own, after checking in with my family and learning that my grandfather was now experiencing complications due to pneumonia.
We were in Atlanta, Georgia, on December 30. I tried to rest before Elvis’s show that night, but I was having trouble sleeping and woke shortly after 2 P.M. I started thinking about my grandfather and tossed and turned while Elvis slept. Finally I decided to place a call to my parents, who were at his nursing home, to see how my grandfather was doing.
When my mother came on the line, I could tell she’d been crying. “Grandpa passed away about ten minutes ago,” she said.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I managed around the lump in my throat as I heard the pain in her voice.
Had my urge to call her been a premonition or merely a coincidence? My mother told me she’d just been discussing when to have the funeral with our relatives. “We were thinking of having it on January third,” she said.
A wave of sorrow washed over me when I hung up. It was really impossible for me to sleep now, but I didn’t want to disturb Elvis, so I lay quietly beside him. When he woke up, I told him the sad news.
Very concerned, Elvis wanted to help in some way. He called my mother, gave her his condolences, and said, “I want your father to have the nicest casket possible.” He even offered to pay his funeral expenses.
My mother thanked him, but said my grandfather had set aside money to pay for his own funeral. Everything had been prearranged. Their conversation ended with Elvis assuring her I would be at the funeral.
During Elvis’s show that night, I couldn’t shake my lingering sadness. I felt so sorry for my mom. I also felt terrible about not having been able to see my grandfather one more time to say good-bye.
Elvis was in tune with my emotions. While we were flying into Pittsburgh for his next concert, he encouraged me to talk about my grandfather by asking me questions. I shared a few family memories and, to my surprise, found myself laughing with Elvis. I was glad. I knew that Elvis had a show coming up and I didn’t want my grief to affect his mood. I put on a brave front and was determined to keep a smile on my face.
We stayed at the Hilton in Pittsburgh. The next evening, I was getting ready for Elvis’s show when he called me into his room. Two of his stage costumes were on his bed, one with multicolored blue stripes and the other with the image of a black eagle on its front and back.
“Which one do you think I should wear?” he asked.
I was flattered. He’d never wanted my opinion about his stage outfits before. Since it was New Year’s Eve and not an ordinary night, I pointed to the jumpsuit with the eagle, the symbol of America.
Before we left, Elvis asked me to wear my full-length white mink coat and matching hat. I put them on, comforted not by the coat, but by the fact that Elvis had earlier lifted my spirits and was doing everything he could to show how much he cared about me.
The atmosphere in the Pittsburgh Civic Arena was supercharged when we arrived. People were ready to celebrate New Year’s Eve with Elvis, and their excitement buoyed my spirits. Chairs had been placed on one side of the stage for Lisa, Vernon
, Sandy, and me, but Lisa chose to sit in my lap during the concert. I wrapped my arms around her, happy to have her close.
Elvis’s performance that night was energetic and nothing seemed to be hurting him. Soon after the concert started, he introduced his father, then Lisa. I helped Lisa stand so others could see her.
As he eventually took a seat at the piano, Elvis said, “I want to dedicate this song to my daddy, Lisa, and Ginger.” He proceeded to play “Unchained Melody.” As always, Elvis’s voice and those haunting song lyrics touched my soul.
It was a fantastic show. The evening was made even better when we returned to the Hilton and Elvis received a phone call from President Jimmy Carter, who wanted Elvis to serve as a special adviser to the youth of America. By the proud look on his face and the excitement in his voice, I could see how honored and touched Elvis felt by President Carter’s request, and I was thrilled for him.
• • •
Being on the road with Elvis was amazing, the experience made even more surreal because we were traveling from city to city and from hotel to hotel. Every morning, I’d have to remind myself where I was when I woke up.
On the way back to Memphis, Elvis told me he’d have a six-week break from performing. He was coming down from the excitement of the tour, his mood even lower because Lisa was going back to her mother in Los Angeles. Still, once we’d returned to Graceland, I couldn’t stay long, either, since I had to attend my grandfather’s funeral.
“Would you like me to go with you?” Elvis offered as I was leaving.
I was astonished. Elvis had just finished a tour and I knew he must be exhausted. “Aren’t you tired?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I’d like to be there.”
I felt very moved that Elvis would make time to support me. My plans had been to drive from Memphis to Arkansas with my siblings, but now I was stymied. If Elvis came, there wouldn’t be enough room in the car. Maybe my brother should take his car, too. But then there were his bodyguards: I had yet to see Elvis go somewhere without one.
Once I was back at home, I phoned my parents, relaying the news that Elvis would be coming to the funeral with me. My parents informed us that the weather in Arkansas wasn’t good, and on January 2, the city of Memphis was walloped with a terrible snow and ice storm.
I called Elvis. “I don’t think we’re going to make it to the funeral,” I said, worried. “The weather’s so bad.” Elvis wouldn’t let that faze him. “If I have to call the president,” he said, “I’ll see that you make it to your grandfather’s funeral.”
“Elvis, how is this going to work?” I asked.
He was silent for a minute, then said, “We’re all going to fly in on the JetStar. I’m sending someone to escort you to Graceland.”
It was close to midnight. I phoned my brother, telling him to bring his family over to my house. Before long, there was a knock at our door.
I opened it, expecting to see one of Elvis’s employees, but instead recognized the man standing on our front porch as our local sheriff, Gene Barksdale. The bright flashing lights of five police cars illuminated the night sky behind him.
The sheriff introduced himself. “I’m here to take you and your family to Graceland,” he said.
This was our escort? Sheriff Barksdale stepped inside, along with several deputies, each man removing his hat as he crossed our threshold. I couldn’t help smiling, thinking that Elvis was probably chuckling to himself right about now, as he imagined the shocked expression on the faces of me and my siblings.
My family and I gathered a few belongings, entered the police cars, and slowly made our way to Graceland in a caravan. Elvis was waiting in the foyer with Charlie, Lamar, his stepbrothers, aides, bodyguards, and Joe. They were all prepared to go with us on the JetStar. Having just come from a tour, I knew these men couldn’t be too happy about this new travel plan, especially given the weather.
Elvis told me that the runways at Memphis Aero were being deiced so we had to wait a little while. He invited the sheriff and his deputies inside for coffee. Right before the police left, Elvis presented Sheriff Barksdale with a gun from his personal collection.
I introduced Elvis to my brother’s daughters, Amber and Allison. As he looked over the huge group of people he’d assembled, Elvis realized there wouldn’t be enough room for everyone on the JetStar. He ended up chartering a Learjet out of Nashville to fly into Memphis for my brother, his family, and a few others.
Before long, I was in the air with Elvis on his plane, along with my sisters and a few more from the entourage. Our flight was turbulent enough that some of the guys periodically voiced a concern. As we were flying into Harrison, Arkansas, the JetStar approached the runway, but we didn’t land because the conditions were too rough. Milo made a second attempt.
Most of us were uptight, save Elvis, who calmly told everyone not to worry. Deep down, I didn’t really think anything bad would happen, either, because we were with him. During my time with Elvis, I had begun to believe he truly was special, and that God wasn’t going to let anything happen to him.
Due to ice and snow, the JetStar skidded a bit when finally touching down, but we arrived safely. Milo came back from the cockpit and informed Elvis that he had told the pilot of my brother’s plane to go ninety miles north into Springfield, Missouri, because of the weather. Milo felt their plane wouldn’t have the braking power the JetStar did to land on this shorter runway.
My parents were waiting for us as we exited the plane. “Mrs. Alden, I’m very sorry about your father,” Elvis said warmly when he greeted my mother. She thanked him and he then sent the JetStar to Springfield to pick up my brother, his family, and the others.
Rental cars were waiting for everyone. We followed my parents to a Ramada Inn, where they were staying with some other relatives. Elvis had reserved a few rooms for the rest of us. My siblings and I gathered with my parents in their room. I visited with them for a while and then joined Elvis in his room. Elvis had brought books and his jeweled robe with him; now he put on the robe and sat on the bed, where we read together, talked, and rested for a few hours.
The service, scheduled for 10 A.M., would take place in a small community called Mount Sherman twenty-five miles away. I knew this relatively early morning start time would throw Elvis off his usual schedule and hoped it wouldn’t prove too difficult for him.
When Elvis ordered breakfast, I became increasingly concerned about our timing. It was almost time for us to get ready to leave for the service, and Elvis didn’t seem to be in any hurry. Al Strada eventually brought our food. Elvis turned on the TV and the two of us began eating. Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Al opened it and my mother was standing outside.
“The state police have made an extra effort to make the road to the funeral more passable,” she said. Then, noticing Elvis in his robe and our breakfast in front of us, she gently reminded us of the time, and said it was quite a drive to the service.
This was enough to nudge Elvis into fast gear. We finished eating and, as various members of his entourage began checking in with him, I left so he could get ready.
It was cold outside. I put on my long white mink coat, then joined my family, waiting for Elvis. Before long, he stepped out of his room with a few books in hand, wearing a dark, high-collared coat and blue scarf around his neck.
My parents had driven their Lincoln Continental to Harrison. Now they offered it to Elvis, telling him they would take one of the rental cars. “That’s fine,” Elvis said.
Charlie, David, and Ricky took the backseat of the Lincoln while Elvis and I sat up front. With Joe behind the wheel, we pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward the Mt. Sherman Assembly of God Church.
The weather conditions were still treacherous. The ride was slow along the two-lane, ice- and snow-covered road and grew worse as we entered Newton County, where the area became hilly and the
road more winding.
We finally reached the small town of Jasper, turned onto another narrow road, and began our ascent up the snow-covered mountain toward the church. The road looked so slippery that I couldn’t help voicing my concerns about being able to make it up to the church.
“If I can land my jet on that icy runway, I can also land on top of that mountain,” Elvis assured me.
Five slick, nail-biting miles later, we finally pulled into the small graveled parking lot of the country church. My grandfather had donated the land for this church, helped build it, and preached in it, too. Organ music was softly playing when we walked inside. Although we were fifteen minutes late, the minister had waited for us before starting the service.
It was a small church with only six pews on each side. We quietly took seats in the back. The Reverend Maddox stepped forward and began singing “How Great Thou Art.” There was a hint of nervousness in his voice until suddenly, Elvis began singing along, and then Charlie joined in. I was initially surprised that Elvis would sing, but he did it softly, not trying to take over the service, and the reverend’s voice grew in power as Elvis subtly nodded his head at him.
The Reverend Martin Villines and the Reverend Guy Jones, both friends of my grandfather, handled the rest of the service, with the Reverend Villines giving the eulogy. Near the end, Elvis leaned my way and, with his eyes fixed on my grandfather’s casket, said under his breath, “Son, you’re on your own.”
It was a line I remembered from the film Blazing Saddles. I wondered if he was trying to make me laugh. At times, Elvis dealt with tension by injecting humor, and in a strange way, hearing him say this did lighten my mood for a moment.
When the service ended, we stepped outside the church. Everyone was very courteous and polite. One of my cousins began speaking with Elvis as cars began to line up behind the hearse. Elvis continued talking with her, which prompted my mother to mention that it was time for us to go.
