by Ginger Alden
A little while into the flight, my sisters told me they had been chatting with her when Lamar took hold of her hand and she looked at them with a tolerant smile. She had then rolled her eyes at my sisters behind Lamar’s back, as if to say, “This is something I have to do.”
It was obvious, I thought, that this woman had come along on the trip only to meet Elvis. She later confirmed this by telling my sisters that she didn’t really want to be with Lamar.
We landed in Oakland, California, where Ed Parker and his wife, Leilani, boarded the plane. With their addition to our group of travelers, I thought there had to be at least thirty people now on board! Before long, we were in the air again and soaring over the Pacific Ocean.
During this portion of the trip, Elvis mainly stayed in the back of the plane with my sisters and me with the door closed. He was in a silly mood. At one point, he started talking about rats and said he thought his aide Dean looked like one.
Cutting up and laughing, Elvis joked about rats, cheese, and other people on board he thought looked like rats. My sisters and I had him pretend he was in a movie with cameras rolling. As if envisioning rats all around him, Elvis hunched his shoulders and, with a panic-stricken look, suddenly shouted, “Rats! Millions of them! They’re all around me, crawling all over my body!”
Elvis had us all in stitches. It was great to see him having so much fun. The three of us egged him on and he continued to act out various silly scenarios with rats.
After a while, Rosemary, Terry, and I went up front to get a snack and a drink. Following us out, Elvis took a seat in the room just outside the bedroom, and Dr. Nichopoulos walked back and began chatting with him.
My sisters and I got our refreshments and headed back toward the bedroom. Elvis was still in a conversation with Dr. Nichopoulos and, as we passed them, Rosemary looked at Elvis.
“Would you like some cheese?” she asked.
He laughed, shushed her, and said, “Get out of here, Rosemary.”
Elvis soon joined us in the bedroom and asked Rosemary, “So what’s going on up front?”
“Oh, not much,” she said, then casually told him what a few people were doing, including Charlie, saying that he was talking to Ed about some of the books Elvis had been reading.
When she mentioned this, Elvis asked, “Charlie’s doing what?”
Elvis then told us that Ed was a devout Mormon, and said he was worried about Charlie drinking and saying the wrong things about his books. I sensed that Elvis didn’t want to upset Ed or disrespect him in any way.
Elvis called for Charlie to come to the back. When Charlie walked in, Elvis said, “Charlie, man . . . be careful how you talk about my books with Ed.”
Charlie looked puzzled. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong,” he said, but Elvis didn’t want to hear it. Looking a little hurt, Charlie slunk out the door.
As we approached Hawaii, Elvis began rhapsodizing about the islands. Later, Elvis whispered to me, “Can you imagine if we got married here? It would blow everybody away.”
I froze for a moment. Is he seriously considering this?
Then, as if reminding himself, Elvis said, “God will tell me when the time is right, though.”
When the Lisa Marie touched down on the island of Oahu, Elvis made the moment all the more magical as he began softly singing “Blue Hawaii,” to my sisters and me. I couldn’t believe we were actually here!
As I followed Elvis outside onto a mobile stairway, the first thing that hit me was the overwhelming fragrance of flowers. Hawaiians greeted us and placed beautiful leis around our necks after we descended the steps.
My sisters and I rode with Elvis in a limousine from the airport while the rest of the group followed in a small bus. About twenty minutes later, we pulled onto the grounds of the Rainbow Tower at Hilton Hawaiian Village. It looked like a tropical paradise with its gardens, ponds, and waterfalls.
Elvis had reserved a suite of rooms on the thirty-first floor and arranged for Terry and Rosemary to be in a bedroom across the living room from ours. A few of the guys came in to help us settle in our room. They brought in the bags, laid out Elvis’s books, and left a contact sheet so we’d know who was on duty and when.
Elvis eagerly took me by the hand and led me onto the suite’s balcony, where I took in the unbelievably gorgeous, postcard-perfect view of Waikiki Beach below and, in the distance, a volcanic crater that Elvis said was Diamond Head. I couldn’t wait to see it all up close.
Rosemary and Terry were going downstairs to look around, but before they did, Elvis remembered Terry’s birthday and thoughtfully called a jeweler to come to our suite with a selection of pieces. Generous as always, Elvis picked out a beautiful ring and gave it to Terry.
My sisters eventually left and a few other people stopped by our suite to greet us. Before long, however, Elvis went into the bedroom and sat on the bed, where he picked out some books and appeared to be ready to read and relax.
Could he really want to read now, I wondered, when there was so much to see? Then it hit me: We’d been up almost twenty-four hours. I was too excited to feel the effects of jet lag or our sleepless night. Now I realized that Elvis was probably getting tired, so I joined him on the bed. We read for a little while and then slept.
When we woke up, I thought Elvis might have something planned for us to do or something he might want to show me, since he’d been here before. He surprised me, though, by saying I should go with Terry and Rosemary to the beach in front of the hotel.
I wanted Elvis to come with us so badly, but how far could he walk outside without being recognized and most probably mobbed? Not far, I realized. Still, I hated the thought of just leaving him sitting here alone inside while the rest of us went out and enjoyed ourselves. There had to be a way to get him out of the hotel.
My sisters were back in the suite by now. The three of us tried talking Elvis into sneaking downstairs incognito. Rosemary suggested a wig and different glasses, but he shook his head.
“Nah,” he said. “I don’t wanna wear that.”
It was a beautiful hotel, but now I wondered who had arranged for us to stay in this particular place—a hotel where Elvis clearly couldn’t go outside and relax because there were too many people around.
When a few members of his entourage showed up in the suite to visit with Elvis, knowing he wouldn’t be alone, I decided to accompany my sisters to the beach. It truly was paradise, complete with palm trees and clear turquoise ocean. Rosemary stayed in the shade, but Terry and I picked out a spot on the sand where we could lie down on our towels and soak up the sun.
Rosemary was the smart one, it turned out. Terry and I were both oblivious to the strength of the sun’s rays in Hawaii. We weren’t on the beach long, but when we returned to the suite, Terry—who was fairer than I—discovered that her body and face were seriously sunburned. Her lips had blown up like little sausages! This was years before collagen would become fashionable, and Terry was mortified.
My face was also badly burned and my eyelids were swollen. The two of us were extremely embarrassed.
The minute Elvis saw us, he asked Larry to come to the suite to try some healing techniques on Terry. Larry arrived and Terry lay down on her bed. As Rosemary and I stood by watching, Larry and Elvis placed their hands a few inches above Terry’s back and legs, telling her to think of healing colors.
Elvis mentioned something about aloe vera gel and requested an aide to find us some; he told Terry she should spread it over her sunburn. Neither my sisters nor I were familiar with the gel, but Terry was in pain and I hoped that one of the things Elvis and Larry were kindly trying to do would comfort her. Before long, someone brought up some gel and Terry and I liberally applied it. It did help us feel a little better.
Hawaiian music continuously played outside by the beach. Later that evening, my sisters and I dared Elvis to go on the balcony and
sing along. He walked out; I stepped up beside him, and he began to sing. It was another perfect moment, as the flames from tiki torches softly lit the beach below us and I gazed out over the ocean while listening to Elvis serenade us.
At one point, I decided to call our parents to let them know we had arrived safely. I went with Rosemary and Terry into their room and dialed an operator to place a collect call. Elvis walked in and asked what I was doing.
“I’m trying to reach our parents.”
He took the phone from my hand and said into the receiver, “This is Elvis Presley and I’m trying to get connected.”
Of course the operator didn’t believe him. My sisters and I started laughing as he began singing in an effort to convince the woman.
It worked. Within seconds, I was speaking with my parents and letting them know that we were all fine.
Elvis relaxed for the rest of that evening, visiting with a few people in our suite, and then we went to bed. When we woke the next day, he decided to send me shopping with Rosemary and Terry.
Still wondering when, or even if, Elvis would ever go outside, I put on a crocheted halter-top and some jeans. As I started to leave, Elvis stopped me.
“Ginger, I don’t want you to go out like that,” he said.
Confused, I looked at him for a minute, wondering what was wrong with my outfit.
“I’d like you to wear a shirt over it,” he added.
Why was he saying that? Was he being protective? Did he not want other men looking at me?
This was the first time I’d ever seen Elvis react this way to something I had chosen to wear. I was flattered by his concern, no matter what had provoked it.
“Okay,” I said. I put a shirt on over my top and left with my sisters, who said they’d gone downstairs earlier and run into Lamar’s date, who was “as red as a lobster.”
The other woman had told them she purposely got sunburned the first day so Lamar wouldn’t touch her. She also had a pack of gum with her, and said she was constantly telling Lamar that she was going out for gum so she didn’t have to be in the same room with him. Terry and I got tickled as we realized that, for us, being sunburned was painful, but for Lamar’s date, it was apparently a relief.
• • •
While others dined out, my sisters and I ate in the suite with Elvis. After dinner, some members of the group came in to visit and later Elvis mentioned something about mai tais. This surprised me. Except for Charlie enjoying a cocktail, and a bottle of vodka I’d noticed once partially sticking out of a backpack Ricky carried on tour, I had yet to see Elvis or others around him drink.
When my sisters and I told Elvis we’d never had mai tais, he asked one of the guys to order some sent up to the suite. My sisters and I each had one, but Elvis drank three. Not long afterward he began marching in place. We all started laughing, especially when Elvis stood up on the couch and started walking back and forth across the cushions.
His face soon flushed red, though, and Elvis quickly sat down, telling us he shouldn’t really drink because he had high blood pressure and was taking pills for it. I was glad he told us. I’d had no idea.
Later on, Elvis called for a jeweler to come up again. This time he picked out puka shell necklaces for everyone, including himself. Kindly thinking of my mother, Elvis purchased one for her, too.
He also made the decision that night to rent a beach house so he could have some privacy. I was glad, feeling that now he’d be able to go outside and have fun with the rest of us.
Well into the early morning hours, my sisters and I were alone with Elvis. He was still in a jovial mood and brought up rats again. He was having fun, talking loudly and every so often shouting out something to do with rats. I loved cutting up with him, seeing him act like a big kid and having such a good time with my sisters. I was happy that Elvis seemed to have left his cares behind on the mainland.
Before going to sleep that morning, Elvis told me that, if I wanted to look around in the hotel shops downstairs later, I should, because we would be leaving that afternoon to view some houses.
When Elvis and I woke, I asked my sisters if they wanted to accompany me. Terry was still in pain from her sunburn so she opted to stay in her room, but Rosemary said she would go.
The two of us browsed through the stores downstairs for a while. When we returned, Terry met us in the living room and told us that Elvis had knocked on her door and come into her room. He had wanted yogurt and handed her his list with the entourage’s room numbers, asking her to call someone to get him some.
She had gone into the living room and started calling. No one was answering in any room, and Elvis began getting irritated as she went through the complete list.
“None of them checked to see if I needed anything,” Elvis had told her angrily. “These aren’t friends here.”
Wanting to help him, Terry had gone out into the hall and spoken with a guard stationed by the elevators, requesting yogurt for Elvis. It was soon brought up to the room.
Luckily, Elvis was in a better mood by the time I saw him, but I was sure he would have some hard words to say to a select few—if he hadn’t already.
• • •
To look at beach houses, Elvis got dressed in a light blue jogging suit, a navy nylon jacket, a pair of sneakers, and a terry-cloth hat. It was different to see him dressed like this. Jeans were popular, but I had yet to see Elvis wear any. Now I asked him why.
“Because I had to when I was little,” he replied. I suspected wearing jeans reminded Elvis of a time in his youth when his family had little money and that was all they could afford.
I gathered a few of my things and left the hotel with Elvis, my sisters, and a few of the others. It was a half hour ride to the other side of the island. From the windows of the limousine, I drank in the lush green countryside. The beauty of the island was beyond amazing.
We arrived at a private home and walked through it with a local liaison. In one room was a large window with a bizarre feature: When you pushed a button nearby, it looked like it was raining outside.
Elvis sat on a couch, relaxing for a moment and contemplating the house. Joe Esposito had come along with us. He had a camera with him and began taking pictures of Elvis.
Rosemary had taken a seat on the floor nearby and was paying attention to some others who were chatting. Suddenly, I noticed Elvis cut his eyes over at her. Rosemary looked back at him, smiled, then turned her attention elsewhere.
A big grin spread across his face as he continued to watch her. Shortly, he stood up and, as he walked past her, he suddenly turned and pounced. Rosemary fell backward with Elvis on top of her.
Someone snapped a picture of their spontaneous tussle while we all laughed. Then Elvis stood up and helped Rosemary to her feet.
Elvis decided he didn’t care for this first house, so we went to see another.
The second home was close to the beach and had access to a neighbor’s nearby pool. Elvis liked it and immediately decided this was where we would stay. He put my sisters in a bedroom close to ours, and placed Billy and Jo Smith in a room at the end of the hall. Dr. Nichopoulos would be in a room on the other side of the home and, as usual, Elvis wanted an aide or two staying at the house also. The remainder of the group would stay at the hotel.
Before long, the rest of the group arrived at the house and Elvis decided he wanted to go to the beach. It was so warm out, we found some scissors and cut off the long sleeves to the jacket of his jogging suit. I assumed someone would be going back to the hotel to bring our suitcases. Meanwhile, a group of us walked with Elvis down to the water, where he and I sat on some small foam boards on the sand.
A few people took a dip in the ocean, but Elvis and I remained on the beach, peacefully enjoying the serene view and watching the others swim. It felt wonderful to relax with him out in the sunshine.
Before
long, Joe pulled out his camera again and began taking more pictures. Beach mats were soon brought down to us and we rolled them open to have more room to sit or lie down. I had a Polaroid camera with me; out of respect for Elvis’s privacy, I had yet to take any photos of him. However, now that I saw Joe snap away, I decided to snap a couple of shots, too.
A few others began shooting photographs as well. Elvis sat with various people, joking and cutting up for photo ops. A short time later, Rosemary told me that when she’d been sitting beside Elvis, he had confessed to wishing only Polaroids were being taken. The problem with film being developed, he explained, was that the person doing it could then decide to sell the photographs. This was another reminder that his celebrity had sometimes taken away some of his enjoyment from ordinary activities that the rest of us take for granted.
Elvis and I finally fell asleep near dawn. When I woke that afternoon, Terry told me that when she and Rosemary first opened their bedroom door, they had seen a huge hunk of cheese sitting on the floor in their doorway. I laughed, pleased that all of our joking about rats seemed to have left quite an impression on Elvis! Someone had gone out earlier and bought some tops for Elvis to wear, but they were short-sleeved cotton sweatshirts. It was so warm out that I took some scissors and cut the neck out of one, making it larger so he could get it over his head more easily, and hoping the more open neckline would let more air in for him and keep him cooler.
I didn’t know if Elvis had any shorts or a swimsuit with him, since he chose to wear a pair of lightweight pants, but I decided to look for some shirts that were made of a lighter material for him. He arranged for someone to take my sisters and me shopping and we browsed around at some nearby stores. I purchased a few shirts I hoped he would like.
