by Ginger Alden
Elvis wasn’t in his office, so I walked into the bedroom and then looked toward the bathroom. I saw Elvis inside looking pensive, sitting in the black chair with one leg crossed over the other, shaking his foot. As I stepped into the bathroom doorway, I saw Charlie. He was perched on the toilet seat with his back to me. Neither of them was speaking.
I walked around Charlie to see his face and gasped in horror. His nose was all bloodied and swollen! “What happened?” I asked.
With a nervous laugh, Elvis said, “Well, Charlie was drinkin’ and mouthin’ off about me givin’ cars to Kathy and Larry, and sayin’ somethin’ about him gettin’ a Rolls-Royce and prices, and was embarrassin’ me. I told him to shut up. He was spoilin’ the moment.” Shrugging his shoulders, Elvis added, “He asked me to hit him, so I hit him.”
I looked at Charlie, trying to process this. It was obvious he had been drinking. Now he laughed stiffly, as if everything was okay and he could pass the incident off as inconsequential.
The two of them joked around for a few moments, but the mood in the room hung heavily over the two of them. Charlie left soon after that.
I could tell Elvis felt terrible about what had happened. Shaking his head, he said, “Charlie shouldn’t have done that.” He kept repeating this over and over, acting very disappointed with Charlie. They were both in the wrong, I thought.
Charlie had to have known that big, gift-giving moments were important to Elvis. Of course, Elvis should never have punched him. How could he have hit his good friend?
For something like this to happen, I began wondering if things had been building up between Elvis and Charlie. I continued to listen to Elvis and tried to calm him down.
“Charlie will come back around,” I said, but Charlie didn’t reappear and Elvis wasn’t about to go downstairs and seek him out.
We finally went to sleep in the morning and woke in the afternoon. Charlie didn’t come around to see Elvis the next day, either. Elvis was really down, and he started talking to me about taking a trip to Las Vegas.
We had just come back from a tour and I felt Elvis was simply trying to run away from what had happened. I told Billy this in private when I saw him next. He said I shouldn’t go to Las Vegas with Elvis, because Elvis “would probably get something he didn’t need.”
What did he mean by that? I was confused.
I didn’t press Billy with questions at the time, but in retrospect, I wish I had.
I didn’t want Elvis to go to Las Vegas, so I boldly told him he shouldn’t run away from the problem. “Charlie will get over it, Elvis,” I said. “We should stay in Memphis.” He looked glum, grew quiet, and didn’t say any more about going to Vegas. I continued trying to cheer him up and, luckily, before long, Elvis acted like he was in a better mood.
In the morning, I returned home. Later, however, when I called Graceland, I was told that Elvis wasn’t there. I was puzzled. Did he actually go to Las Vegas after all?
Unable to reach him, I became concerned. In the middle of the night, Elvis called me at home. I suspected he was phoning me from Las Vegas. From his heavy sounding voice, it sounded like he’d taken some sleep medication. “I miss you,” he said.
“I miss you, too,” I told him. “Where are you?” There was silence on the phone. He didn’t say. I knew that, in his condition, we couldn’t really have any sort of conversation. We spoke briefly, said we loved each other, then said good night. My heart sank as we hung up. I prayed Elvis was all right and would come home soon.
The following afternoon, someone called from Graceland to say Elvis wanted to see me. I thought it was odd they didn’t put him on the phone. This concerned me and I was on edge. What had happened?
I rushed over, and when I entered Elvis’s room, I was greeted by the sight of Elvis lying in bed on his side, facing me with his eyes closed and hooked up to an IV. Scared, my heart sank again. I had never seen Elvis like this before.
Charlie, Billy, and a few others were standing around. Dr. Nichopoulos was sitting in a chair.
“What happened?” I asked.
Charlie told me that Elvis had gone to Las Vegas and taken too much medication.
I had one burning question. Why?
It crushed me to see him like this. Everyone stood about the room, quiet. Gradually, Dr. Nichopoulos and the guys began slowly exiting the room. I lay down beside Elvis. How could he have let the incident with Charlie do this to him? I wanted so badly to understand what had been going through his mind.
I stared up at the ceiling, brokenhearted, and my eyes welled up. Suddenly, I felt Elvis move on the bed beside me. I looked over as he began rolling over onto his back.
Turning his head my way, Elvis slowly opened his eyes. He didn’t say a word, but with an unsteady hand, he took his finger and wiped a tear from my eye.
I took his hand.
I tried to smile at him, but it was difficult. All I could think about, over and over again, was how Elvis was always surrounded by people, so how could someone have let this happen?
The questions swirled in my mind as confusion and anger blurred my vision. Billy seemed to have known that Elvis might do something like this. Who went to Las Vegas with Elvis? Elvis would never have gone on his own. Did others have prior experience with this sort of behavior from Elvis? If so, why didn’t they stop him if they thought it would be a bad thing? What had Dr. Nichopoulos been thinking when he saw Elvis like this?
It took me a long time to fall asleep. When the two of us woke up the next day, I was relieved to see Elvis acting more like his old self. Whatever had been troubling him, he seemed determined to put it behind him, behaving as if all was well. Charlie was back around and so I chose to let things return to normal, but there was a lot left unsaid between us.
In retrospect, I can’t help but feel that Elvis’s plunge into that kind of extreme depression for those few days was exacerbated by Elvis’s knowledge of the scathingly negative book coming out, written by his former bodyguards Dave Hebler and Red and Sonny West.
• • •
Elvis soon returned to his usual upbeat mood after this incident. One day, I was getting ready to go home to check on Odyssey when he said, “You can drive my Stutz if you want.”
This would be cool, I thought, but when I put my hands on the steering wheel, I had sudden misgivings. If ever there was a time when I wouldn’t want to put dents in a car, it was this one!
I drove the Stutz home as cautiously as possible. I played with Odyssey for a while and then decided to take Terry with me in the Stutz over to see our friend Cindy.
As we pulled into her driveway, Cindy stepped outside. When Terry and I got out to meet her, a man from the press suddenly approached us, wanting to take my picture beside the car.
I hadn’t noticed anyone following us, but then it dawned on me that of course someone would notice the Stutz. It certainly wasn’t the kind of automobile one saw every day. Most people would suspect it belonged to Elvis.
I didn’t want to publicly flaunt Elvis’s car and declined to pose for the photographer. He decided to put Cindy in the picture. The photo appeared in our local paper the next day along with a small write-up referring to me as Elvis’s “friend,” taking the car for a spin.
Not long after that, Elvis told me CBS planned to do a special on him. They would be filming some of his performances during his next tour. Elvis wanted me to have some new outfits to wear and sent me to Los Angeles to go shopping with Rosemary. I was excited to finally see Los Angeles. Elvis put Joe in charge of setting things up. We stayed at the Westwood Marquis Hotel with our own limousine and driver at our beck and call.
Rosemary and I stopped by Joe’s apartment while we visited L.A., where he showed us some photo albums with pictures of Elvis taken through the years. I realized that Joe had known Elvis for a long time. He also had some older photos of Elvis and Priscilla on
his walls. I knew Joe’s girlfriend, Shirley, was friends with Priscilla and now I figured Joe must be, too.
Elvis had forgotten to give me money before we left, so Joe called him. Elvis wired the money to a local Western Union office. When Joe saw that Elvis had wired $2,000, he laughed.
“That would only pay for one of Linda’s outfits,” he said.
Linda must have had expensive tastes, I thought. Two thousand dollars was more than enough money to buy clothes for me.
We were in L.A. for just two days, but Rosemary and I made the most of it, not only shopping but visiting Universal Studios and sightseeing around the city. Our adventure got even more interesting when we departed on an American Airlines flight and discovered that the singers Kenny Rogers and Brenda Lee were both on board as well as the actor David Huddleston.
I remembered David from the film Blazing Saddles. He had fun walking around and telling jokes to Rosemary and me. Rosemary egged him on and asked him to repeat some of his funniest lines from the film.
Kenny Rogers was a friendly, down-to-earth man dressed in jeans and a sport coat. He sat in front of us, and I told him that Elvis and I had recently enjoyed watching him on television, singing “Sweet Music Man,” a song Elvis loved. Kenny generously gave me a cassette tape recording of his yet-to-be-released album, which contained the song.
Brenda Lee was friendly as well. While she and I were talking, Brenda noticed a stain on my top and said she had a new product from Japan designed to clean fabrics. She went back to her seat, then returned to ease herself between Rosemary and me, where she began applying the product to my top and trying to rub out the spot.
As I watched Brenda earnestly do her best to help clean my outfit, I wondered if she, Kenny, or David would have even spoken to me a year ago. I knew that was unlikely. Being with Elvis had made this possible. Once again, he had introduced me to a new and exciting facet of his celebrity world—even when he wasn’t with me.
By the time I returned to Graceland, Lisa was in town. It was good to see her, and she seemed happy to have my company as well, even calling me “Gingerbread” after hearing Elvis use my nickname. Elvis had yet to tell Lisa about our engagement. He had earlier talked with me about this and said that he wanted to wait until the right time, a time when he felt comfortable telling her. This would represent a significant change in his daughter’s life, and he wanted the announcement handled properly. He had asked me not to share the news with her yet, either. This was something I had understood completely.
Lisa was usually out and about on the grounds of Graceland, playing with friends or family members, or riding around on her golf cart. One day, she invited me to ride with her. I got on and she took off fast, bouncing around the grounds and chasing the horses, stirring up dust in our wake. It was great fun, and I looked forward to spending more time with her in the future.
• • •
One afternoon, I was sitting at the foot of Elvis’s bed and talking with him while he stood at his bathroom sink, dressed in pajamas and a robe, and smoking a cigar. The window was raised a little in his bathroom; suddenly, I saw him turn, move quickly toward the window, and look out.
He then raced out of the bathroom past me, grabbing a machine gun as I shouted, “Elvis, what is it?”
I quickly followed him downstairs as Elvis ran out the front door. He stopped on the porch and looked around. “I heard screaming and saw someone with a gun chasing Lisa and the other girls,” he said breathlessly.
I froze beside him, frightened, scanning the grounds.
Then I noticed his cousin’s kids and their friends playing off to one side of the house. One of the teenagers had a plastic gun and was chasing the others.
I told Elvis this and, as relief swept over him, he started to laugh. I did, too. I knew the fear of intruders was always with him, and I was glad this time nothing was amiss.
Elvis stood on the porch with me for a few minutes, his robe gently blowing in the wind, a cigar between his lips and a machine gun in his hand, as we caught our breath. Then I noticed one of the pink tour jeeps, filled with fans, slowly making its way up the driveway.
“Elvis, the jeep is coming,” I said.
He turned around and quickly headed back inside. Following him, I closed the door, knowing as the jeep passed by, they now had a postcard-tranquil vision of the mansion.
CHAPTER 23
Elvis’s next tour would start on June 17. My sister Terry was relinquishing the Miss Tennessee crown at that time, and the director of the state pageant had asked her to invite Elvis. When she mentioned this to him, he thanked her but declined, saying he didn’t want to detract from the pageant. He had been unaware that his own tour was starting on that date anyway, since others handled his schedule and travel arrangements.
I knew I wouldn’t have another chance to see Terry in her crown, so I asked Elvis if it would be all right if I missed the first day of his tour to attend my sister’s ceremony. He understood that I wanted to support her and arranged for me to join him after the pageant.
While Elvis flew to Springfield, Missouri, for the start of his ten-day tour, I traveled to Jackson, Tennessee, with my family. We watched Terry give up her crown, and it was a bittersweet moment.
Afterward, I flew into Kansas City, Missouri, on a Learjet, which Elvis had chartered for me, to join the tour.
The CBS special would be Elvis’s first since his Aloha from Hawaii satellite show, and filming began on June 19 in Omaha, Nebraska.
• • •
Al Schultz, the husband of comedian Vicki Lawrence, had been hired to do Elvis’s makeup for the CBS special. I watched Al apply it in the dressing area of Elvis’s bathroom before departing the Lisa Marie. Of course, I had never seen Elvis in base makeup needed for television, and when he stepped out, I thought it looked a little caked on, pasty and thick. Elvis looked much better without it. I really didn’t know much about television and stage makeup. Maybe this much makeup was necessary for the camera.
Elvis was in a good mood, but I could tell he was quite nervous. By the time the show started, however, his movements were slow and he seemed hazy at times. I guessed that the doctor must have prescribed Elvis something to help calm him down, which would explain why Elvis was acting so sluggish. I rooted for him, as always, but it wasn’t one of his best performances.
The following show in Lincoln, Nebraska, was better. Elvis was in complete control. Filming picked up again the next night inside the Rushmore Plaza Civic Center in Rapid City, South Dakota.
Vernon and Sandy were along on this tour. In South Dakota, we were ushered into a backstage dressing room. The three of us sat on a couch, watching while Elvis was filmed accepting a plaque from the mayor. The plaque was being given to him in honor of this being the first concert ever held in the city’s new auditorium.
Elvis normally didn’t like to wait backstage long. I could tell he was hot in his jumpsuit by the way he’d started to perspire. A young Native American girl then presented Elvis with a medallion of life from the Sioux Nation while we were all waiting for the show to begin.
In the distance, I could hear the crowd chanting as they eagerly awaited Elvis, but his focus was on the young girl. His face lit up. He had such a soft spot for children. Elvis kept complimenting the girl, trying to put her at ease, and gave her a kiss.
When Joe told Elvis it was time to get ready for the show, I could tell Elvis felt like Joe was rushing him, which he didn’t like. “When I’ve got something to do,” he said, “I’ll be there when I get there.”
Elvis could have simply walked away after getting his award, but he stood there, continuing to focus on the Native American girl. He wanted to see that she was given something in return, and finally asked an aide to make sure she received one of his scarves.
Elvis’s show went well that night. At one point, he walked to the side of the stage and introduced his f
ather. He mentioned how he had missed Vernon not being able to be on tour because he’d been sick for a while.
Elvis then began walking toward me. I noticed a gleam in his eye and got nervous. Raising his arm, he pointed his finger at me.
“I’d like you . . . I’d like you to say hello to my girlfriend, Ginger,” he announced. “Ginger, stand up, honey.”
Shyly, I stood up, blushing furiously amid the clapping and whistling. Elvis quickly said, “Sit down, Ginger. That’s enough for her.”
A wonderful feeling swept over me. He had introduced me to the world!
Elvis then broke into the song, “Hurt,” and I silently began pulling for him, as there were certain notes he liked to reach in various songs. He hit his notes that night and I thought he did a magnificent job.
After Elvis’s death, there would be some fans who would question why he didn’t take this opportunity to introduce me as his fiancée during this time, despite my engagement ring, but I understood. First and foremost, Lisa didn’t know about our engagement yet, and he wanted her to be prepared. Elvis had made some people close to him aware of it back in January, but that was the private Elvis.
In addition, Elvis was a professional entertainer. He knew our announcement would have huge publicity consequences, and being very protective of me and our relationship, I knew he wasn’t ready to have the press focus on me even more. I didn’t think twice about any of this that night. I was simply thrilled that he’d introduced me on camera.
Occasionally, the crowd was particularly rowdy, and I always worried that a fan might get hurt. I’m sure some did, especially those who pushed to the front of the auditoriums to grab one of Elvis’s scarves, but I was never really afraid for my own safety. I was, however, worried that an especially enthusiastic fan might accidentally hurt Elvis, since I’d seen him get scratched before. One time, near the end of a performance, someone threw something onto the stage and the object struck Elvis in the head.
