by Ginger Alden
Besides playing with Amber or tearing around on her golf cart or Elvis’s three-wheelers, Lisa loved to sing. Sometimes, I’d find her sitting on the stairway at Graceland with Amber, singing Fleetwood Mac tunes like “Dreams.” She also loved to play the piano; some of the few times Elvis sat downstairs at Graceland, was to watch Lisa at the keyboard.
I played piano a little by ear myself. Occasionally, Elvis wanted Lisa and me to play together on the organ in his office while he listened. Once, Lisa was talking on the phone with her mother and asked me to play something on the organ. She held the phone my way, telling Priscilla to listen. Embarrassed by my so-so ability, but wanting to please Lisa, I chose something short.
One afternoon I arrived at Graceland to find Elvis in his room, seated in bed. He shook his head in wonder at me and said, “Lisa came into my room earlier, walked up to me, and asked, ‘Daddy, you love Ginger more than you love Linda, don’t you?’ I told her, ‘Yes, but now don’t forget that Linda was nice to you, she took you places and did a lot of things for you.’ She said, ‘I know, I’m just happy.’” Elvis made a walking movement with his fingers, and added, “She skipped out of the room.”
It was nice of Elvis not to want Lisa to think less of Linda just because he was with me, I thought, and I could see how relieved he was that Lisa approved of me. I was glad, too. I’d been hoping that many of the people around Elvis, especially his family, would come to accept me, but no one was more important in this regard than Lisa.
I had yet to tell anyone outside my family and close friends about our engagement and Elvis had still yet to tell Lisa. I wore my engagement ring most of the time at Graceland, rarely taking it off but to wash my face. However, because the ring was so valuable, sometimes I felt safer, when going home, to leave it in the jewelry box Elvis had given me.
Several days later, however, I happened to be in Lisa’s room when she came up to me and asked if her daddy and I were going to get married.
My answer nearly got caught in my throat, thinking someone must have told her about our engagement. “I hope so,” I told her, completely caught off guard. I knew how much Elvis wanted to tell her at the “right time,” and I didn’t want to jump the gun.
Right away, she called me her “second mommy.” Lisa’s innocent, pure acceptance of me made me feel really good. Later, I learned that the reason Lisa had asked me about our marriage was because she’d been playing in my bathroom with one of her friends when I was away and she’d seen my engagement ring in my jewelry box. Her friend had been the one who’d explained to her what the ring meant.
As a father, I knew Elvis had been anxious about telling her, but I also knew that Lisa knowing about our engagement, and accepting it, would surely make things easier for Elvis as it had now for me. I went into the bedroom and told him about what had just happened with Lisa. His look, a mixture of surprise and relief, seemed to say, “Okay . . . the cat’s out of the bag now, I’ll talk to Lisa . . . here we go.”
Shortly after that, Lisa joined us. Calling me Mommy, she giggled, and then said that she was going to call me Mommy even in front of her mother.
Elvis and I exchanged looks that said exactly the same thing: “That will go over well.” I didn’t like to think about how Priscilla might respond to this, and I’m sure Elvis didn’t either. But at least our concern about what effect this would have on Lisa had been completely unnecessary. Lisa clearly seemed fine about the idea of us getting married.
• • •
There was a fairly new amusement park in Memphis called Libertyland, and one day I decided it would be fun to take Lisa and Amber there.
“Can Lisa go?” I asked Elvis.
He said it was fine and didn’t mention anything about having a bodyguard with us. I assumed this was because he felt more relaxed about security in our hometown.
Terry was away, but I invited my mother and Rosemary to come along, as they had yet to meet Lisa. We drove to Graceland from our house to get her. Lisa was ready and waiting for us, sitting on the front porch and wearing a swimsuit, flip-flops, and a shirt wrapped around her waist.
After parking at Libertyland, we were walking toward the entrance when a couple stopped us. “Is that Lisa Presley?” they asked.
I was startled. It still amazed me that Lisa was so easily recognized by the public. We had a great time on the rides, and on the way home, we stopped at a local 7-Eleven store.
Lisa and Amber jumped out of the car before I did, but then Lisa stopped. She had to have an older person with her, she said, and I was relieved to see that she’d already developed a sense of caution that most kids her age lacked. She was always going to need to protect herself in ways most of us never have to think about.
A few days later, I was leaving Graceland to go home when Lisa asked if she could come with me to see Amber. I took her with me and the two of them played a little.
When she saw Odyssey, my Great Dane, Lisa decided on the spot that she wanted a puppy. I hesitated. I knew this would be a big undertaking, especially because Lisa was at Graceland only part-time.
“You’ll have to ask your father first,” I said.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I don’t have to ask him.”
I was a little taken aback, but amused by her attempt to sway me. “Well, the stores are closed right now anyway.”
She gave me a look of bewilderment, and no wonder: When Elvis shopped, people opened stores especially for him.
“We still have to ask your father,” I repeated.
She smiled, but I could tell my words didn’t sit too well with her. She then took a nearby pen and a piece of paper, writing “come on,” and a few choice words of protest.
I began tickling her and she started to laugh. Everything was good again. Later, when I took Lisa back to Graceland, she seemed to have forgotten all about wanting a puppy and never mentioned it to Elvis.
The more time I spent with Lisa, the more aware I became that Lisa knew full well what a special place she held in the world as Elvis’s daughter. She had the qualities of a leader and generally took charge whenever she was playing with other children, including Amber.
Once, one of the children Lisa had been playing with came up and told Elvis that Lisa had called his nurse, Tish, an inappropriate name. Elvis immediately asked Lisa to see him in his bedroom.
As he gently began reprimanding her, Lisa started to cry, and Elvis looked hurt. I didn’t know who was more upset by the scolding—Lisa or Elvis.
CHAPTER 25
As the summer progressed, Elvis continued to spend his time relaxing at Graceland and every so often, at my parents’ home. During one of his unannounced visits to our house, Elvis stepped into our foyer and our poodle, which he’d nicknamed Mud Face because of the dog’s markings, began humping his leg.
With Mud Face clinging to him, Elvis started laughing and proceeded to walk into our den. “Get off me, Mud Face,” he snapped, still smiling, “or I’ll knock your dick stiff.”
My mother and a friend of hers were sitting in the den. I was used to Elvis’s off-color language by now, which he typically curtailed a bit in front of my mom, but now they both stared at him.
“Elvis, this is the minister’s wife,” my mother said.
With a sheepish smile, he immediately apologized.
My mother laughed. “I was joking,” she said.
Relief swept over his face. Elvis visited with us for a while and was nice enough to go into the music room to play the piano and sing for us.
A few nights later, Elvis wanted to take me into his trophy room again. There was so much to see, and I was sure there would be even more new things now. He gave me a teddy bear from one of the shelves and a framed black-and-white photo of himself taken when he was younger. As we were looking at a color photo taken of him on the set of the movie Charro!, I casually mentioned that I liked westerns, which I’d
often watched with my dad, and Elvis gave me that photograph as well.
“You know,” Elvis said as we continued through the room, “if anything ever happens to me, I want you and Lisa to take people on tours through the trophy room.”
I didn’t think much about the statement at the time. It was just an offhand remark. Elvis was a young man. In all the time I knew him, he never talked about death or seemed to act like he was worried that he might not have a long life. That night, I knew he was referring to a time in the distant future, and that this was Elvis’s way of saying that he saw us having a life together. It touched me that he wanted to involve me as one of the guardians of his legacy.
Before leaving the trophy room, Elvis also gave me his ninth-degree black belt karate certificate. It had been presented to him on his birthday and was signed by Ed Parker.
Another night that summer, the two of us were sitting in Elvis’s bed when he got up to use the restroom, suddenly turned around, and announced, “I’d like us to have our picture taken professionally.”
I smiled, thinking this would be great. My family and I had always respected Elvis’s privacy and refrained from photographing him, other than the few snapshots I’d taken in Hawaii. I had very few pictures of the two of us together.
“I’d really like that, too,” I replied.
Elvis smiled back and said, “I need to lose some weight,” then continued into the bathroom.
I was surprised. This was the first time I’d ever heard Elvis mention anything directly to me about his weight.
When you’re with someone almost every day, you don’t really notice that person’s weight fluctuations. Although, on occasion, I did notice that Elvis appeared to look a little thinner after a show from losing fluid by perspiring. Because Elvis struggled with fluid retention and occasionally got cortisone shots for pain, I had never looked at him as being that overweight. There were just some days when he seemed a bit bloated. If he wanted to lose some weight, I wanted to help him. I knew it would be better for his health in the long run if he probably did lose a few pounds.
Later that night, Elvis had some ice cream sent up to the room. As I looked at the small mountains of ice cream in the bowl, I wondered, What about losing weight? I knew the maids were unaware that he wanted to shed a few pounds and I felt compelled to say something here.
“Elvis, you just said you wanted to lose weight,” I pointed out. “You don’t need to eat that ice cream.”
Without saying a word, he threw the bowl against the wall and then glared at me with anger. This hurt me, and although I felt my anger rising, too, I kept my cool, got down on the floor, and began cleaning up. As difficult as that moment was, I was still glad I’d chosen to speak up rather than remain silent. I looked at the ice cream on the floor as another small win, if only because now Elvis couldn’t eat it.
Elvis sulked for a bit, and continued to remain quiet as I called one of the maids to come upstairs and help finish cleaning up. I could only imagine what she thought. I remained quiet as well for a little while after the maid left, and Elvis finally said that he was sorry. I accepted his apology. I knew it was hard for him to admit to any weakness. Because he’d said he was sorry, I did think that, deep down at least, he recognized I had spoken up because I was trying to do something good for him out of love.
• • •
By the middle of July, the weather had turned very hot. Elvis began talking about how my mother’s home was now taken care of and how the next step would be to put in a pool and some landscaping. He asked me to invite my mother and Rosemary over so that he could discuss this, but didn’t want me to tell them his plan yet.
Elvis was in a lighthearted, fun mood that day, which led him to want to play a small joke on the two of them. He asked Al Strada to run out to McDonald’s for some gift certificates.
When my mother and Rosemary arrived, Elvis invited them up to his office and gave them a hug. They took a seat on one of the couches in the room.
I followed Elvis over to his desk. He sat down and we began waiting for Al. Meanwhile, trying to create suspense, Elvis occasionally whispered a few things to me. I could barely suppress a giggle because I could tell by their faces that my mom and sister were wondering what in the world was going on.
It took Al a long time. Elvis was growing impatient when Al finally returned. “Where were you?” Elvis demanded.
“I got a speeding ticket,” Al confessed. He handed Elvis the certificates.
Of course my mother and Rosemary couldn’t see what they were. Elvis made a big show of writing “fifty cents” on each gift certificate, then asked Rosemary and my mother to stand up. He walked toward them, hiding the certificates behind his back.
“Hold out your hands,” he said solemnly.
When they complied, Elvis placed a certificate, facedown, in each of their palms. The certificates looked like checks.
When my mother and Rosemary turned over the certificates, they burst out laughing.
Elvis got the biggest kick out of his joke. After a few minutes, though, he said, “Those are just the French fries. Here are your Big Macs.” He then handed a generous check to my mother and another one to Rosemary.
Overwhelmed, they hugged and thanked him. My jaw dropped. Elvis hadn’t let me in on this part of the joke. He must have written the checks out beforehand because I never saw him do it.
Reassuring my mother that she wouldn’t have any more financial worries now, Elvis told her that her home had been taken care of and all he had left to do was put in the pool and landscaping. “I want to set up a bank account for you, too, so that you won’t have to work full-time,” he said.
Then, looking at Rosemary, Elvis added, “I’m going to have Joe put you on the payroll, to accompany Ginger on tours, to assist her.”
The three of us were stunned into silence. What could we say to this?
Shortly after that, Elvis mentioned that he thought his throat might be getting a little sore.
My mother said, “Let me feel your forehead,” and he leaned toward her. Putting her palm up to his forehead, she said, “You do feel a little warm.”
From his smile, I could tell he appreciated my mother’s sincere attention and concern. I sure hoped he wasn’t getting sick.
The phone buzzed. Elvis answered it, then said, “Let’s go downstairs.”
We followed him, wondering what he had up his sleeve now.
Sure enough, Elvis wasn’t finished astounding us with his generosity. Parked next to the porch was a brand-new green TR-6 convertible. “This is for you, Ginger,” he said. “I bought the last one in Memphis.”
I have a new car? I was blown away and ecstatic. Looking inside, though, I saw that the car had a manual transmission. Then I was concerned. My father had once tried teaching me how to drive a manual, but I was no expert.
Determined to master my new car despite this obstacle, I gave Elvis a hug and jumped into the driver’s seat, asking Rosemary to join me for a spin. I began inching my way down the driveway, lurching, braking, and praying.
Looking back a few minutes later, I saw Elvis standing beside my mother on the porch, the two of them laughing. I made it out the back entrance and then lurched to a stop, momentarily baffled. I was unable to figure out how to make the car go forward or in reverse.
A fan suddenly jumped out of nowhere and snapped our picture. I was fine with having my picture taken, but embarrassed about having anyone see me jerk up and down the road in this new car. One thing was for sure: I wasn’t about to make a hasty getaway.
When we returned to the house, it was starting to get dark. Lisa was at Graceland and had been riding around on her golf cart. She zoomed over and stopped when she saw us, asking my mother and Rosemary to join her. They climbed into the cart and I laughed as she took off with my mother and sister, whose faces betrayed more than a hint of fear.
Before long, my mother and Rosemary joined us again. They were laughing and said they’d had quite the experience, chasing the horses around out back on Lisa’s golf cart. Elvis then decided he wanted to show us a tape about President Kennedy’s assassination, which he said the comedian Mort Sahl had given him.
“Mort didn’t want it because he told me he was getting death threats,” Elvis said. I was intrigued and remembered Elvis once mentioning Kennedy’s assassination to me, after coming back from our “first date” to Las Vegas.
That night, Elvis showed us a tape that contained still shots of what looked like a gunman in a bush by the grassy knoll in Dallas, Texas. He started telling us about something called the Gemstone File, a conspiracy theory surrounding Kennedy’s death. I was fascinated as Elvis talked about this theory. He was convinced that Lee Harvey Oswald didn’t act alone on that tragic day. I found myself wondering if what Elvis said was true.
• • •
Elvis continued to present me with one surprise after another that July. Late one night he suddenly announced that he wanted to go look at wedding dresses. I got excited as Elvis phoned Billy Smith, told him what we wanted to do, and asked him to come up.
Elvis and I were sitting on the bed in his room. When Billy walked in, Elvis pointed his finger at him and started talking to him about our wedding. “This is the big one, Billy. After this, there won’t be another. This time it’s gonna be right, man. It’s gonna blow some people away.”
He asked Billy to get Jo, too. I never saw Elvis change clothes so quickly. Then the four or us climbed into Elvis’s Stutz and cruised the mostly empty streets. I was nearly trembling with excitement after hearing Elvis talk so openly about our marriage. Had he finally had a sign that the time was right to set a date?
