Elvis and Ginger: Elvis Presley's Fiancée and Last Love Finally Tells Her Story

by Ginger Alden

  The script was still being written, so I read something else and got the part of a model/girlfriend to the country singer. The producer said he would also develop parts for my sisters. Filming was supposed to begin later in the year. Finally, I felt like my new life was beginning.

  As sure as things in my life were looking up, however, I momentarily got pulled back down again. A short while after being back in Memphis, on February 18, I was handed a subpoena to appear for a session of a grand jury investigation into Elvis’s doctor, George Nichopoulos. The grand jury had been convened to find out whether he had acted responsibly in caring for Elvis according to the codes and ethics of his profession. After all, why did a forty-two-year-old man die? The bottom line: Dr. Nichopoulos was being investigated for overprescribing medication to Elvis.

  Being served the subpoena only reminded me that I’d had the same concerns about Elvis and his sleep packets. Doctors, nurses, and dentists had consistently cared for Elvis, and I was a twenty-year-old girl who’d experienced only normal interactions with the medical community, like checkups. I had looked up to the health professionals caring for Elvis as responsible healers and had no reason to think otherwise.

  When I entered Elvis’s amazing world, where he could have the best of everything, I had certainly thought that his doctors must be the best. They had to know what they were doing; this was Elvis they were caring for, after all. I had assumed he was receiving the best medical care money could buy.

  Now that I’m older and somewhat wiser, I have many lingering questions about Elvis’s medical treatments. However, at the time, Elvis and those around him had never raised any questions about his healthcare or impugned Dr. Nichopoulos’s capabilities.

  The grand jury was convened on the third floor at 211 Poplar Avenue. My mother accompanied me and the two of us saw the Graceland maid, Nancy Rooks, in the ladies’ bathroom. We hugged each other and she told me Aunt Delta was afraid because she had given Elvis a third packet of medication the morning he died. I was so stunned, I didn’t even know how to respond. This was a major thing if it were true! I was too focused on the grand jury investigation to start asking questions as I had never been in anything like this before. My mother and I went out the door, wondering, Had Nancy told this to anyone else? Did Vernon know? This was his sister. I was aware that right after Elvis’s death, Vernon had stated in our local paper that his sister had just taken water and a paper up to Elvis that morning. Had she also brought a third packet up, while I was sleeping? If so, what was in it? Could this have contributed to Elvis’s death?

  Nobody asked me about this during the grand jury questioning. I would go on to hear rumors about this third packet over the years but I don’t know whether it was ever determined that one was actually brought up to Elvis.

  Dr. Nichopoulos was eventually acquitted on all counts, but many years later he would ultimately lose his license to practice medicine in the state of Tennessee.

  February didn’t turn out to be a very good month at all, as my mother was now backed into a financial corner. When she had agreed to her divorce, she didn’t ask for any alimony from my father because Elvis told her that her mortgage was being paid off. With her funds now at a low point, she sought legal counsel and was told that she was entitled to the full payment of her mortgage, the gift Elvis had promised her and thought had been taken care of before he passed away. As difficult as it was for her emotionally, she decided to follow the advice of an attorney and file a lawsuit against the estate for the full payment of her mortgage in an attempt to keep her home. At one point, Elvis’s stepbrother David Stanley offered to help, which was very appreciated, but my mother’s attorney decided that he wasn’t needed.

  Some people incorrectly saw this as my mother attacking the estate, and thereby attacking Elvis. They were wrong. My mother—my entire family—loved Elvis dearly and would never do anything to besmirch his memory.

  Of course, my mother’s lawsuit rapidly became fodder for the tabloids and news shows. Around the same time, I also began seeing bits and pieces of interviews with some of the people who’d known Elvis saying that I was no longer welcome at Graceland. This was painful, as I knew none of them had a clue about the truth of what had happened regarding the lawsuit.

  On March 24, I was astonished to get a call from Vernon Presley. As Terry handed me the phone, I was even more nervous speaking to him because of the lawsuit.

  “Hello,” I said.

  It was immediately apparent that Vernon had also heard some of the negative comments in the press, because he said, “Ginger, you’re always welcome at Graceland. Just let me know when you’re coming and I’ll mention it to the guard at the gates.”

  Vernon’s words were extremely comforting. “Thank you, Mr. Presley,” I said. Out of respect, I had never called him Vernon.

  We didn’t speak long and as I hung up, I believed this call came as a result of Vernon knowing what his son had wanted to do for my family, no matter how things turned out legally.

  • • •

  Life moves forward no matter what kind of emotional state you’re in. I could feel myself slowly continuing to heal, and I was finally up to visiting Elvis’s grave again. I called Vernon to arrange it, and on July 10, I took Rosemary with me after Graceland was closed to the public for the afternoon.

  It was an overcast day. Rosemary and I walked down to the meditation garden and I placed a potted plant beside Elvis’s grave. As the sun momentarily peeked through the clouds, Rosemary and I glanced at each other and smiled, remembering how Elvis had raised his hands to part the clouds in Palm Springs during our visit there.

  Just then, I saw Vernon’s truck pull up to the front of Graceland. A few minutes later he joined us. It was good to see him and I gave Vernon a hug.

  He walked around with Rosemary and me, pointing out some improvements that had been made to the area by the graves. Before long, Rosemary and I prepared to say good-bye.

  As he started to walk away, Vernon glanced toward the pastures and said, “Lisa’s around here somewhere.” It had been almost a year since I’d seen her. It would be nice to see her again.

  Rosemary and I headed toward our car. In the distance I saw Lisa on her golf cart, watching us. I waved to her and yelled, “Hi, Lisa!”

  Smiling, she called, “Hi!” back at me.

  Rosemary shouted, “Just what are you doing?” in a teasing voice.

  Lisa laughed, took off on her golf cart, looped back around, and stopped again, looking at us.

  Rosemary yelled, “Come over here.”

  “I can’t!” Lisa said.

  In unison, Rosemary and I shouted, “Why not?”

  Lisa replied, “I was told not to talk with anyone.”

  It was a strange moment. I understood the fear for Lisa’s safety when she visited Graceland, but this was crazy. On the other hand, nobody was around to ask if we could approach her, and I didn’t want to go banging on any doors looking for Vernon.

  In the end, we called good-bye to Lisa.

  A sad feeling came over me again. I wished I had gotten to know her better, I thought wistfully. Driving out the back way, I looked in my rearview mirror and saw Lisa as she raced along in the distance. She stopped the golf cart for a moment to watch us drive out the back gate.

  I knew Elvis was watching over her. Lisa looked happy, and I was glad. I hoped life would be good to her and keep her that way.

  This would be the last time I would ever go back to Graceland.

  CHAPTER 29

  My mother’s lawsuit was turned on a legality known as promissory estoppel, and she lost because there was no written contract. We were disappointed, but my mother’s lawyers said they would take it to the court of appeals.

  When I signed a contract to do the film Living Legend, I did so naively without having it reviewed by an agent or entertainment attorney. There was no script approval c
lause, and no other protections for me that people usually think of as standard in the industry. I only knew the script was still in development.

  I was excited to finally be doing something on my own. When the producer had mentioned developing parts for my sisters as well, they had thought it would be fun, and I was looking forward to having a chance to work with them on a project.

  At one point, the screenwriter and producer visited my sisters and me in Memphis to get ideas for character development. With the script still in the works, I traveled to North Carolina and staying at the producer’s studio complex during preproduction, I went into wardrobe and saw a jumpsuit similar to one that Elvis had worn.

  My mouth went dry. What was this? A country singer wouldn’t wear this outfit! I felt terrible and then suddenly understood: The singer in the movie was going to be loosely based on Elvis. Had I known originally, I would have declined the part.

  I went back to my motel room, which was part of the studio complex, and cried. I had signed a contract; I felt locked in and didn’t know what to do. I panicked, hoping that, at the very least, they wouldn’t have the main character pass away in the movie.

  When the script was completed, the main character would live, but oddly enough, Ed Parker wasn’t in the film, nor would my sisters be written in. I wondered if Ed had become aware of the changes in the story and bowed out gracefully. If so, he hadn’t thought to warn me. I met a great group of brothers, though, who were members of Roy Orbison’s band, and we became friends.

  In the end, the film certainly wasn’t Elvis’s life story, but there were too many similarities for me to ever feel comfortable with it. I never did ask Ed about it and eventually lost contact with him.

  Was I taken advantage of? Yes, but I did feel that the producer was a nice man. Now, reflecting back on things, I think he just got caught up in his admiration for Elvis and never realized that, by placing me in a film with a character even remotely like Elvis, it could hurt me. We remained friendly, and I would go on to honor the obligation in my contract to do another film with him.

  Unfortunately, not long after working on the film, a tabloid would come out saying that I was banned from Graceland with a negative interview from Elvis’s uncle Vester, a man I never got to know.

  I was completely stunned. I called Vernon Presley at home, telling him about the article. “Mr. Presley, am I banned from Graceland?” I asked. He instructed, “Ginger, don’t believe anything unless you hear it from me,” and then referring to his own brother’s comments, he said, “Vester, that redneck, I told him not to do that.” Once again, I found strength in Vernon’s words.

  Vernon Presley went into the hospital later in the year. I sent a card to wish him well and received a nice response from Sandy.

  In 1979, I worked for a couple of months on my next film, Lady Grey, which called for me to play the role of a young girl who becomes a country singer. I was getting to sing again and learning not to be as frightened about it. Country music entertainer David Allen Coe was also cast. We filmed some concert scenes for the movie, and my friends from Roy Orbison’s band played the roles of my backup band. An up-and-coming band named Alabama also performed in the movie.

  Alabama went on to become a huge success in the country music field. My singing wasn’t bad—one of my songs even became a Billboard pick of the week—but my acting clearly had a long way to go. I was learning the old-fashioned way, by simply jumping into the entertainment business with both feet and doing it.

  In the spring of 1979, Vernon was hospitalized again. This time I sent flowers and received another nice reply from Sandy.

  Then, on June 26, 1979, I was in the middle of driving to Florida with my friend Teri for a vacation, when we heard on the radio that Vernon Presley had passed away. I hadn’t spoken to Vernon in a while. He was only sixty-three years old, but his weak heart had finally failed him. As saddened as I was by this news, I took comfort in knowing that at least now Elvis, his mother, and father could be together again.

  The following year, I decided to go to New York to pursue a modeling career and make it on my own. I didn’t want to use Elvis’s name or contacts. New York was a vastly different world from Los Angeles, and from Memphis, too, and hardly anyone recognized my name. I was just one more young woman trying to make a start. No paparazzi followed me, and I was not in any of the papers.

  I signed with the Ford Modeling Agency and, when my agent asked why I was getting such a late start, I finally told her about Elvis. I was quite successful in commercials and also did print bookings daily. I began taking vocal lessons in New York and landed a Canada Dry ginger ale spot, in which I got the opportunity to sing again.

  In May of that same year, a grand jury indicted Dr. Nichopoulos for overprescribing drugs to many patients. That same year, the Tennessee Board of Medical Examiners found him guilty. Dr. Nichopoulos had his medical license suspended for three months and was on probation for three years.

  Fifteen years later, Dr. Nichopoulos’s license to practice medicine in the state of Tennessee would be permanently revoked by the state Board of Medical Examiners. I would always question whether he could have done more to help Elvis.

  My mother’s lawyer had taken her lawsuit to the court of appeals. The court decided she had foregone remedies available to her in her divorce, in reliance on a promise made by Elvis, and moved that the estate should be stopped from dishonoring Elvis’s promise. My mother won that battle.

  Ultimately, however, Elvis’s estate then took it to the supreme trial court. The judgment was reversed when the court ruled that Elvis had not made, in its eyes, a “legal gift” of the money (a signed agreement with the mortgage holder). A verbal promise was not enough.

  I was saddened that things hadn’t gone my mother’s way legally, but in my own life, I had come a long way physically, emotionally, and spiritually. I was strong and independent. I had begun a new career and was successful at it. I took acting classes at the Actor’s Studio in New York, studying with Lee Strasberg and then with his wife, Anna. My work in commercials led to agents who suggested that I also audition for jobs in Los Angeles, so from 1986 to 1991 I shuttled between New York and L.A., doing print campaigns, commercials, and guest spots on shows like Hollywood Beat and Life Goes On. I also spent six months on the soap opera Capitol.

  I met my husband in New York City. We married in 1991 and had our son three years later. I happily quit my career to devote myself to motherhood, and although it may be a cliché to say this, my son is one of my proudest achievements. He is a passionate athlete as well as a serious student, and biased as I might be, a wonderful young man. Throughout his childhood, I went to his soccer, baseball, and basketball games as an ardent supporter, fan, and proud mother. I didn’t want anything to diminish the attention I could give him or my experience of fully sharing in his childhood. I have no regrets about this choice, as it brought me immense joy.

  When my son went off to college, there was a huge space in my daily life, so I decided now was the time to embark on the journey of finally writing this memoir. I knew that it would take every ounce of my energy, focus, and ability.

  I am not a writer, but I wanted to do this myself, have it be in my voice and not that of a story told to a ghostwriter. I had written down so many of my experiences after Elvis died to preserve my memory of him for myself. I had to mine the deep recesses of my memory and bring myself back to those nine months, to relive the unique experiences and the powerful emotions of that time. It was not easy and the process was sometimes very painful. But I gave great thought and time to the effort of being as accurate as possible in sharing what I experienced.

  Writing this book was a long and arduous task. No one can explain love, but I had an amazing story to tell about one of history’s most influential performers and a complex and wonderful man. Just as you can’t capture lightning in a bottle and just as a photo is only a two-dimensional repr
esentation of a multidimensional moment, I knew it would be almost impossible to portray what it was like to be in love with, and loved by, Elvis Presley, for him and myself and for history. Whatever I wrote would surely fall short of the mark. Yet, I felt I owed it to him, to myself, and to his fans to try.

  In writing this book, I have given it my very best effort, and in life that is all one can do. In this book, I surely did that for me and, with all humility, for Elvis, too, as a way of honoring him and the love we shared.

  A picture taken of me around age two and a half. Who would’ve known Elvis Presley would one day enter my life and give me the nickname Little Two?

  Photo courtesy of Ginger Alden

  My first-grade picture that Elvis requested and kept in a frame on his bedside table at Graceland alongside another photo of me. My permed hairdo I could have lived without!

  Photo courtesy of Ginger Alden

  Elvis listening intently to my father speaking, shortly after they first met at Kennedy Veterans Hospital in Memphis, Tennessee, on March 24, 1958. Little did the two of them know that they would be in each other’s lives again eighteen years later.

  Photo courtesy of Ginger Alden