Jerry was trying hard to build a career for himself working as a Hollywood film editor, but he agreed to escort Elvis back to Washington to help find Joyce Bova. Elvis had Jerry call Sonny West in Memphis, instructing him to meet them at the hotel in Washington, and allowed him to tell Vernon and Priscilla not to worry, but not where he was or where he was going.
On the plane to Washington, Elvis learned that California senator George Murphy was also aboard. He walked back to the main cabin from the first class cabin to talk to the senator. He expressed his admiration for the senator’s patriotism and said that he too wanted to serve his country. In particular, he thought he could help the nation with its drug problem, since he had some influence with young people. He persuaded Murphy to contact the Bureau of Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs and the FBI to arrange for Elvis to talk to officials in each agency.
Elvis wanted more badges. He wanted to be appointed an undercover officer for the two agencies. Murphy suggested that Elvis also contact the White House.
Returning to his seat, Elvis penciled a letter to President Nixon on American Airlines stationery expressing his desire to talk to him about helping out the country. Jerry was aghast, but he helped Elvis find the language for his message to the president.
“Dear Mr. President,” Elvis wrote.
He was concerned about the country, he said. He could help because he could reach people in subtle ways. “The Drug Culture, the Hippie elements, the SDS, Black Panthers, etc. do not consider me as their enemy or as they call it The Establishment. I call it America and I love it. Sir I can and will be of any service that I can to help the country out,” he said. Elvis was thinking that he would work covertly. “I wish not to be given a title or an appointed position. I can and will do more good if I were made a Federal agent at Large, and I will help but by doing it my way through my communications with people of all ages. First and foremost I am an entertainer but all I need is the Federal credentials.”
Elvis explained to President Nixon that he had prepared himself carefully for this labor. He had done “an in depth study of Drug Abuse and Communist Brainwashing techniques.” He shared with the president the news that he was about to be named one of the year’s “ten most outstanding young men” in America, an honor he thought the president himself had once received. “I would love to meet you just to say hello if you’re not too busy,” he said. In a “p.s.” Elvis told President Nixon that he had a gift for him. On Monday morning about 6:00 a.m., Elvis and Jerry took a limousine to the White House, where Elvis gave his letter to a startled guard. After recognizing the man in bizarre garb as Elvis Presley, the young man promised that it would be delivered to a member of the president’s staff. Elvis and Jerry went on to the Washington Hotel and up to the suite of rooms Elvis had rented on the fifth floor. Elvis’s face was swollen, and the rash had broken out again. A doctor was summoned, and Elvis told the chocolate story again. The doctor prescribed some medication, told him not to eat chocolate, and charged $100 for his visit.
Elvis proceeded to the Bureau of Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs, where, as arranged by Senator Murphy, he was greeted by Deputy Director John Finlator. Elvis pushed every possible button to get the Bureau to give him a badge, including his strong desire to make a cash donation to the Bureau. All to no avail. They did not take donations or give out badges. Just as failure seemed imminent, Jerry called from the hotel. They were expected at the White House in forty-five minutes to meet Egil “Bud” Krogh, a member of the president’s staff.
Sonny West arrived at the hotel just as Elvis came by to pick up Jerry. All three went to the White House and to Krogh’s office. Krogh had passed Elvis’s note, along with his recommendation that the president receive Elvis, to his boss, H. R. Haldeman, Nixon’s chief of staff. Haldeman had written on the margin of the memo: “You must be kidding?” Nevertheless, he approved, and at 12:30 p.m. Krogh, having convinced himself that Elvis was not dangerous, and having relieved him of the pistol that he intended to give the president, ushered him into the Oval Office.
Richard Nixon needed all the help he could get in coping with young Americans in 1970 with the Vietnam War still ongoing. He quickly understood that Elvis might help him deal with a very specific problem—the young people of America who were burning Old Glory and protesting against this bloody and futile war against Communism in Vietnam, even around the sacred buildings of the nation’s capital. In April 1970, he had ordered the invasion of Cambodia from Vietnam. He was in the War Room of the White House as the invasion was launched and took the occasion to praise the brave young men engaged in that action and to condemn the treasonous protests of the young people at home—predominantly students—who demonstrated so vigorously against the war. When he revealed plans to draft another 150,000 young men into the service, student protests broke out all over America; some five hundred colleges and universities were either shut down or severely impacted. At Kent State University in Ohio, twenty-eight National Guardsmen opened fire on student demonstrators, killing four and wounding nine. There was no higher authorization for such, but many drew a direct line from Nixon’s virulent condemnation of the students to this massacre. The whole student movement was a tribulation to Nixon, but he struggled to understand it.
Richard Nixon had an image problem with young people, and Elvis Presley could help him. The president knew what he wanted from Elvis, but communication with the entertainer proved exceedingly difficult. To begin with, it was a shock to see a man who looked like this outside of a Halloween party or off a movie set, much less in the Oval Office. He looked like an actor in a horror story. He somehow seemed larger than life, tall, heavy-set, with long, jet black hair and low-reaching sideburns. He was still wearing his heavily ornamented large-lensed sunglasses as he approached the president. His lengthy Edwardian jacket was draped casually, European-style, around his shoulders, sleeves dangling. Beneath the coat one could see a purple tunic partially covering a shirt that was widely V-necked and parted down toward his navel, exposing an expanse of his hairy chest. Around his neck, he wore his “Tree of Life” necklace bearing the names of all the guys on its roots and branches, and a huge gold pendant in the shape of a lion’s head rested against his chest. Around his waist, Elvis wore the wide, thick, gold, and sparkly belt given him by the International Hotel for breaking attendance records. As he strode forward to shake the hand of the president, Krogh noticed that in his left hand he was carrying a cluster of badges—his treasure trove of police badges.
As the two men groped toward a conversation, Elvis spread his badges out on the presidential desk, removed his sunglasses, and laid them down beside the badges. He had also brought photographs of himself that he showed to the president. He explained that he got the belt he was wearing for performing in Las Vegas. The president quipped that he himself knew how hard it was to play Vegas. Indeed, he had once charmingly and with a comfortable sense of humor played the piano there onstage with Liberace. Elvis, apparently, did not catch the president’s humor. But while he had the floor for a moment, Nixon quickly offered the idea that he thought Elvis could reach young people. Elvis quickly agreed, but added that he must work only in his own way.
Elvis overwhelmed Nixon with his intensity. The president struggled to keep up but lost Elvis’s train of thought when he launched into an attack on the Beatles. They were a center of anti-Americanism, Elvis charged vehemently, having come to America to make a lot of money, then going back to England and slandering America. How in the world could the president of the United States respond to that? Finally, the president relented and gave the man what he wanted. He told Krogh to order the Bureau of Narcotics to give Elvis a badge.
Elvis was elated. He threw his arm around the presidential shoulder and boldly asked Nixon to invite his friends Sonny and Jerry into the Oval Office, which the president did. Elvis was exercising control again—this time over the White House. After some chitchat and photos by the presidential photographer, Nixon decided to give these people some
mementos of their visit to the White House and let them go. The president fumbled in his desk drawer for presidential cufflinks for his guests. As he approached the end of his supply, Elvis informed Nixon that these guys had wives too. The president again dived into his drawer to pull out presidential pins appropriate for women. Finally, the visitors, having pocketed their loot, left the office for a White House tour and a White House lunch.
Later, Elvis flatly refused to believe that President Nixon had been involved in the Watergate scandal in any way. However, when Vice President Spiro Agnew was forced to resign for having evaded his income taxes, Elvis blew up. “I want my goddamn guns back,” he fumed.
Elvis dropped Jerry off at the airport. He and Sonny returned to the hotel, where Sonny had managed to contact Joyce. Both Joyce and her identical twin sister appeared at the hotel that evening. Elvis amazed everyone by immediately identifying which twin was Joyce. He and Sonny double-dated the Bova twins for the night.
That night, at last, Joyce went to bed with Elvis. Before they lay down, he told her that she was beautiful. “You’re a pure little girl too, aren’t you?” he said. “Even though it had not happened for me,” Joyce said later, “I knew he could make it happen.” She was surprised by his mode of proceeding. “The fervid sex that had made him famous had, in reality, been gentler, a sweet and tender passion.” Joyce was surprised to discover what virtually all of Elvis’s sex-mates were surprised to discover; he was not a tiger in bed after all.
The next morning they had breakfast together, probably the $18 restaurant charge that showed up on Elvis’s hotel bill. Elvis and his party had occupied rooms 505, 506, 507, and 508. The whole bill amounted to $1,424.76. Elvis signed the statement in the hotel that morning, not as Jon Burrows, the name typed in at the head of the document, but as Elvis Presley and with a flourish. He was on a roll, and he was no longer working under cover. Further, his value to the nation had just been recognized by the president, and he’d had sex with yet another beautiful young virgin.
Elvis had the hotel send the bill to Vernon Presley at 3764 Highway 51 South in Memphis, Tennessee. For once, perhaps, Vernon thought that an expense was justified. His son had visited the president of the United States at the White House. There had to be some sort of reflected glory for him in that.
Homecoming
Elvis returned home with presents for everyone and boastful tales about his exploits. The contretemps in the dining room that had caused his angry departure only three days before was totally erased. On the day before Christmas, he gave a Mercedes each to Dr. Nick, his physician, and to Sonny West, who had helped him out in Washington and was about to be married in a wedding that Elvis had arranged and was paying for. Another was given to Bill Morris, recently the county sheriff, who had managed to give Elvis and virtually all of his guys in Memphis real deputy sheriff badges that, coincidentally, allowed them to carry guns legally. Elvis’s male entourage became a walking arsenal. Anyone who attempted to assassinate Elvis Presley would be riddled with bullets. In the wee hours of Christmas morning, Elvis went down to the Memphis city police station “to say Hello” to the men in blue.
On the day after Christmas 1970, he drove downtown to buy some more guns, and on Monday, December 28, he attended Sonny’s wedding wearing an extra belt bearing his new Shelby County deputy’s badge (number 6), two guns in shoulder holsters, two pearl-handled pistols stuck in the waistband of his pants, a derringer in his boot, and a fifteen-inch police flashlight. Elvis was the best man, but the dignity of the ceremony was threatened by his reluctance to give up even the flashlight before going to the altar alongside the groom. “It won’t look good,” urged Marty Lacker, who had carefully organized the event.
After the minister had married the couple, Marty was unable to dissuade Elvis from moving the reception from the church to Graceland. This was the night when Elvis, all of the guys, Dr. Nick, and the present and past sheriffs of Shelby County, all dressed up for the wedding, posed for their semifamous group photograph proudly presenting their badges. Elvis was in the front row center, of course, and seated like a king in his court. His men either stood behind or kneeled beside him. Later that night, he insisted that everyone, including the bride and groom, go with him to the Memphian to see a movie.
On Wednesday, Elvis and eight friends traveled to Washington with Memphis ex-sheriff Bill Morris to tour the headquarters of the National Sheriffs’ Association. Elvis also arranged a visit to the FBI headquarters in Washington for himself and his coterie on New Year’s Eve day. As he leaned over to drink from a water fountain, a derringer fell out of his clothing. While he was in a stall in the men’s restroom, a .25 automatic fell noisily to the floor. The FBI agents giving them the tour hardly knew what to do after the pistol went clattering across the tiles.
While he was there, Elvis offered to go undercover for the FBI as well as the Bureau of Narcotics. Director J. Edgar Hoover was not available at the time of the visit, but Elvis told the agents who met him that he considered Mr. Hoover to be “the greatest living American.” He also shared with them his opinion that “the Beatles laid the groundwork for many of the problems we are having with young people by their filthy unkempt appearances and suggestive music.” He also opined that the Smothers Brothers, Jane Fonda, and other antiwar entertainers “have a lot to answer for in the hereafter for the way they have poisoned young minds by disparaging the United States in their public statements and unsavory activities.” On January 4, Hoover wrote Elvis a letter thanking him for his “generous comments” and assuring him that “we will keep in mind your offer to be of assistance,” but offering no badge.
The Best Men
Saturday, January 16, 1971, was one of the proudest days in Elvis’s life. He was given an award by the nation’s Junior Chamber of Commerce as one of America’s Ten Outstanding Young Men of the Year. That morning, he attended the Jaycee prayer breakfast at the Riverview Holiday Inn in Memphis on a cliff high above the Mississippi River. At lunch, he heard the US ambassador to the United Nations, George H. W. Bush, urge cooperation between business and government.
That evening in Ellis Auditorium, along with the other winners, he gave his acceptance speech. He had been a dreamer since childhood, he said, and each dream had “come true a hundred times.” This hardly seemed the case with his movie career, but he went on. He suggested that “these gentlemen over here” might well “be building the kingdom.” That statement did not square well with reality either. The Memphis Commercial Appeal found that six or seven of the ten outstanding young men did not even belong to a church and indeed “felt a certain hypocrisy about organized religion.” Elvis closed by quoting the words of a song, as he often did in seeking to convey his perception of some essence. “Without a song,” he said, “the day would never end, a man ain’t got a friend, and the road would never bend. So I keep singing a song,” he concluded. “Good night. Thank you.”
Elvis and Priscilla had flown to Memphis the night before, and Elvis had sat in his office on the second floor of Graceland composing his speech. He called Priscilla in to critique his work. She was amazed. “He shocked me with the eloquence of his speech,” she said. She suspected him of lifting it from somewhere, “clever as he was.”
Then Elvis was off to Las Vegas for another four-week run in the Showroom of the Hilton. With everyone gathered in his suite, he began showing off his guns and badges. At one point when he wanted everyone’s attention, he pointed a pistol at the chandelier, aimed, and pulled the trigger. The gun snapped. Everyone watched in stunned silence. But the gun was not loaded, and Elvis doubled over with laughter. A moment later all the guys doubled over with laughter too. On another occasion, he blasted an image of Robert Goulet on his television screen with his turquoise-handled Colt .45. This time he did not laugh. They didn’t laugh either. The pistol was loaded.
By early March, Elvis was writing an anxious and insistent letter to John Finlator to make sure that the Narco deputy chief got his commission papers i
n proper order. “Would you please make the credentials to read ‘Agent at Large,’ as I may be going overseas at any time on a concert tour,” he wrote. “The credentials are of the utmost secrecy and importance,” he declared. Again, he asserted that he had studied on his own and in depth “drug abuse, communist psychological brainwashing techniques, etc.” He blamed motion pictures and rock music “for much of the confusion in this country.” Because he was directly in the middle of both, his “status as a government agent would have to be kept secret as I would lose them to say the least.” Elvis closed by saying he would contact the deputy director “from time to time to say hello” and inviting him to his home “in Memphis or Los Angeles to spend an evening with myself and my family.”
Tales of Boccaccio
Throughout 1971, it was guns, badges, policemen, and a rising messianic complex, all mixed in with road shows and hotel performances, recording sessions, and shuffling Joyce and Barbara, and presumably Priscilla, in and out of Elvis’s bed. Kathy Westmoreland, having surrendered her virginity to no avail, retired from the rotation. The moving of girls and young women in and out of Elvis’s arms was, like Boccaccio’s tales, both sad and hilarious. It was a sickness that led to bizarre situations.
In March, while recording in Nashville, Elvis developed a severe eye infection, probably from hair dye and eye makeup mixed with sweat getting into his eye. Priscilla was in California putting the finishing touches on their new house, so he brought in Barbara Leigh. He persuaded her not only to stay in the hospital with him but also to share his hospital bed. There is no record of what attending physicians, nurses, and aides thought when they came into the room of the ailing Elvis and saw this rising television and Hollywood movie star propped up in the high white bed with him.
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