Elvis and Ginger: Elvis Presley's Fiancée and Last Love Finally Tells Her Story (16 page)

Elvis had two telephones on his bedside table. A gold one served as a private line, the one I called when I phoned Elvis and that I assumed he used when he called me. The other phone had buttons marked for various rooms in the house. By pressing a button marked “kitchen,” Elvis could relay to the maids what we wanted to eat. Sometimes he asked me to be the one to call downstairs. I wasn’t accustomed to giving people orders and knew it would take me a little while to get used to it. When I did relay what Elvis requested, I always made sure I said please and thank you.

Elvis had simple tastes in food and especially liked Lottie’s cooking. She prepared wonderful steaks with special seasoning and hamburgers with their buns steamed in butter, which Elvis called Lottieburgers. One night at dinner, I had my first taste of Canadian bacon with crowder peas, another of his favorite meals.

I got so used to our meals being brought to the bedroom that I found it difficult to imagine Elvis sitting at a table to eat. In fact, during the many months we spent together, that was something I would never witness.

•   •   •

One evening, well past midnight, I was home with my family and fast asleep when a rumble in the distance woke me. Our dogs began barking, and the rumbling sound slowly became more of a roar, growing louder and louder until it finally stopped nearby.

From my bedroom, I heard doors inside our home opening. Terry, who shared a room with me, sat up in bed. “What’s that?” she asked.

We both put on robes and went into the den. Shortly, our mom, Rosemary, and father appeared. My dad went to the front door and opened it. Meanwhile, I peeked out of our music room window to see what was going on. There were no streetlights in our neighborhood and it was pitch-black outside.

My father turned on our front porch light and stepped outside while we anxiously watched him from inside the doorway. The sound of rustling in the grass drew our attention.

A shadowy figure emerged out of the darkness and into the light. It was a motorcyclist clad in black leather. It wasn’t until he stepped onto the porch and removed his shiny black helmet that I saw it was Elvis!

Al Strada stood behind him. I had never seen Elvis travel anywhere without an entourage, so I figured there must be bodyguards waiting around the corner, unseen. But only Elvis and Al came inside, and Elvis took a seat on the sofa in our den. Just when I had been thinking this incredible man couldn’t surprise me more than he already had, he succeeded. Here was Elvis at my house! Not at Graceland, not in an arena, not in a hotel penthouse, but sitting in our den like he was a neighbor from down the street!

This was the first time Elvis had seen anyone in my family since Las Vegas. We were all so stunned to have him show up at our house like this, at such a late hour, that we didn’t even think about getting out of our pajamas. Elvis didn’t say a word about how late it was. Luckily, it was a weekend, and neither of my parents had to get up for work the next day, but I doubted Elvis had thought about that. This was my boyfriend and my parents couldn’t help that he kept odd hours. The fact this was Elvis, also gave him a little more latitude. After we’d chatted for a few minutes, Elvis eventually began talking with my mother about the Bible. She brought out the large, worn, family Bible she often used to read to us. Elvis went over a few passages, directing most of his comments to my mother, and asked if he could write inside the Bible.

“No, I don’t mind,” my mother said. I could tell he had piqued her interest.

Elvis wrote the word
ask
above the title “Genesis, The First Book of Moses,” and then began reading about God creating heaven and earth. He underlined certain lines and wrote down a few words, dissecting them as he had done once before with her on the phone, shortly after our return from Las Vegas. He then moved on and began underlining verses in the Book of Revelation.

The visit lasted quite a while, and I loved seeing Elvis enjoying himself with my family. It was a much more relaxed and intimate setting for us all to be together than it had been in Las Vegas. I was happy that my parents were finally getting the chance to witness a little of Elvis’s spiritual quest and to see him as I had over the past weeks, as a man who was bright, interesting, and charming.

Near dawn, Elvis decided it was time to go and went to use our restroom. Al had been sitting quietly in the room with us. Now my parents asked him a little about himself. Al said that he wasn’t that happy with his job, but said he was working to help support his mother in Los Angeles. I understood how Al’s job could sometimes be difficult. Elvis wanted others around him to pick up and go whenever and wherever. He wanted to have his employees at his beck and call. Hearing Al talk reminded me that, even now, Al was at work for Elvis. Being at my home was a paid job! I could see where nights like this wouldn’t necessarily be fun or exciting for an aide.

When Elvis returned, I followed him outside. “Thank you for coming over,” I said as we walked together toward his motorcycle. “Your bike is beautiful.”

“I’ll take you for a ride sometime,” he said.

Then, strapping his helmet back on, Elvis climbed onto his motorcycle. Al got into a waiting car. I stood on the lawn to watch them leave, smiling as I watched Elvis ride off into the night.

•   •   •

A few days before Christmas, Elvis asked if I would help him shop for his relatives. He had arranged for Goldsmith’s Department Store in Memphis to reopen after public hours. Goldsmith’s was located in the Southland Mall, not far down the street from Graceland. Elvis’s cousin Patsy Gambill and a bodyguard accompanied us.

As we turned into the mall’s parking lot, we were greeted by a police officer waiting in his car. One of the mall security guards opened the door to Goldsmith’s while the police officer waited outside.

It felt eerie to walk through the department store, empty now except for us and a few sales clerks patiently waiting for this one shopper. I had been in Goldsmith’s many times, but this was shopping Elvis-style and completely different.

We had been in the store for only a few moments when Elvis said he’d like to buy me some nightgowns and robes. I was surprised that he wanted to buy something for me and by the intimate nature of the gifts. I followed Elvis and the guard to the lingerie department, where I browsed through the sleepwear while the men made small talk close by.

During their chat, Elvis accidentally referred to me once as “Sheila.” He quickly caught himself and said, “Ginger.”

When I hastily turned around, wondering who Sheila was, Elvis glanced at me with a “sorry about that” look.

This threw me for a moment, but I went back to shopping. It was only much later that I learned Elvis had dated a woman named Sheila Ryan for a few years, not long before meeting me.

I selected some nightgowns and robes, then followed Elvis over to the fur coat section, where he began looking through the coats. He seemed to know what he liked and I started to feel like he didn’t really need me along as he picked out a coat and had Patsy try it on.

Looking through a few more, Elvis singled out a black-and-white mink and one more made of white rabbit fur. He asked me to try them on so he could see if they would fit some of his relatives. I slipped into each coat and turned around, briefly modeling them while Elvis watched and mulled them over. He then purchased all of the coats while I browsed close by.

Back at Graceland, Elvis gave Patsy the coat she had tried on and I knew Elvis’s other relatives would be pleasantly surprised by the gifts he had waiting for them. I wondered if he was this generous with his family every Christmas, and decided he probably was. Elvis was his family’s real Santa Claus. In fact, I’d begun to see that every day with Elvis could feel like Christmas.

I left Graceland shortly after sunrise. On the way home, I wondered what I could give Elvis for the holidays that he didn’t already have. I couldn’t possibly repay him in kind for the generous gifts he’d given my family and me.

At first, because of everything we’d been reading, I considered having a special turban made with a large stone in its center, but I didn’t think I’d have enough time. I went to sleep for a while, still pondering ideas, and later went shopping with Rosemary.

In a nearby mall, I finally purchased a gold chain necklace with a large cross made out of a gemstone called tiger’s eye. It was a simple gift compared to most of Elvis’s jewelry, but I liked it and hoped he would, too.

That night, Elvis called to once again invite me to help him choose coats for some relatives. I went to Graceland, and from there, for the first time, I got to ride in his Ferrari. The bodyguard, Sam, squeezed into the backseat with Elvis’s cousin Billy and Billy’s wife, Jo. I sat in the passenger seat with Elvis at the wheel.

Soon we were zooming along on the expressway toward downtown Memphis. Elvis drove at a speed I had never dared to drive. It was scary, yet exhilarating. I never doubted his ability to handle the car.

We flew past a parked police car. Luckily, for some reason the officer didn’t pursue us. I wondered if he recognized Elvis’s Ferrari. As fast as we were going, I doubt the police could have caught us anyway.

Arriving downtown, Elvis wheeled into the parking lot of a store called King Furs and came to a quick stop. Relieved, I opened the door and got out, releasing the others from their confinement in the backseat. As Sam started to get out, he made a comical suction noise, pretending to remove his fingers from the tight grip he’d had on the back of my seat. I laughed, but I was sure he’d experienced that kind of ride with Elvis before.

Inside the store, Elvis’s attention went straight to a full-length white mink coat hanging on a rack in the back. He asked the salesperson to pull it out and wanted me to try it on.

While his cousins and bodyguard stood around, I stepped in front of a three-way mirror and slipped into this incredible coat. In the reflection I could see Elvis, now seated in a chair behind me, watching and looking quite pleased, with a great big smile. The salesperson handed me a white mink hat, and when I lifted my hair to tuck up under it, Elvis jumped up and walked toward me. Putting his hand on the back of my neck, in a childlike voice he said, “Now let me see that neck . . . now that’s a chicken neck!”

He was clearly getting a kick out of teasing me and I had to laugh. Later he would tell me, “I’m self-conscious about my own neck. It’s too thin. That’s why my jumpsuits and shirts are designed with high collars.”

Elvis purchased the white mink coat and hat without bothering to look at anything else. On the way out the door, he told me they were mine. Astonished, I thanked him. It was clear he hadn’t gone out tonight to shop for anyone else but me.

He waved a hand. “I wish they’d had a full-length black one for me,” he said. Had the salesperson heard him, I’m sure the clerk would have bent over backward to find one.

The five of us returned to the car, where Elvis peeled out of the parking lot with me holding on for dear life, smiling at my new nickname, Chicken Neck. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was mine.

Back at Graceland, Elvis went into the dressing area of his bathroom and returned with the two coats he had purchased the previous night. He asked me to take off the coat I was wearing and, when I did, he put one of the coats around my shoulders, giving me a soft kiss on my neck.

“These are yours, too,” he said.

I was dazed by the extravagance. What about his relatives? Was this his plan all along? I had never given any thought to owning a fur coat, and now I had several. No question about it: Elvis liked to do things big. He couldn’t just give me one coat; he had to give me three!

“Thank you, Elvis, they’re really beautiful,” I said, simply, for what more could I say? This had been another one of his plans and he was beaming.

Caught up in the moment and obviously proud of what he had done, Elvis suddenly wanted me to call my family and invite them over to see what he’d given me.

It was after midnight when I called home but I knew that my family would be okay with late-night calls coming from Graceland. It was all part of this new adventure we were having with Elvis as our guide. I spoke with my mother and told her that Elvis had something he’d like to show the family. I knew they’d be curious but only my mother and Rosemary were able to come over. Elvis asked me to lay all three coats out on his bed and so I carefully arranged them on his bedspread. When Rosemary and my mom arrived, he invited them upstairs. Of course they exclaimed over how beautiful the furs were. My mother was wowed because this was her very first look inside Graceland. Elvis graciously took her on a brief tour while Rosemary and I waited in his bedroom.

When they returned, we followed Elvis into his office, where he sang and played the organ for all of us. Not long afterward, a man walked into the room. I’d never seen him before. Elvis said hello and the two of them disappeared into the dressing area of his bathroom. I wondered if he was talking business. For Elvis, the world was awake when everyone else was asleep, so I knew that was possible.

Given the late hour, my mother and Rosemary told me they didn’t want to overstay their welcome. They prepared to leave. Elvis reappeared before long, however, and my mother thanked him for inviting them over and said they should be going.

We had all started walking downstairs when Elvis stopped midway on the staircase and said, “Oh, I almost forgot something.” He opened his hand.

In his palm glittered two diamond rings. “You won’t find these in a Cracker Jack box,” he teased, handing my mother and Rosemary each a ring.

They stared at Elvis, speechless for a moment. Then my mother shook her head. “Elvis, I’m sorry, but we can’t—” she began, but Elvis cut her off.

“Mrs. Alden, I really want you and Rosemary to have these,” he insisted.

I had already learned that there was no force that could match Elvis when he was intent on being generous. My mother and sister finally realized that and graciously thanked him.

I was touched by his gesture and wondered if the stranger who had arrived had brought the rings. I saw my mother and sister to the front door, then took Elvis’s hand as we headed upstairs, thinking I’d never met another man so joyful and enthusiastic about sharing the bounty of his life with everyone around him.