Elvis and Ginger: Elvis Presley's Fiancée and Last Love Finally Tells Her Story (2 page)

Graceland, August 16, 1977

We all refused to give up hope.

It was after 3
P.M.
on Tuesday, August 16, 1977. I was sitting inside Dodger Presley’s bedroom at Graceland with members of Elvis’s family, including Vernon, his father; Dodger, Vernon’s mother; Elvis’s daughter, Lisa; and my niece Amber, who had become friendly with Lisa. As the minutes ticked away, I felt my anxiety mounting and was finding it difficult to breathe.

We had been sitting vigil for what seemed like an eternity, silently praying for good news. The tension was unbearable. I suddenly felt like I had to leave the room, as if by doing so, my mind could escape to that precious time a short while ago before I’d made the shocking discovery in the upstairs bathroom.

Of course, I knew that was impossible. The imprint of what I had seen would be forever burned into my memory.

I slowly walked out of Dodger’s bedroom door, wishing more than anything that I’d be greeted by Elvis walking downstairs toward me right then, laughing and telling everyone it was all a joke, even as I knew in my heart that this moment, as bad as it was, was very real. Pausing in the foyer, I noticed a few other people praying in the dining room and living room. I said my prayers again as well, feverishly in denial, still wanting to believe that the doctors at the hospital could save Elvis by some miracle, and that he would always be here by my side.

Elvis’s aunt Nash saw me standing there. She approached me and gave me a hug. “Everything is going to be all right, Ginger,” she said. “He has so much left to do.”

I don’t know whether it was the fact that she was a relative or an older woman who seemed wise, but I felt a comforting feeling wash over me. I wanted so badly to believe her.

Some of the dark fears haunting me slowly began to ease as I convinced myself that surely Aunt Nash had to be right. It was true! Elvis did have a lot left to do, and so many of his dreams would remain unfulfilled if he left us now!

I returned to Dodger’s bedroom after a few minutes, feeling a little more hopeful than when I had left and continued to keep vigil with the others. Lisa was playing by the bed with Amber; as the two of them whispered together, everything seemed almost normal.

The phones throughout the house buzzed intermittently. Somewhere, someone answered them. Each time, with still no word from the hospital, I grew increasingly frightened.

Suddenly a movement in the doorway caught my attention. My breath caught in my throat as I saw Elvis’s personal physician, Dr. George Nichopoulos, standing there.

My last flicker of hope faded as I watched Dr. Nichopoulos slowly enter the room, holding a large yellow envelope. Shaking his head at us, he walked over to Vernon and handed him the envelope. “I’m sorry,” he said.

I felt like I’d stopped breathing altogether and felt light-headed, my pulse suddenly pounding in my ears. I stared at the envelope. I was unable to look at the doctor’s face, much less Vernon’s, as I realized that the envelope must contain the jewelry Elvis had been wearing when he was rushed away from Graceland by ambulance. One of those pieces would be a necklace Elvis had purchased while we were together, a gold chain with the Hebrew letter
chai
meaning
life
or
to live
.

I went completely numb, feeling as if not just Elvis but everything around Graceland and within me had died. I felt empty, hollowed out.

Everyone around me was devastated. We cried and hugged one another, searching for comfort in embraces and tears. It was impossible for any of us to grasp that Elvis, a man who seemed larger than life, could be gone from this world.

My head was pounding. I needed to walk a bit. I decided to leave the room, as I experienced an overwhelming need to know if the outside world was aware of what had happened, of what we were suffering.

I left Dodger’s room and went to one of the windows in the front living room, where I peeked out through the side of a closed curtain. It immediately became clear that the news of Elvis’s passing was spreading fast. Cars were slowing down as they drove past Graceland. Some vehicles had stopped completely, their passengers getting out and standing in the middle of Elvis Presley Boulevard. People had begun gathering by the front gates, too, and along Graceland’s stone fence—a fence that had never really been able to separate Elvis from his loyal fans.

This day had begun with excitement and hope for Elvis and me, but ended in heartache and disbelief. At the age of forty-two, my fiancé, Elvis Aaron Presley, was dead. The world around me had crumbled and my heart was broken.

Certain things in life are bound to make you wonder how much of your destiny is due to fate and how much is the product of chance. For my family, the U.S. Army was a catalyst.

In 1943, the world was at war and my father, Walter Alden, was drafted into the army. My mother, Jo Spencer, enlisted in the Women’s Army Corps and they were both posted at Fort Stewart, Georgia. Two years after meeting at the base service station one fateful day, they married. Eleven months later, they had my brother, Mike, and five years later my sister Rosemary was born.

My dad decided on a career in the military, and in 1951 they settled in Memphis, Tennessee. Memphis was home to many great musical talents, but in the mid-1950s, Elvis Presley had begun to put our city on the map for millions around the world.

In 1955, the year my sister Terry was born, my family was living in an apartment building on Getwell Road. Unaware that Elvis lived about five blocks away, my brother was riding his bike on Stribling Street one day and recognized Elvis in a flatbed truck as he drove up beside him. Elvis smiled at Mike and slowly passed him. Mike followed him to Dunn Avenue until Elvis made a turn and he lost sight of him. My brother later told my parents, “He probably smiled at me because I was staring at him.”

Like my brother, most Memphians felt a sense of pride that Elvis shared their home. I was born on November 13, 1956, at the naval hospital in Millington, Tennessee, and I would grow up feeling that pride even as a small child.

In 1957, my father, now ranked sergeant first class, was in public relations and recruiting for the army. He worked closely with the Memphis draft board, notifying and advising individuals that if they enlisted, they would be able to receive special opportunities. Earlier that year, the board had announced that Elvis would probably be drafted. Every branch of the military began making offers, trying to get him to enlist.

Hoping to speak with Elvis on the army’s behalf, my dad made a trip to Graceland, Elvis’s recently purchased home, only to be told that Elvis was away. Before my father could return to Graceland, he was informed that Elvis had decided not to enlist and would take his chances with the draft. At the end of the year, Elvis received his notice for induction into the U.S. Army.

On the morning of March 24, 1958, Elvis arrived with his parents, Gladys and Vernon, at the draft board office located inside the M&M Building in downtown Memphis. Elvis and the other recruits being drafted then boarded a bus for physicals at the U.S. Army and Air Force recruiting main station at Kennedy Veterans Hospital. Shortly after arriving, they entered a reception room and sat on chairs lined up in rows behind long tables.

In that room, soon-to-be Private Elvis Presley laid eyes on my father for the first time as my dad walked in and said a few words, giving the new recruits some insight as to what lay ahead. My father had finished speaking and was gathering his things to leave when Elvis approached him.

“Is there someplace inside this building where I could get change?” Elvis asked, explaining that he wanted to use one of the pay phones.

My father reached into his pocket and offered Elvis a dime. Elvis took it and thanked him. Elvis had his physical, and by that afternoon, he was sworn into the U.S. Army.

Due to Elvis’s fame, the press covered the event. Photographers took pictures of him with my dad for the newspapers, and whenever I look at those clippings, it still hits me: Here is a young Elvis, and here is my dad. They were worlds apart, yet at that moment they were connected for the first time.

My father came home that evening with two publicity photos of Elvis, one signed, “To Mike,” and the other, “To Rosemary.” Before going to bed, he wrote inside my sister’s small autograph book, “Today I shook the hand of Elvis Presley, March 24, 1958.”

Elvis’s mother had become ill, and that August, the army granted Elvis an emergency leave so he could return to Memphis to see her. His mother passed away on August 14, 1958, and he was granted an extended stay for her funeral. On March 7, 1960, after twenty-four months of active duty, Elvis returned to Memphis again, this time as a civilian, with four years left in the reserves.

A few nights later, my father decided to stop by Graceland after work, hoping for some follow-up public relations tidbits for an army newsletter. He parked his army sedan near Graceland’s driveway and walked toward its closed gates, where some others were milling about. The gates had become a popular place for fans to hang out, chat, and catch a glimpse of Elvis.

My dad saw Elvis and a few others standing in the driveway, talking to a teenager with a bandaged hand. When Elvis noticed my father, still dressed in his army uniform, he yelled, “Let him in,” to a guard near the gates.

My father learned that Elvis had assisted the teenager two nights earlier, when he’d been in a motorcycle accident near Graceland, and the teen had returned to thank him. My dad lucked out; he got to see Elvis and now had a story.

My father stopped by Graceland a few more times the following year along with a friend, a reporter for the
Memphis Press-Scimitar
, who was also looking for Elvis-related pieces. They became friendly with a guard at the gates named Travis Smith, who happened to be Elvis’s uncle. One evening, Travis invited my dad to bring my mom and join Elvis at a local movie theater called the Memphian, where Elvis often treated others to movie showings—it was the only way he could watch a movie out of the public eye.

As Travis had requested, my parents drove to Graceland and waited in their car by the front gates. Before long, a few other cars emerged from around back of the mansion and, as they exited the driveway, my father eased in behind them and followed.

It was well after midnight when my parents arrived at the theater, its marquee dark, showing it was closed to the public. They saw Elvis and a few others already out of their cars and talking, so they approached them. Recognizing my dad, Elvis shook his hand and my father introduced my mother.

The group soon entered the lobby and Elvis walked over to the food counter while my parents and some other guests made their way inside to get seats. Before long, Elvis came walking down the aisle with popcorn in hand. Upon noticing my father again, he tossed out jokingly, “Hey, Sarge, I’m ready to go back into the army.”

My dad replied, “We’ll be glad to have you back.”

Elvis screened two movies that night, and it wouldn’t be until the wee hours of the morning when everyone left the theater.

Not long afterward, Travis invited my parents for a second outing, telling them Elvis was renting the Memphis Fairgrounds Amusement Park, and friends and guests were welcome to bring their children. Travis and his wife were going along this time, and he told my dad when and where to meet them after the park closed to the public.

I was five years old when I rode with my family to the fairgrounds that night. Although I was too young to remember much, that evening became a memorable experience for my entire family. My brother and one of his friends drove separately. A security guard let us into the entrance of the amusement park, where we waited alongside other invited guests.

Travis arrived and introduced his wife, Lorraine, to my parents. Before long, a black car slowly pulled up to the entrance and the security guard waved it inside. The car came to a stop and Elvis stepped out, dressed in a dark shirt with dark pants and wearing a white captain’s hat. My most vivid memory is one of seeing Elvis shake hands with people and thinking he must be important, for his face looked just like the ones I’d seen on some record sleeves at home.

My parents greeted Elvis, and as my father introduced each one of us, Elvis shook hands with Mike and Rosemary, then patted Terry and me on our heads. When my mom mentioned that my brother was taking guitar lessons, Elvis joked, “I’ve got one at home he can have, because I can’t play the thing.”

Everyone laughed, and then the group continued inside, following Elvis to the park’s large wooden roller coaster (a ride that would remain one of his favorites). Elvis climbed into the front car with his date, Bonnie Bunkley, and as the seats began to fill, Travis approached my mom. “Want to ride with me?” he asked.

Never having been on a roller coaster before, she told him yes, as long as he picked a safe and not-too-scary seat. They ended up sitting in the very last car, which unbeknownst to my mom was notorious for being rough.

My father and Lorraine Smith sat in the car in front of them, while my siblings and I stood by to watch. Screams of fright and laughter echoed from the ride as it raced by us multiple times before finally coming to a halt. When everyone got out, my mother, a little rattled but smiling, told Travis, “I think I might just have a heart attack right here.”

Elvis continued through the park with his date and some friends while my parents took my sisters and me to the kiddie section. My brother and his friend decided to wander the park alone. A concession stand was open to all of us, and we got to enjoy the rides as many times as we wanted.

Our special night was over too soon. Catching up with Travis and Elvis, my parents thanked them for our amazing evening. Mike and his friend begged my parents to let them stay longer; they didn’t return home until nearly sunrise. Later, still excited, Mike told my parents that Elvis and his friends had divided into groups and he got to drive the dodgem cars with them. Then Elvis sent someone across the street to get milkshakes at a place with two large polar bears out front called the Polar Bear Frozen Custard shop.

I didn’t know it then, but that night was just a preview of Elvis’s giving nature.