Elvis and Ginger: Elvis Presley's Fiancée and Last Love Finally Tells Her Story (23 page)

“That’ll be fun,” I agreed, excited about the prospect of redecorating Graceland. Although the idea of this undertaking was a little intimidating, I felt sure Elvis would guide me through it successfully. This was something we could do together that would make me feel more a part of his home. Interior design also appealed to my artistic side.

“What colors for downstairs?” he asked.

I thought about this for a minute, then replied, “Green would be pretty, with some plants and maybe a large aquarium.”

Elvis nodded. “Okay.” He said another one of the things he’d like to do was redecorate the ladies’ bathroom in his office. He asked me to choose colors for that also.

“Turquoise and white would be nice,” I said at once. I’d always loved that combination for a bathroom.

He then brought up redecorating his Palm Springs home and putting in a screening room, making it like a small movie theater with king and queen chairs for the two of us.

Talking about how he wanted to change some things caused me to truly begin visualizing the details of what our life together could be like for the first time. I was thrilled and swept up in his vision, adding my own ideas here and there.

One afternoon, I woke at Graceland before Elvis did and decided to go downstairs to look around a bit. If we were going to redecorate the house, I wanted to be able to consider our choices, and I didn’t feel like I knew the downstairs rooms that well because most of my time had been spent upstairs.

I walked into the dining room and began looking at some objects arranged on a shelf in a built-in corner cabinet. At one point, I turned around and was startled to see the maid, Lottie, seated at the dining room table, watching me. I hadn’t heard her come in.

“Hi,” I said.

Lottie smiled and greeted me in return, but I felt some trepidation, as if I’d sneaked into a room I wasn’t supposed to be in at all. For me, trying to feel at home at Graceland was like trying to feel at home in the White House. I turned back and continued to examine the objects on the shelves, a little self-conscious now.

“You can change anything you want,” Lottie said, surprising me.

Elvis must have said something to her about me being the lady of the house, I thought happily as I turned around to smile at Lottie again.

“It’s all fine,” I replied. I hadn’t come downstairs to start changing things. I just wanted to look around a bit. I also wanted Lottie to feel comfortable with me. Although I appreciated how deferential she was acting, I knew myself too well. I would never feel comfortable ordering her or any of the other staff around, lady of the house or not.

Toward the end of February, Elvis asked, “Have you ever been to Hawaii?”

I was aware that Elvis had made a few movies in Hawaii and had performed a concert there years ago, but I didn’t know if he’d been back recently. Elvis still didn’t know how little I’d traveled before meeting him, I realized.

“No,” I answered.

A smile crept across his face. “I’d really like to take you there,” he said.

Wow,
I thought. That would be a dream come true! I’d always wanted to go to Hawaii. “I’d love to see it,” I said.

And so it was settled: Elvis decided he wanted to leave on March 3 and graciously invited my whole family. Only my sisters would be able to make this trip, and my parents offered to take care of Odyssey.

The evening of our departure, I was sitting with Terry and Rosemary in the living room at Graceland, packed and waiting for Elvis to finish getting ready upstairs, when the doorbell rang. One of the maids opened it.

A man, dressed in a suit and carrying a briefcase, stepped into the foyer, accompanied by a woman. Walking past my sisters and me, they went upstairs, leaving us wondering who they were.

Not long afterward, someone asked me to come upstairs. I entered Elvis’s office and saw him seated at his desk, talking with Charlie and the two strangers. Elvis introduced the man to me as his attorney, Beecher Smith, and the woman as Beecher’s wife. Elvis’s will was lying on the desk in front of them.

“I need witnesses, and you and Charlie are close by,” Elvis said.

This was the first business document I’d ever seen placed before him. It was obvious that Elvis didn’t want to be bothered with it, since he started making comments about Hawaii and seemed anxious to leave.

I noticed that, on the last page of his will, the year 1976 had been crossed through and 1977 was written in its place. Elvis didn’t read anything in my presence. He just quickly signed the will and then Charlie, Mrs. Smith, and I signed as witnesses. I never wondered about the will or the timing of Elvis signing the document at that time. I just looked at it as a little bit of business that Elvis had to do before leaving.

A little while later, we were on the way to the airport, all of us excited about the trip. I mentioned that it was an extra-special treat for Terry because it was her birthday. What a great birthday gift! Elvis smiled broadly and wished her a happy one.

I had become aware at Graceland that Charlie and Billy and Jo Smith were also going to Hawaii, but it wasn’t until we arrived at the airport and boarded the
Lisa Marie
that I realized how many people were actually gathered for the trip: aides, stepbrothers, wives, girlfriends, bodyguards, Lamar, Larry, and even Dr. Nichopoulos and his entire family were all on board the plane. Discovering this reminded me once again that Elvis’s generous impulses weren’t reserved only for me and my family, but bestowed on all those around him.

Elvis greeted everyone and then asked me to join him at the back of the plane. I suspected he felt most comfortable being in the bedroom during takeoff. After the
Lisa Marie
was in the air, we moved up front to visit with various members of the group. Elvis had never met some of the girls who were coming along. One of them was Lamar’s date. She had a funny sense of humor, and she hit it off with Rosemary and Terry.

A little while into the flight, my sisters told me they had been chatting with her when Lamar took hold of her hand and she looked at them with a tolerant smile. She had then rolled her eyes at my sisters behind Lamar’s back, as if to say, “This is something I have to do.”

It was obvious, I thought, that this woman had come along on the trip only to meet Elvis. She later confirmed this by telling my sisters that she didn’t really want to be with Lamar.

We landed in Oakland, California, where Ed Parker and his wife, Leilani, boarded the plane. With their addition to our group of travelers, I thought there had to be at least thirty people now on board! Before long, we were in the air again and soaring over the Pacific Ocean.

During this portion of the trip, Elvis mainly stayed in the back of the plane with my sisters and me with the door closed. He was in a silly mood. At one point, he started talking about rats and said he thought his aide Dean looked like one.

Cutting up and laughing, Elvis joked about rats, cheese, and other people on board he thought looked like rats. My sisters and I had him pretend he was in a movie with cameras rolling. As if envisioning rats all around him, Elvis hunched his shoulders and, with a panic-stricken look, suddenly shouted, “Rats! Millions of them! They’re all around me, crawling all over my body!”

Elvis had us all in stitches. It was great to see him having so much fun. The three of us egged him on and he continued to act out various silly scenarios with rats.

After a while, Rosemary, Terry, and I went up front to get a snack and a drink. Following us out, Elvis took a seat in the room just outside the bedroom, and Dr. Nichopoulos walked back and began chatting with him.

My sisters and I got our refreshments and headed back toward the bedroom. Elvis was still in a conversation with Dr. Nichopoulos and, as we passed them, Rosemary looked at Elvis.

“Would you like some cheese?” she asked.

He laughed, shushed her, and said, “Get out of here, Rosemary.”

Elvis soon joined us in the bedroom and asked Rosemary, “So what’s going on up front?”

“Oh, not much,” she said, then casually told him what a few people were doing, including Charlie, saying that he was talking to Ed about some of the books Elvis had been reading.

When she mentioned this, Elvis asked, “Charlie’s doing
what
?”

Elvis then told us that Ed was a devout Mormon, and said he was worried about Charlie drinking and saying the wrong things about his books. I sensed that Elvis didn’t want to upset Ed or disrespect him in any way.

Elvis called for Charlie to come to the back. When Charlie walked in, Elvis said, “Charlie, man . . . be careful how you talk about my books with Ed.”

Charlie looked puzzled. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong,” he said, but Elvis didn’t want to hear it. Looking a little hurt, Charlie slunk out the door.

As we approached Hawaii, Elvis began rhapsodizing about the islands. Later, Elvis whispered to me, “Can you imagine if we got married here? It would blow everybody away.”

I froze for a moment.
Is he seriously considering this?

Then, as if reminding himself, Elvis said, “God will tell me when the time is right, though.”

When the
Lisa Marie
touched down on the island of Oahu, Elvis made the moment all the more magical as he began softly singing “Blue Hawaii,” to my sisters and me. I couldn’t believe we were actually here!

As I followed Elvis outside onto a mobile stairway, the first thing that hit me was the overwhelming fragrance of flowers. Hawaiians greeted us and placed beautiful leis around our necks after we descended the steps.

My sisters and I rode with Elvis in a limousine from the airport while the rest of the group followed in a small bus. About twenty minutes later, we pulled onto the grounds of the Rainbow Tower at Hilton Hawaiian Village. It looked like a tropical paradise with its gardens, ponds, and waterfalls.

Elvis had reserved a suite of rooms on the thirty-first floor and arranged for Terry and Rosemary to be in a bedroom across the living room from ours. A few of the guys came in to help us settle in our room. They brought in the bags, laid out Elvis’s books, and left a contact sheet so we’d know who was on duty and when.

Elvis eagerly took me by the hand and led me onto the suite’s balcony, where I took in the unbelievably gorgeous, postcard-perfect view of Waikiki Beach below and, in the distance, a volcanic crater that Elvis said was Diamond Head. I couldn’t wait to see it all up close.

Rosemary and Terry were going downstairs to look around, but before they did, Elvis remembered Terry’s birthday and thoughtfully called a jeweler to come to our suite with a selection of pieces. Generous as always, Elvis picked out a beautiful ring and gave it to Terry.

My sisters eventually left and a few other people stopped by our suite to greet us. Before long, however, Elvis went into the bedroom and sat on the bed, where he picked out some books and appeared to be ready to read and relax.

Could he really want to read now, I wondered, when there was so much to see? Then it hit me: We’d been up almost twenty-four hours. I was too excited to feel the effects of jet lag or our sleepless night. Now I realized that Elvis was probably getting tired, so I joined him on the bed. We read for a little while and then slept.

When we woke up, I thought Elvis might have something planned for us to do or something he might want to show me, since he’d been here before. He surprised me, though, by saying I should go with Terry and Rosemary to the beach in front of the hotel.

I wanted Elvis to come with us so badly, but how far could he walk outside without being recognized and most probably mobbed? Not far, I realized. Still, I hated the thought of just leaving him sitting here alone inside while the rest of us went out and enjoyed ourselves. There had to be a way to get him out of the hotel.

My sisters were back in the suite by now. The three of us tried talking Elvis into sneaking downstairs incognito. Rosemary suggested a wig and different glasses, but he shook his head.

“Nah,” he said. “I don’t wanna wear that.”

It was a beautiful hotel, but now I wondered who had arranged for us to stay in this particular place—a hotel where Elvis clearly couldn’t go outside and relax because there were too many people around.

When a few members of his entourage showed up in the suite to visit with Elvis, knowing he wouldn’t be alone, I decided to accompany my sisters to the beach. It truly was paradise, complete with palm trees and clear turquoise ocean. Rosemary stayed in the shade, but Terry and I picked out a spot on the sand where we could lie down on our towels and soak up the sun.

Rosemary was the smart one, it turned out. Terry and I were both oblivious to the strength of the sun’s rays in Hawaii. We weren’t on the beach long, but when we returned to the suite, Terry—who was fairer than I—discovered that her body and face were seriously sunburned. Her lips had blown up like little sausages! This was years before collagen would become fashionable, and Terry was mortified.

My face was also badly burned and my eyelids were swollen. The two of us were extremely embarrassed.

The minute Elvis saw us, he asked Larry to come to the suite to try some healing techniques on Terry. Larry arrived and Terry lay down on her bed. As Rosemary and I stood by watching, Larry and Elvis placed their hands a few inches above Terry’s back and legs, telling her to think of healing colors.

Elvis mentioned something about aloe vera gel and requested an aide to find us some; he told Terry she should spread it over her sunburn. Neither my sisters nor I were familiar with the gel, but Terry was in pain and I hoped that one of the things Elvis and Larry were kindly trying to do would comfort her. Before long, someone brought up some gel and Terry and I liberally applied it. It did help us feel a little better.

Hawaiian music continuously played outside by the beach. Later that evening, my sisters and I dared Elvis to go on the balcony and sing along. He walked out; I stepped up beside him, and he began to sing. It was another perfect moment, as the flames from tiki torches softly lit the beach below us and I gazed out over the ocean while listening to Elvis serenade us.

At one point, I decided to call our parents to let them know we had arrived safely. I went with Rosemary and Terry into their room and dialed an operator to place a collect call. Elvis walked in and asked what I was doing.

“I’m trying to reach our parents.”

He took the phone from my hand and said into the receiver, “This is Elvis Presley and I’m trying to get connected.”

Of course the operator didn’t believe him. My sisters and I started laughing as he began singing in an effort to convince the woman.

It worked. Within seconds, I was speaking with my parents and letting them know that we were all fine.

Elvis relaxed for the rest of that evening, visiting with a few people in our suite, and then we went to bed. When we woke the next day, he decided to send me shopping with Rosemary and Terry.

Still wondering when, or even if, Elvis would ever go outside, I put on a crocheted halter-top and some jeans. As I started to leave, Elvis stopped me.

“Ginger, I don’t want you to go out like that,” he said.

Confused, I looked at him for a minute, wondering what was wrong with my outfit.

“I’d like you to wear a shirt over it,” he added.

Why was he saying that? Was he being protective? Did he not want other men looking at me?

This was the first time I’d ever seen Elvis react this way to something I had chosen to wear. I was flattered by his concern, no matter what had provoked it.

“Okay,” I said. I put a shirt on over my top and left with my sisters, who said they’d gone downstairs earlier and run into Lamar’s date, who was “as red as a lobster.”