Elvis and Ginger: Elvis Presley's Fiancée and Last Love Finally Tells Her Story (32 page)

“Mrs. Alden, I want you to call my father and take your house notes, payment books, or whatever you have on the house to him. He will take care of it for you,” he said.

After speaking with Elvis, my mother later called Vernon. He reiterated what Elvis had said, and asked her to bring her payment book and any papers on our home over to his house the following day.

The next evening, Vernon was visiting with Elvis in Lisa’s room when I arrived at Graceland. As I walked in, Vernon said, “Your mother just brought me her payment books. She doesn’t have to worry about her mortgage anymore.”

I thanked both Elvis and Mr. Presley. I knew a great burden had been lifted from my mother’s shoulders, and it felt wonderful. I could never pay Elvis back financially for this kind of expansiveness, but my family and I would be forever grateful.

My favorite time of day had always been early evening, just as the sun started to set. Now, with the warmer weather, Elvis and I sometimes sat on the front porch at Graceland, where he usually brought a cigar and a jug of water outside with him.

The view over Graceland’s rolling front lawn was beautiful. Elvis and I both loved how peaceful it was. Sometimes we didn’t talk at all, just listened to the sounds of nature.

One evening, as we were sitting quietly on the porch, Elvis took notice of the crickets. “Listen,” he said. “They’re singing in unison.”

It occurred to me that, when Elvis talked about music as the universal language, he wasn’t just referring to humans. He heard music everywhere, in all levels of life. Because music had been a big part of my life, too, early on, watching Elvis sing and hearing him talk about music made me wish I hadn’t been too self-conscious to continue singing.

Once, Elvis asked if I knew the song, “Since I Met You Baby.” As we sat in bed together, we began singing it and harmonizing together. I didn’t know all of the words, but I loved it when Elvis said we sounded good together. If singing with Elvis couldn’t help me get over my fear of doing this in front of people, probably nothing could!

Another night, Elvis asked Billy and Jo to come to his bedroom. He’d been talking with me about a new song of his, “Way Down.” He had recorded it in October 1976 and it would be the last song he would ever record. When Billy and Jo came in, he put the record on the stereo.

Still seated in bed, Elvis began to sing along with it. When it was time to sing the words, “way down,” Elvis wanted each of us to take a turn, pointing to Jo, Billy, and me in turn. When it was time, he pretended to hit the low notes that J. D. Sumner reached in the song.

We all chimed in, and I had a lot of fun. I felt a little more like part of Elvis’s family that night, singing and cutting up with his cousins.

When I arrived at Graceland one day shortly after that, Elvis said, “I was talkin’ with my daddy, and he asked me, ‘Isn’t Ginger gonna use that credit card?’”

I thought Vernon would be happy that I didn’t. I had started to notice Vernon coming over more when I was there; once, when Vernon’s attention was on something else in the room, Elvis tapped my arm and motioned for me to watch him, as he had done once with Lisa.

After his father left, Elvis asked, “Did you notice that it’s almost as if my daddy hates to leave the room when we’re together? It’s gonna do my daddy’s heart good to see us married,” he said.

I was excited that Elvis felt this way and hoped he was right.

•   •   •

Elvis hadn’t really gone out anywhere since we’d been off tour. He talked about riding his motorcycle or the three-wheelers, but he had canceled whatever plans he’d made at the last minute.

One afternoon, I was at home when my mother decided to have a backyard barbeque. I got excited, thinking this would be a great thing for Elvis to do. I hoped it would encourage him to get out and vary his routine for a change.

When I called and invited him, however, Elvis declined. I felt stymied. This was discouraging.

Shortly afterward, my father called and my parents got into a heated argument. My mother was upset afterward, afraid that my father might show up at the house. She wasn’t ready to see him. She decided she’d go to a hotel for the night and, since I wasn’t happy about Elvis not wanting to come over, I went with her. So much for the barbeque.

That night, my mother and I talked about my dad for hours and I didn’t get any sleep. The phone in our hotel rang around 5
A.M.
It was Elvis’s aide, Dean, saying he’d gotten the number from Rosemary. He put Elvis on the phone.

I told Elvis where I was and why my mother needed me there. Then our conversation turned back to the barbeque. I tried to explain to Elvis that I really wanted to get him out more.

“Ginger, you have to understand, I can’t do what normal people do,” he said.

I was confused by this statement. Elvis had been to my house before. Why was this so different? Had he thought our barbeque was going to involve meeting a whole bunch of people? This barbeque had been for just my immediate family. Maybe I hadn’t been clear about that; I explained it to him again over the phone.

“Oh, well, I like hamburgers,” Elvis said easily. “Maybe next time.” He asked me to come to Graceland then and bring my mother.

Dawn was breaking when we arrived. I was surprised when I went upstairs and found Elvis sound asleep. It was as if he felt comforted, knowing we were on our way.

It was a beautiful morning, so I decided to take a walk with my mother around the grounds behind Graceland, and ended up taking her to the racquetball court. I had yet to see it myself. We took a quick peek inside the court, then went back to the house.

Because Elvis was still asleep and my mother and I hadn’t had any rest, I told her to go into Lisa’s bedroom. Meanwhile, I lay down beside Elvis. Before I knew it, I was out like a light.

When I woke that afternoon, Elvis asked where my mother was. “Lisa’s room,” I said sleepily.

Elvis got up, went down the hall, and brought my mother back into his room. Always respectful of her, he apologized about the barbeque. My mother told him she understood, and they had a nice visit. I felt happy, satisfied that at least they were spending some time together, even if it wasn’t the time I’d hoped for.

•   •   •

In a solemn mood one night, Elvis brought up the book that his three former bodyguards had written about him. I had no idea who they were.

“Just because I’m a public figure,” he said adamantly, explaining why the guards had written the book. “Everyone has done good things and bad, but most of it’s untrue anyway.”

Elvis looked at me quite seriously then. “I want to make it clear. It’s not the content, but the principle of the thing that hurts me.”

“I helped make Dave Hebler a seventh-degree black belt,” he said, shaking his head. “Red got on an elevator once and punched a guy. I think that went on a lot. The guy was going to sue me,” he added. “I had lots of lawsuits. I did a lot for these people and their families. I bought them homes, helped put their kids through school. The fact that they would turn and do this to me . . .” Elvis paused, noticeably upset.

Then his mood lifted. “I know the general public will stand behind me,” he said. “I’m gonna let it pass and not say anything.” He fell silent for another moment, then became more contemplative. “You’ve got to kill it and get it behind you. If something ever bothers you, Ginger, you’ve got to kill it and get it behind you.”

“Don’t worry,” I said, trying to soothe him. “Most people will see through what’s in the book, and your fans will stand behind you.”

I would learn only shortly after Elvis died, that Vernon had fired these men before Elvis and I ever met. At the time, I hoped only to reassure Elvis, and I thought it helped because things returned to normal. Elvis seemed to have arrived at a place in his mind where he had figured out how to handle this serious betrayal by people who had worked for him. From that day on, I would never hear another word from him about the book.

•   •   •

As often as Elvis refused to go out, he would suddenly decide he was in the mood to go out more again. Sometimes we’d take a ride on his three-wheelers and Elvis would even let me drive one, which I loved to do.

Elvis would usually race his three-wheeler down to the Southland Mall parking lot, buzz around some hedges, come back to Graceland, drive fast by the pool, and jump the walkway to the racquetball court.

One night, after letting me ride one of his three-wheelers, Elvis generously offered to give it to me to keep at our home. I shook my head, bemused. Like the huge self-portrait Elvis had once given me, I had no space big enough to keep it. I told him I would leave it at Graceland.

Elvis loved driving fast sometimes whether he was on a three-wheeler, a motorcycle, or in a car. Once, I was heading home from Graceland, riding in my Cadillac on Mt. Moriah Road with Elvis at the wheel. As we approached a stoplight, it turned yellow. Elvis gunned the accelerator to make it through the intersection.

Looking back, I saw the bodyguards stuck at the red light. Elvis drove on, unaware, and for the next few minutes, I thought about how nice it felt to be alone with him. I understood he needed extra protection because of his celebrity, but I did wish there could be more times like this, when it seemed like there were just the two of us on the road.

•   •   •

Whenever Lisa was at Graceland, her company brought out Elvis’s playful side. Elvis and I were sitting on the front porch one afternoon when Lisa buzzed by in her golf cart, asking the two of us to ride with her. Elvis got behind the wheel and, with me at his side and Lisa in back, took off.

Still wearing his pajamas and a robe, a cigar clenched between his teeth, Elvis barreled close to the gates, jumped a few curbs, then buzzed up the driveway and tore out the back entrance. We passed a church, then raced through the back gate, where Elvis stopped by his office to talk with his dad, then got back on and sped away with us again. I cherished times like this, because Elvis was so clearly relaxed and enjoying himself.

While Lisa was with us, I reminded Elvis that my niece Amber was close to Lisa’s age. I was happy when Elvis suggested bringing Amber to Graceland so the two girls could meet. Happily, the two of them hit it off, and Lisa started inviting Amber to play and for sleepovers. This helped me feel like our two families were starting to blend at last, and led me to know Lisa a little better.

Besides playing with Amber or tearing around on her golf cart or Elvis’s three-wheelers, Lisa loved to sing. Sometimes, I’d find her sitting on the stairway at Graceland with Amber, singing Fleetwood Mac tunes like “Dreams.” She also loved to play the piano; some of the few times Elvis sat downstairs at Graceland, was to watch Lisa at the keyboard.

I played piano a little by ear myself. Occasionally, Elvis wanted Lisa and me to play together on the organ in his office while he listened. Once, Lisa was talking on the phone with her mother and asked me to play something on the organ. She held the phone my way, telling Priscilla to listen. Embarrassed by my so-so ability, but wanting to please Lisa, I chose something short.

One afternoon I arrived at Graceland to find Elvis in his room, seated in bed. He shook his head in wonder at me and said, “Lisa came into my room earlier, walked up to me, and asked, ‘Daddy, you love Ginger more than you love Linda, don’t you?’ I told her, ‘Yes, but now don’t forget that Linda was nice to you, she took you places and did a lot of things for you.’ She said, ‘I know, I’m just happy.’” Elvis made a walking movement with his fingers, and added, “She skipped out of the room.”

It was nice of Elvis not to want Lisa to think less of Linda just because he was with me, I thought, and I could see how relieved he was that Lisa approved of me. I was glad, too. I’d been hoping that many of the people around Elvis, especially his family, would come to accept me, but no one was more important in this regard than Lisa.

I had yet to tell anyone outside my family and close friends about our engagement and Elvis had still yet to tell Lisa. I wore my engagement ring most of the time at Graceland, rarely taking it off but to wash my face. However, because the ring was so valuable, sometimes I felt safer, when going home, to leave it in the jewelry box Elvis had given me.

Several days later, however, I happened to be in Lisa’s room when she came up to me and asked if her daddy and I were going to get married.

My answer nearly got caught in my throat, thinking someone must have told her about our engagement. “I hope so,” I told her, completely caught off guard. I knew how much Elvis wanted to tell her at the “right time,” and I didn’t want to jump the gun.

Right away, she called me her “second mommy.” Lisa’s innocent, pure acceptance of me made me feel really good. Later, I learned that the reason Lisa had asked me about our marriage was because she’d been playing in my bathroom with one of her friends when I was away and she’d seen my engagement ring in my jewelry box. Her friend had been the one who’d explained to her what the ring meant.

As a father, I knew Elvis had been anxious about telling her, but I also knew that Lisa knowing about our engagement, and accepting it, would surely make things easier for Elvis as it had now for me. I went into the bedroom and told him about what had just happened with Lisa. His look, a mixture of surprise and relief, seemed to say, “Okay . . . the cat’s out of the bag now, I’ll talk to Lisa . . . here we go.”

Shortly after that, Lisa joined us. Calling me Mommy, she giggled, and then said that she was going to call me Mommy even in front of her mother.

Elvis and I exchanged looks that said exactly the same thing: “
That
will go over well.” I didn’t like to think about how Priscilla might respond to this, and I’m sure Elvis didn’t either. But at least our concern about what effect this would have on Lisa had been completely unnecessary. Lisa clearly seemed fine about the idea of us getting married.