Baby, Let's Play House Part 25

On the afternoon following the show, Minnie, aka Sarah Cannon, joined some of the musicians down on Waikiki Beach, "cavorting and kidding and having a big time. We got to talking about how we wished Elvis could come down and be with us, and we turned and looked up at his penthouse, which was facing the ocean. He was standing on the balcony, looking down at us, this solitary figure, lonely-looking, watching us have such a good time. He was literally a prisoner because of the fans. We sat there on the beach and talked about how it would be-what a price you pay for that sort of fame."

Elvis had a different experience from the balcony when nineteen-year-old cast member Darlene Tompkins visited his penthouse. "His buddies had gone out onto the wide patio which overlooked the beach, and they started yelling to him, 'Elvis, come out here, some of the girls on the beach want to see you!'

"I realized he was ignoring them, and I finally said, 'Elvis, those are your fans. You really should go out there and let them see you.' He hesitated and then said, 'I probably shouldn't.' Whereupon I asked, 'Well, why not?' He kind of sighed for a second and then said, 'Okay, come on out here with me, and I'll show you what always happens.'

"The two of us walked out onto the patio, and an immediate cheer went up from the crowd of people, mostly beautiful young women. No sooner had we gotten to the railing before a number of the young females began taking their bikini bathing suit tops off and waving them around in the air, while the ones wearing one-piece suits pulled their tops down, trying to catch his attention. Elvis immediately yelled, 'Come on now, girls, don't do that,' which was quickly met by a resounding, 'Keep doing it! Keep doing it!' from Elvis's guy friends. Elvis looked sheepishly at me and in an embarra.s.sed tone, said, 'That's what the girls always do.' "

Darlene, who played one of the teenagers, had first run into him in the hallway of the hotel, where he said, "Hi, how are you?" in "a very soft, friendly voice." She doesn't remember what either of them said after that because, "I was so nervous and my legs were so wobbly I was afraid I was going to fall to the floor right there in front of him. I just remember thinking as we stood there chatting, 'I can't believe how beautiful he is, more so than in any picture I've ever seen of him.' It was an experience I'll never forget."

Later, they expanded their friendship to kissing, though Elvis also became interested in Pamela Austin (then billed as Pamela Kirk), who played another of the students on tour with their teacher, and who would also appear in a later Elvis movie, Kissin' Cousins. Kissin' Cousins.

His more intense love interest was his scripted girlfriend, Joan Blackman, who bore a slight resemblance to both his mother and to Priscilla, Joe Esposito thought. Joan understood the attraction: "He was always looking for someone with black hair and blue eyes, and I had that naturally." She was cast in Blue Hawaii Blue Hawaii only eleven days before shooting, replacing Juliet Prowse, who made too many demands for Hal Wallis's liking. The day she walked on the set, Joan says, Elvis approached her and said, "Man, you're beautiful." Joe counts their romance as one of Elvis's "real relationships," though it was brief. only eleven days before shooting, replacing Juliet Prowse, who made too many demands for Hal Wallis's liking. The day she walked on the set, Joan says, Elvis approached her and said, "Man, you're beautiful." Joe counts their romance as one of Elvis's "real relationships," though it was brief.

"We had rooms next to each other in the hotel, and for weeks we just about lived together," she has said. But she was serious about her work. "If it came to a toss-up between meeting Elvis for dinner or getting my sleep because of having to be on the set the next day, my work always won." She also objected to the entourage: "It's hard to talk with eight people at a time and really relate."

Joan, who had competed in beauty contests as a young child and began singing and dancing professionally at age eleven, claims to have met Elvis at Paramount in 1957 and dated him for a year before he went into the army.

"There was something between us . . . he had really liked me [when I knew him before], and some of that rekindled on the set. Had I not been dating someone else at the time we filmed, things could have gotten serious between us."

Blue Hawaii, for all its lush tropical settings and sentimental romance, was not a particularly fun movie to shoot, Joan says, as Hal Wallis "was not the kind of person that you had a good time with. Our sets were very serious. . . . In certain dialogue scenes Elvis was very nervous. He used to hold my hand until I thought he'd never let me go." for all its lush tropical settings and sentimental romance, was not a particularly fun movie to shoot, Joan says, as Hal Wallis "was not the kind of person that you had a good time with. Our sets were very serious. . . . In certain dialogue scenes Elvis was very nervous. He used to hold my hand until I thought he'd never let me go."

To break up the tension, whenever something went wrong on the set, particularly if one of the guys accidentally ruined a take, Elvis would cup his hands around his mouth and mimic a loudspeaker: "Flight 247, now leaving from Honolulu to Memphis, with Charlie Hodge on board."

"He needed to do stuff like that because he was not at ease in front of the camera," in Joan's estimation.

On the other hand, Joan thought that Elvis was too pa.s.sive. He rarely asked to change dialogue that he found difficult. And unlike in his prearmy films, he usually accepted direction he didn't agree with rather than question it.

"It takes a lot of courage to take a chance and fight for it, to say, 'I want this.' I don't think he could handle that. He didn't want to make waves."

Joe Esposito blames it on Elvis's military experience and his renewed respect for authority.

"The army calmed him down, but it hurt him more than it helped him, because it tamed him too much. When he came out, he became more oriented to do what he was told. And because of his upbringing, he could never stand up to a person who was older than he was. He could scream and yell and chew us out, but he was taught to always respect his elders. That hurt him in his career. He should have said, 'This is what I want to do. Let's try it, and if it doesn't work, I'll understand.' That's why he made so many mediocre movies."

He particularly put too much trust in director Taurog, Joan thought, as well as other directors down the line. Had he gone along with some of his own instincts, "He might have done some different kind[s] of films."

Blue Hawaii, Elvis's first bikini picture, followed the musical format of Elvis's first bikini picture, followed the musical format of G.I. Blues G.I. Blues-fourteen songs in all, three more than even its model. But it easily surpa.s.sed it at the box office, and quickly recouped its $2 million budget. In placing Elvis in an exotic locale, and wedding a plethora of romance to nonstop music-the film's biggest hit, "Can't Help Falling in Love," fell just short of number one, and the soundtrack topped the charts, selling two million copies in the first year alone-Wallis had perfected his winning Presley formula. The popularity of Blue Hawaii Blue Hawaii doomed Elvis's chances of ever returning to serious dramatic fare, and only rarely did he even attempt to venture beyond the film's stifling structure. doomed Elvis's chances of ever returning to serious dramatic fare, and only rarely did he even attempt to venture beyond the film's stifling structure.

Nearly all the Elvis movies produced after the release of Blue Hawaii Blue Hawaii would be a.s.sembled around his personality-or Hollywood's conception of it-just as films had once been fashioned around such female stars as Mae West and Shirley Temple. The Wallis productions were the last Hollywood vehicles guaranteed to pull a reliable gross solely because of their star. This led the producer himself to remark, "A Presley picture is the only sure thing in show business." would be a.s.sembled around his personality-or Hollywood's conception of it-just as films had once been fashioned around such female stars as Mae West and Shirley Temple. The Wallis productions were the last Hollywood vehicles guaranteed to pull a reliable gross solely because of their star. This led the producer himself to remark, "A Presley picture is the only sure thing in show business."

Elvis's next film, Follow That Dream, for United Artists, also sent him to a sunny for United Artists, also sent him to a sunny clime, this time to Crystal River, Florida. Based on Richard Powell's novel clime, this time to Crystal River, Florida. Based on Richard Powell's novel Pioneer, Go Home, Pioneer, Go Home, and produced by David Weisbart ( and produced by David Weisbart (Love Me Tender), the film attempted to meld comedy and social satire. But in failing to capture the humor of rural southerners, director Gordon Douglas ended up with something akin to a "Li'l Abner" cartoon, an embarra.s.sing mishmash of a movie about a blended family, welfare, and homesteading.

Still, there were highlights. "Elvis was really good in that film," in the estimation of his costar, Anne Helm. "I thought he was a wonderful actor. He had a scene where we were in a courtroom, and they had hired all the townspeople to be extras. . . . He turned to them and gave a very emotional speech about why the children should not be taken away from us. He was so believable that he had the townspeople in tears. It was interesting to see, because I had never thought about him as an actor."

When Elvis learned that he would be spending nearly three weeks in Florida, he sent word to Jackie Rowland, his Jacksonville sweetheart, asking her to come to him. She was nineteen now, but her mother still frowned on her friendship with Elvis and had refused Gladys's invitation to visit Graceland. Now Marguerite waffled on whether she would let her daughter go to Crystal River. ("You will go when I will take you.") By the time they finally arrived, says Jackie, "Elvis had gone, and left a message that he couldn't wait for me any longer. I knew at that point that it was a hopeless cause for the two of us." Never again would she receive an invitation from him, though he would have RCA send her alb.u.ms into the 1970s.

Elvis had his hands full of women in Crystal River as it was. He was romancing both of his costars, the voluptuous, Toronto-born Helm and the southern beauty Joanna Moore.

Of the two, he had an easier time with the down-to-earth Helm, whom he allowed to "become one of the guys" and join his poker games with the Memphis Mafia. "I lost money. One time I had to write a check to Elvis to cover my loss. He didn't cash that check for a long time."

In many ways, her character mirrored Elvis's fantasies about Sandy Ferra and Priscilla Beaulieu. As Holly Jones, Anne played a live-in orphan who grows up under Elvis's protective eye, maturing from a scrawny teen to a young woman. "You know anything about s.e.x, Holly?" his character asks.

"I really fell for Elvis, I mean, who wouldn't? We did have a romance, and it was quite wonderful." She wrote poetry about him during the day, and at night, they went for drives in his Cadillac, flying through silhouetted palms and scrub oak along State Road 40, Elvis fiddling with the radio dial.

"It was so strange when 'Hound Dog' would come on, and there I was, sitting next to him." The evenings usually ended up with more than a romantic drive, though. "He really liked s.e.x. A lot of nights I didn't go back to my own bungalow. I felt a little ashamed about it the next morning, because I knew that the people on the set realized what was going on." At the same time, "I had fun. And it was special."

Though she had been a showgirl at New York's Copacabana nightclub, she hadn't realized the extent of Elvis's fame until she accompanied him to Weeki Wachee Springs, Florida, on July 30, 1961, for a special ceremony honoring his achievements. There, the Colonel, reliving his Florida carnival days, arranged for a mermaid show of what the ol' hustler dubbed the Elvis Presley Underwater Fan Club.

Thousands of people showed up, "and they were behind a wire fence to keep them away from him, because they were crazed," Helm remembers. "I was really overwhelmed by it, because I'd never seen such madness for someone." She was equally surprised that Elvis stayed and signed autographs for several hours. "I was so touched by that. He really revered his fans. He was lovely with them." They brought out all "the sweetness and cream in him," she thought, watching him walk along the fence, talking with people.

She continued to see him when they returned to California, but she found it more difficult to date him there, where he no longer knocked on her door and brought her flowers, and where his parties consisted of carpet-to-carpet women, mostly young girls. One night at the piano, he said something to her that angered her, and she pulled the piano lid down on his hands. It hurt his finger, and "He was really mad, for the first time, at me." She apologized, but it didn't seem to help, and the next day, she went out and bought a gag gift, a big rubber thumb, and sent it to him with a note. Still, "I never heard from him again."

She knew to give up and to cherish what now seemed like a shipboard romance in Florida. In California, "He had many lives, he had many women around him. It wasn't like Crystal River, where I had him all to myself every night."

But that was only because Elvis had become frightened of Joanna Moore. According to Joe Esposito, her reputation for promiscuity preceded her on the Follow That Dream Follow That Dream set set, and "sure enough, they went off together." The affair was short-lived, however, because Elvis found her strange and emotionally fragile. She spoke in a voice that was both high-pitched and tense, and she was far too effusive with both the guys and with Elvis, declaring her love for him almost immediately. When she became clingy, he quickly moved on to Anne. and "sure enough, they went off together." The affair was short-lived, however, because Elvis found her strange and emotionally fragile. She spoke in a voice that was both high-pitched and tense, and she was far too effusive with both the guys and with Elvis, declaring her love for him almost immediately. When she became clingy, he quickly moved on to Anne.

However, when filming resumed in California, Joanna was not to be ignored. She showed up at Elvis's door late one night, looking terrible, "as if she'd just climbed out of bed," Joe remembered. Slurring her words, she demanded to see Elvis. When Joe told her Elvis was asleep, she began crying and tried to force her way into the house. She pa.s.sed out in Joe's and Charlie's arms, and after Charlie got a wet cloth and revived her, Joe asked her what could be so important that couldn't wait until morning.

"Elvis got me pregnant," she moaned. "And I took a bunch of sleeping pills. I have to talk to him!"

Charlie and Joe took her to the UCLA Emergency Room, where doctors pumped her stomach. The next morning, the guys told Elvis what had happened.

"Make sure you call and find out how she's doing today," he said. "I knew that girl had problems. That's why I stopped seeing her."

As for the pregnancy, Joe says, the doctors saw no evidence of it.

On his next picture, Kid Galahad, Kid Galahad, a remake of the 1937 boxer film of the same t.i.tle, Elvis was once more romantically paired with Joan Blackman. He had requested her on the film, but by the time it went into production, he was also involved with twenty-three-year-old Connie Stevens, who he'd seen in the a remake of the 1937 boxer film of the same t.i.tle, Elvis was once more romantically paired with Joan Blackman. He had requested her on the film, but by the time it went into production, he was also involved with twenty-three-year-old Connie Stevens, who he'd seen in the Hawaiian Eye Hawaiian Eye television series. As soon as he asked her out, "I knew," she says, "this was a fellow who could break your heart." Still, she couldn't resist him: "He was just so beautiful. He had mischievous eyes that darted around the room." television series. As soon as he asked her out, "I knew," she says, "this was a fellow who could break your heart." Still, she couldn't resist him: "He was just so beautiful. He had mischievous eyes that darted around the room."

She saw him on and off for two years. "I really cared about him. I cared what happened to his life." And so she worked on him to find a way to live a more normal existence, to not be so isolated and such a prisoner of fame. He no longer walked around with a wallet. ("Elvis never carried a dime in his pocket, no matter where he went," says Joe.) And when it came to women, it was as if he had forgotten how to date. As for being mobbed, once he got past the gate girls, who waited all day and night for him to come out, surely he could just go to dinner and a movie in the film star capital of the world, couldn't he?

"He finally listened to me long enough, and we went to Grauman's Chinese [Theatre], and I thought, 'I'll never put this guy through this again.' I remember Joe put money in his pocket, and he was nervous as h.e.l.l. And we went out in the car, and he wore his favorite cap, and we ran out of gas. He was just panic-stricken. 'Don't worry, we'll push this car.' "

They managed to get the car into a gas station, but as he had done in Germany, he missed the beginning of the picture, because he was afraid too many people would recognize him going in, and he missed the end of the picture, so they could get out without being bothered.

"Sure enough, we got out into the car and we were going home, laughing about the whole night, and he went to reach for his favorite cap, and it was gone. That was so typical, people wanting a piece of him all of the time."

Connie wanted something too, of course: She wanted a part of Elvis's heart. "But one of the things I knew instinctively was that he probably couldn't be captured, and shouldn't be captured, because he was so special that he needed to be in the world. He was a very dear, precious person."

Of all the men she dated-she would later marry Eddie Fisher-Elvis was her father's favorite. "He was one of the loves of my life," she admits. "I could have spent a lifetime with him. And I knew it was never to be." Not only were the other women a problem, she says, but to be with him, "you had to follow the crowd." Like Joan Blackman, "I got tired of going out with eleven guys for dinner."

By spring 1962 the entourage included Joe, Gene, Lamar, Alan, Billy, and Ray "Chief" Sitton. Sonny, Red, and Charlie were still part of the Mafia, though they all sought independent work, Sonny and Red in Hollywood, and Charlie with country singer Jimmy Wakely. Cliff would continue to be hired and fired with regularity, and Lamar would soon be gone, though only temporarily, after a blowup with Elvis.

Patti still worked her hairdressing job, but she went wherever Elvis was three days a week and remained a fixture at the house whenever he was in California. And Marty Lacker, who had first started coming up to Graceland in 1957 but had just now officially joined the group, would weave in and out in the early 1960s. Marty would quickly develop a fondness for pills, mostly downers to round off the high ends of his intensity.

Elvis now began traveling cross-country in a 1962 Dodge motor home, replete with double bed, two bunks, a kitchen, and air-conditioning. He paid in excess of $10,000 for it and planned to have George Barris, "Customizer to the Stars," who'd transformed Elvis's 1960 Cadillac limousine into a "solid gold," Vegas-ready extravaganza, add the finishing touches.

And there were other changes. At the end of 1961, Elvis decided he'd outgrown the Perugia Way house-neighbors complained that the girls out front made the place look like a male bordello-and moved to another rental property, an elegant Italian villa just around the corner at 10539 Bellagio Road. The mansion was "very grand," says Joe, and came with a butler.

They had been there only a few days, according to Alan Fortas, when Elvis mourned the fact that he hadn't brought along the source of much of his fun on Perugia Way-a two-way mirror, which he used to spy on the guys and their dates in the den. It was small, maybe three feet by two feet, but it fed Elvis's growing interest in voyeurism, and the guys loved it, too, even if the women didn't. Tuesday Weld came over one time and looked through it and called them all a bunch of adolescents.

On Bellagio Road, Sonny got the idea to install a new mirror in the cabana, where female guests changed from their street clothes into their bathing suits. It was huge-the size of a picture window, five by five-but it worked only at the back of the cabana, which meant the guys had to crawl under the house to see anything. The first time girls came over for a swim, Alan was surprised to see Elvis with dirt on his cheeks and a big smear across his forehead.

"I can't believe you crawled under there. h.e.l.l, Elvis, they'll let let you look!" you look!"

Elvis thought about it for a second. "Yeah," he said, "but it's a lot more fun this way."

The Bellagio Road home was the scene of many memorable parties, particularly as Elvis had recently acquired a forty-pound chimpanzee named Scatter, the retired star of a children's TV show in Memphis. He was a perfect party animal, since he naturally gravitated toward women, sticking his head up girls' skirts, unb.u.t.toning their blouses, and hiding behind the bathroom door to scare the wits out of them.

The first time Patti Parry came over after Elvis brought Scatter out to California, he came in the room screeching, with his hands up, every hair standing on end, and Patti thought he was going to attack her. Scatter only wanted to look up her skirt, but when she told him to stop and he didn't, she said, "You do that one more time, and I'm going to knock the h.e.l.l out of you."

"Naturally, he did it again," Billy Smith says, and Patti hit him under the chin, and he did a back flip and landed on the couch, dazed. "He looked at her like he couldn't believe it," in Billy's description. "Scatter had a head like a bowling ball, but she put a dent in it."

Alan and Sonny found his antics hilarious. Sometimes they sent him into a bedroom where a couple was making love, and Scatter would get excited and jump on the guy's back. Elvis thought it was funny, though he was embarra.s.sed when the chimp would m.a.s.t.u.r.b.a.t.e in front of his female guests. ("Believe it or not, we did not teach him to do that," says Marty Lacker.) But it fascinated Elvis, who was becoming more and more interested in all things s.e.xual. Soon he would ask Alan to have soft p.o.r.n films made for him, often of two girls wrestling in white cotton panties. It was a flashback, of sorts, to his childhood turn-on-seeing his two aunts dancing together and waving their skirts up in the air.

Patti says it's important to remember the context of such things. "Listen, you gotta realize," she says. "Nineteen-year-old truck driver overnight becomes superstar and super stud, which he wasn't."

Scatter's days were numbered, especially when he became destructive. He tore up the drapes in hotel rooms, punched a hole in Elvis's 35 mm projection screen, and bit the hired help. One evening, he got out and ruined a neighbor's fancy c.o.c.ktail party, the guests jumping up on the tables and the backs of couches as he roared through the house screaming "Whoo-whoo-whoo!"

Alan usually took care of him, but because he had no one specific master, Scatter simply couldn't be controlled. He eventually brought out the worst in the guys-Lamar hated him, and poked him with a cattle prod, and Elvis whacked him with a pool cue.

Eventually, they took him back to Memphis, where he lived in a cage behind Graceland. Even there, he was a little terror, tearing the wig off a maid named Daisy when she went to feed him. He died not long after, hanging on to the side of the cage, hard as a brickbat, with his long arms out and his legs bowed. Elvis always wondered if Daisy had poisoned him.

Elvis's own treatment of Scatter was indicative of how his behavior continued to change in the wake of his frustration over his film career and his escalating dependency on drugs. In 1962, also on Bellagio Road, his temper began to show more and more with the women who attended his parties. He got so mad at an actress that he picked up a watermelon and hurled it at her like a missile and hit her in the rear. But the more famous incident came with a girl named Judy who Elvis thought failed to mind her manners. change in the wake of his frustration over his film career and his escalating dependency on drugs. In 1962, also on Bellagio Road, his temper began to show more and more with the women who attended his parties. He got so mad at an actress that he picked up a watermelon and hurled it at her like a missile and hit her in the rear. But the more famous incident came with a girl named Judy who Elvis thought failed to mind her manners.

She had tried to get his attention, and when he went downstairs to play pool, she followed him and continued her pursuit. Finally, he had to say, "Look, I'm shooting pool, and I'm going to finish this game before I do anything else." With that, she took the cue ball off the table, and he flushed with anger.

"If you do that again, they'll have to surgically remove it," he heatedly told her.

She stared him down. "You're a smart-a.s.s son of a b.i.t.c.h, aren't you?"

No one called Elvis a son of a b.i.t.c.h-to him it was a slur against Gladys, and he launched the cue stick before he even knew what he had done, hitting the girl in the chest near the collarbone and almost harpooning her. "She fell right over," Joe remembers. Elvis rushed to see about her, though he didn't apologize, and he had one of the guys take her to the doctor. "That was the first time I saw him really, really mad, just unbelievably mad," says Joe. Later, he cried.

In Lamar's view, "Elvis had no parameters. He moved the lines of behavior wherever he wanted them, and if he went too far, he moved them out farther. His discipline was nonexistent. And the more insulated he got, the stranger he got."

In March 1962, Elvis began preproduction on Girls, Girls, Girls, Girls, Girls, Girls, his first picture for Hal Wallis after his first picture for Hal Wallis after Blue Hawaii. Blue Hawaii. Wallis sent him back to Hawaii for location shooting, and again a.s.signed sixty-three-year-old Norman Taurog to direct. Wallis sent him back to Hawaii for location shooting, and again a.s.signed sixty-three-year-old Norman Taurog to direct.

The producer was now certain that Elvis was best showcased as an entertainer specializing in light musical comedies, and not as an actor. To that end, Elvis would begin a long series of movies in which he would play the carefree bachelor with an offbeat occupation. The plot almost always turned on some feeble predicament over which he would triumph, winning the girl in the process.

For Girls, Girls, Girls Girls, Girls, Girls he was cast as a charter boat pilot who moonlights as a lounge singer to buy a sailboat that once belonged to his father. The musical numbers were slighter than those in he was cast as a charter boat pilot who moonlights as a lounge singer to buy a sailboat that once belonged to his father. The musical numbers were slighter than those in Blue Hawaii, Blue Hawaii, and Elvis was humiliated by having to sing to a crustacean ("Song of the Shrimp") and warble about the joys of ocean fishing ("We're Coming in Loaded"). He channeled his discontent through karate, breaking as many as forty boards a day in his hotel suite until Wallis stopped him, fearing the star would injure his hand. and Elvis was humiliated by having to sing to a crustacean ("Song of the Shrimp") and warble about the joys of ocean fishing ("We're Coming in Loaded"). He channeled his discontent through karate, breaking as many as forty boards a day in his hotel suite until Wallis stopped him, fearing the star would injure his hand.

For Elvis, the film's saving grace was the obvious. .h.i.t, "Return to Sender," which soared to number two and stayed on the charts for fourteen weeks, following on the heels of several other huge records, "Can't Help Falling in Love," "Good Luck Charm," and "(Marie's the Name) His Latest Flame."

Yet one more song, "The Walls Have Ears," a dance number with costar Laurel Goodwin, became a private joke with Elvis and the guys. "He dressed in the black trousers made for the scene," Joe wrote in his autobiography, "without putting on underwear. Elvis rarely used underwear."

"Hey, Joe, these pants don't feel right," he told him. "They're rubbing me the wrong way."

"The dance scene was complicated," Joe continued. "The apartment was rigged for special effects, including a coffee table that bounced around the floor and a ceiling that crashed down a few seconds after Elvis and Laurel jumped backward, out of the way and onto a floor model record console. At some point during all the wiggling and jumping, 'Little Elvis,' as he called it, became erect."

Director Taurog didn't notice, and when Elvis came off the set, he walked straight to the nearest chair and sat down.

"Did you see that?" he whispered to Joe. "I couldn't stop the feeling. Geez, I hope they don't have to reshoot this. The ceiling might get me this time."

Of course, Joe told all the guys, who teased Elvis mercilessly.

When he went to the dailies, Elvis nearly leapt from his seat. "Hot d.a.m.n!" he said, "Will you look at that?" There was no mistaking the woody, which was not only obvious, but prominent. Joe tried to quell his fears, saying the studio would probably cut it out in the editing.

"Man, I hope they don't see it and decide to cut it off before we get out of here," Elvis cracked.

But when the film was released, there was "Little Elvis," rising to attention and aimed directly at Laurel Goodwin.

On the whole, says Goodwin, whose character vied against Stella Stevens's for his affection, "Elvis did not like this film. . . . Once he commented to me, 'One thing about working with Wallis is that he spends a lot of money on the production, the accommodations, the catering, because he has me so cheap. With the money he makes on my movies, he then can afford to go off and do Becket. Becket."

Elvis got along well with Laurel, who was Wallis's second choice, replacing Dolores Hart, who had decided to enter the convent. Laurel, who was nineteen years old and making her film debut, found Elvis surprisingly sweet and attentive. He told her that he had lost Gladys four years before, and "truly believed he would one day rejoin his beloved mother." The teen actress spent a lot of time with Elvis and the guys, who "all treated me like protective big brothers."

However, Elvis seemed to clash with Stella Stevens. On the surface, they should have gotten along, as Stella, a year younger than Elvis, was born in Mississippi, grew up in Memphis, went to Memphis State, and had once worked as a model in the tearoom of Goldsmith's department store. But according to Goodwin, she "had to be ordered by Hal Wallis, to whom she was under contract, to do the film."

Stella concurs that she wasn't keen on making an Elvis Presley picture ("I was looking to work with great actors"), and when she read the script, she threw it across the room, calling it "dreck." She was miffed to be cast as the girl Elvis dumps, and as a singer herself, ticked that Marni Nixon dubbed her voice in the nightclub scenes. She never saw the film, she a.s.serts, and never will.

"I was thought of as the bad girl, while Elvis was crazy about little girls in white cotton panties," Stella has said. They never dated, because when Red West called her to see if she wanted to "hang out," she thought Elvis should have called her himself. "They were just a group of boys having fun, but I was a grown woman by then, or life had made me one," says the actress, who married at fifteen, had a child at sixteen, and divorced at seventeen. "I had nothing against Elvis. I thought he was greatly talented."

But the two clashed on his professional standards. "I said, 'Why do you do pictures like this instead of seeking out the best directors in the business?' He said, 'Why knock success?' I wasn't knocking it. I was saying, 'There are no limits to the work you could do, rather than these singin' and a'lovin' and a'fightin' films.' " The longer she talked, though, "the more he disliked me."

In recent years, when a fan approached her for an autograph and asked what it was like working with Elvis, Stevens reportedly said she couldn't stand him, and that when they were alone together, he forced himself on her, and she had to fight him off.

Whether that was true, more and more, the angry Elvis used physical force with women, including Anita.

In early 1962 she was out in California at the Bellagio Road house when Elvis was making Girls, Girls, Girls. Girls, Girls, Girls. She stayed home from the studio one day and went into the library outside Elvis's bedroom and picked out a book. There, pressed inside, she found a letter. "I saw it was from Priscilla." She stayed home from the studio one day and went into the library outside Elvis's bedroom and picked out a book. There, pressed inside, she found a letter. "I saw it was from Priscilla."

She stood reading it, just as Priscilla had read Anita's letters in Germany.

"I remember it said something to the effect of, 'Please call my daddy,' and, 'If you call my daddy, I know he'll let me come over there. I want to come over there soooo bad,' like young girls talk."

It took her breath away. "Elvis had said, 'She's a friend. She means nothing. She's a fan fan.' "

She faced him with it as soon as he got home. "I said, 'What is this letter? Who is this, this Priscilla? You said she was just a child child!' I was just furious, and he was furious, too, because I had found it. Oh, he was so upset! He grabbed me and threw me up against the closet. I said, 'You're telling stories, and everything you said was a lie lie!' I packed my bags and came back home that night to Graceland, to Grandma."

When she walked in the house, the phone was ringing. She didn't want to talk to him, but he kept calling.

"I remember when he got me on the phone, he said, 'Little, please don't tell anybody about this. This girl, again, she's just a child. She's just a fourteen-year-old child child. It means absolutely nothing. She just wants to visit. And if you told anybody, I'd get in a lot of trouble, she's so young.' He just begged me, 'Little, Little, Little.'

"I just couldn't imagine. Coming over to the United States . . . it didn't sound right to me. But I said, 'I won't tell anybody,' and I never did. I never did tell anybody."

By late 1963, on Kissin' Cousins, Kissin' Cousins, Elvis had a myriad of women on his mind, including costars Yvonne Craig Elvis had a myriad of women on his mind, including costars Yvonne Craig (left), (left), who dispensed maternal advice, and Pamela Austin. Craig also appeared in who dispensed maternal advice, and Pamela Austin. Craig also appeared in It Happened at the World's Fair. (Robin Rosaaen Collection) It Happened at the World's Fair. (Robin Rosaaen Collection)