Baby, Let's Play House Part 33

Sh.e.l.ley Fabares was paired with Elvis for the third time on Clambake, Clambake, shot in spring 1967. "I loved doing those pictures," she said. "They weren't great, but they were great fun." Elvis pursued her without success, yet their deep affection transcended the years. ( shot in spring 1967. "I loved doing those pictures," she said. "They weren't great, but they were great fun." Elvis pursued her without success, yet their deep affection transcended the years. (Robin Rosaaen Collection)

Chapter Twenty-Six.

Hitched!

By early 1967, Elvis owned at least a dozen horses, which meant that he could now play cowboy for real. In 1953, he and Gene Smith had gone to the Mid-South Fair and posed in western hats and holsters for an iconic image of the era, and he'd never gotten over the way it made him feel-tough, brooding, ready to take on the world, even as he felt apart from it. play cowboy for real. In 1953, he and Gene Smith had gone to the Mid-South Fair and posed in western hats and holsters for an iconic image of the era, and he'd never gotten over the way it made him feel-tough, brooding, ready to take on the world, even as he felt apart from it.

Every day he went out in his chaps, boots, Stetson, and rancher coat to check on his growing herd. Lamar called it dressing the part. On the rare occasions when he traveled by air, "he'd put a scarf around his neck and fly the plane. At Graceland, I'd say, 'Alan, where's Elvis?' He'd say, 'He's upstairs. He's in the middle of the bed with his helmet and shoulder pads on, watching Monday Night Football. Monday Night Football.' "

In late 1966 he went on a horse-buying expedition to find a Tennessee Walker for Vernon. On the drive, he happened upon Twinkletown Farm, a 160-acre cattle ranch near Walls, Mississippi, about ten miles south of Whitehaven. It was daybreak, and before him, a white, sixty-five-foot lighted cross stood in the middle of rolling green hills near a rippling lake. Nearby was a small farmhouse.

At first glance, Elvis felt as though he'd had the breath knocked out of him: It was a vision nearly as powerful as seeing Christ in the cloud in the desert. Alan was driving Elvis's double-cab pickup truck, and he had him pull over. The property was for sale, and Elvis took it as a sign that he was meant to have it. He sent Alan to investigate, and almost immediately, Elvis made a $5,000 down payment toward the $437,000 purchase price, which included prize Santa Gertrudis cattle. He would rename the farm the Circle G Ranch, for Graceland, and appoint Alan as foreman to nominally oversee the maintenance and livestock.

The ranch became Elvis's new obsession, and at first, he was like a man reborn. He dove in, making extensive renovations and improvements, putting up a fence, building a barn, grading roads, and installing a gas tank. Then he went shopping for farm equipment, breaking out of his self-seclusion long enough to load up the car with the guys and drive to the Sears store at the Southland Mall. He gathered up hammers and nails and hinges for the pasture gates, and even the display model of a twelve-horsepower lawn tractor, taking everybody for a ride when he got home.

Ray Walker, the tall ba.s.s singer of the Jordanaires, couldn't believe the difference in him. Instead of the apathetic and lethargic Elvis he'd last seen, he now saw a man with a renewed energy for life: "The happiest we ever saw him was when he had that ranch. I think those were the only peaceful, relaxed moments he had in the last ten years of his life. He walked in one day, and we just stood there and stared at him. Finally, he broke into a smile and said, 'Shall we dance?' "

To Elvis, the Circle G Ranch was not just a place to relax but also a breeding ground for communal dreams. He was thirty-two years old now, and he thought the ranch would allow him the chance to replicate a family, to feel complete in a way he never had with the death of his sibling, and then the loss of Gladys. When he was on maneuvers in Germany, he wrote a letter to Patsy Presley and her parents in which he reminisced about the last Christmas Gladys was alive, when they were all together at Graceland. "You couldn't read the letter without crying," Patsy Presley later said. "For Elvis, family was everything."

That was one reason he had just allowed his forty-three-year-old aunt, Delta Mae Biggs, to move into Graceland on the death of her husband, Pat, a riverboat gambler and nightclub owner. Pat had instilled the desire in Elvis to make something of himself, and to own a nice house and car, even though Pat himself could never hold on to money. "Family talk was that Pat and Delta had lived the wild life all across the country in casinos and bars," according to Patsy. "There was a mystique about them, a mysterious past that no one could detail."

Delta, a diabetic alcoholic, had a nasty disposition and hated everybody-she flipped the bird to fans and once set fire to her wig because someone liked it and asked her for it. But she was kin, and Pat had left her flat broke, and she had nowhere else to go. Elvis despised her drinking, but he found her antics amusing, and Minnie Mae also liked the idea of having her daughter live with her. That made Elvis happy, too.

At the Circle G Ranch, Elvis's initial plan was to build a new home for himself and Priscilla near the cross and the big lake. Then he would give each of the guys an acre of land and the down payment to build his own house, since no one in the group except Marty and Lamar had a home of his own. They would all live there together with their wives and families.

The guys were ecstatic about the idea, and Joe and Joanie made plans to move from California. But Vernon, punching numbers on his calculator and holding his head, nixed the idea right off. Instead of standing up to his father and saying he was the one who made the money and would do with it what he liked, Elvis honored Vernon's position as his business manager.

"How are you going to break it to the guys?" Marty asked. "I'm not," Elvis said. "You are."

He felt bad about it, but then he got another idea: If he couldn't give them houses, he'd give them house trailers. He bought the first one for Billy, and then found a three-bedroom model for himself and Priscilla. Pretty soon, there were trailers everywhere, twelve in all, to the tune of $140,000. But everybody needed a truck, too. He bought twenty-two in one day-and three more another day-giving them to anyone he could, even the carpenters and electricians working on the place. He couldn't spend money fast enough.

He loved to see people's faces when he did something like that and found gratification in giving people big-ticket items they couldn't afford themselves. If he had a good feeling or experience from something, he also just wanted to share it. But part of his motivation was swing guilt, a phenomenon of the twinless twin, says psychologist Whitmer, meaning Elvis felt compelled to earn applause to affirm his oneness, his uniqueness. But then he swung back in the opposite direction out of guilt for being the individual who received all the recognition, instead of his twin.

Elvis had always been a generous person, beginning in childhood, when he gave away his toys to other children. And long before he bought the ranch, he was already in the habit of buying cars for friends, family, employees, and even strangers. But once he began walking the spiritual path, says Larry Geller, "He started to get very philanthropic, and he really did give away a lot of money and significant gifts. Buying the ranch was a very large manifestation. It freaked Vernon out."

More than that, it almost literally gave Elvis's father a heart attack. Vernon despised it when he gave away money-he frowned on Elvis's annual Christmas donations-and was preoccupied with the idea of people taking advantage of his son's generosity. After the truck-buying frenzy, he reminded Elvis that the ranch wasn't a working farm, so all the money was going out and none was coming in. "Get a ninety-day note and cover it," Elvis said, nonchalantly.

"He had a couple of months before he had to go do his next picture, which was Clambake, Clambake," Marty recalls, "and he spent almost every day down at the ranch. It was winter. We had a little office by the stable, and one morning about two o'clock we were standing outside there.

"It was snowing, and Elvis was on a small tractor, pushing the snow and mud out of the way. Vernon walked out of the office and came up to me with an adding machine tape in one hand and a flashlight in the other. He was, like, whining. He said, 'Marty, look at this! He's spent $98,000 on trucks and given them away!' I said, 'What do you want me to do about it? He's your son.' "

With his charm and charisma, Elvis had the ability to lead others on a natural high. But he was often on a different kind of high at the Circle G, as he was using barbiturates again to calm himself and tune out his father's rants. He was also getting heavier into Demerol, the synthetic narcotic normally prescribed for severe pain.

Now Elvis wanted it more and more, in late 1966 flying Marty out to see L.A. dentist Max Shapiro, who gave him two prescriptions for Demerol, as well as other pills. Elvis also got pills from the studios, and when he'd run low, there wasn't much he wouldn't do to replenish his supply.

One Sunday when his local Walgreens was closed, he halfheartedly suggested that Marty and Richard break in, and then had another thought: "Does anybody know where the pharmacist lives? He's like a doctor. He's probably got all kinds of stuff at his house."

The man opened his door to find Elvis Presley standing there in a sheepskin coat and a cowboy hat. Stunned, he invited him in. Elvis chatted him up for a few minutes, explained his dilemma, and then followed the pharmacist into his bathroom to look in his medicine chest. By the time he left, Elvis was carrying a bag full of pills and promising to get prescriptions to cover them all.

What he needed, he thought, was a local Dr. Feelgood like Max Shapiro, but he hadn't found him yet. And so he just went on self-prescribing, getting pills wherever he could, sometimes consulting the PDR PDR for dosage and interaction, but more often, throwing caution to the wind. for dosage and interaction, but more often, throwing caution to the wind.

Many times, he'd take two or three sleeping pills on top of his amphetamines, then get up after two hours of sleep and climb on his horse, a gorgeous Palomino he named Rising Sun. At times, Billy remembers, he comically rode around the ranch looking like Lee Marvin in Cat Ballou, Cat Ballou, leaning over so far the guys feared he'd fall off and hurt himself. leaning over so far the guys feared he'd fall off and hurt himself.

The pills gave him strange food cravings, and his latest kick was hamburger and hot dog buns, which he ate straight from the plastic bag, tied onto his saddle horn. The constant diet of white bread threw his insulin levels off and made him store fat around the middle. And though he had the movie to do at the beginning of March-Clambake would be his twenty-fifth-Elvis ate whatever he wanted, from cheeseburgers, to mashed potatoes, to sweets. He seemed to have something in his hand all the time, the guys noticed. would be his twenty-fifth-Elvis ate whatever he wanted, from cheeseburgers, to mashed potatoes, to sweets. He seemed to have something in his hand all the time, the guys noticed.

Normally, in Jerry Schilling's view, "He ate out of depression. The movies were boring to him, and when he didn't have a challenge, he always got depressed." But now the reason was twofold: The ranch felt like perpetual vacation, offering a quasidream state for a boy-man in need of escape. Predictably, the weight piled on.

He was due in Los Angeles on February 21 for the start of the film, but instead, as a stalling technique, he arranged to go to Nashville to record the soundtrack at RCA's Studio B. Though the distance was an easy four-hour drive, he arrived in a rented Learjet-shades of megalomania-and wore his cowboy clothes, replete with chaps, into the recording session. He demonstrated little interest in the movie songs and instead did twenty-one takes of an Eddy Arnold ballad, "You Don't Know Me," putting off recording most of the soundtrack until he got to Hollywood. However, when his second departure date arrived, he balked again, complaining of saddle sores.

Elvis was p.r.o.ne to minor skin infections, as he rarely bathed, taking mostly sponge baths, washing up with a rag and soap and rinsing off. Barbara Little, George Klein's girlfriend, worked for a Memphis physicians' practice called the Medical Group, and she recommended that Dr. George C. Nichopoulos come out to the ranch and examine him.

The forty-year-old Dr. Nick, as everyone called him, was a Pennsylvanian by birth, though he grew up in Anniston, Alabama, where his father, a Greek immigrant, ran a restaurant, Gus' Sanitary Cafe. He'd received his medical degree from Vanderbilt University, but not without an interruption for academic probation. He came to Memphis from Nashville's St. Thomas Hospital and was well liked by the Medical Group employees and patients, Barbara said. "He went above and beyond normal expectations when it came to the doctor-patient relationship."

Dr. Nick's ears perked up the first time he heard that Barbara knew Elvis, and he had asked her several times for an introduction. She and George had invited him along to Elvis's last New Year's Eve party at the Manhattan Club, but Elvis hadn't shown up. Now Dr. Nick was only too glad to drive down to Walls, Mississippi, to see about Elvis's behind.

In time, Dr. Nick would come to love Elvis like a brother, Barbara says. Elvis, who had genuine respect for physicians (he never called Dr. Nick by his first name), would also take a liking to the easygoing, white-haired Greek.

But most of all, Elvis liked what the physician might be able to do for him, since almost no one ever said no to Elvis about anything. Overall, p.r.o.nounces Dr. Nick, "He was healthy then," though the physician agreed to call Colonel Parker to explain just how painful Elvis's ailment was, even as he recognized that a second postponement on the film stemmed more from patient preference than from medical necessity. The Colonel saw right through it, of course, and would forever regard Dr. Nick as an adversary.

In the following days, when Parker couldn't get Elvis on the phone, he'd label Marty Lacker the same, issuing a stern warning to him to keep the lines of communication open. Otherwise, he wrote, "We will have some proper a.s.signment, whether it be you or someone else, where we have a definite immediate contact at all times." Elvis was to appear at United Artists Studios on March 6, or else.

In the interest of time-and because so many in the entourage were now too dependent on pills to safely drive cross-country-Elvis boarded a plane for Los Angeles on March 5. With him were Red, Marty, Billy, Charlie, Larry, Ray Sitton, and Gee Gee Gambill, the husband of Patsy Presley, who Elvis nicknamed "m.u.f.fin." Joe was already in place in California.

On March 6, when Elvis met with director Arthur Nadel and producers Arnold Laven, Arthur Gardner, and Jules Levy, everyone at the studio was shocked to discover that Elvis weighed 200 pounds, up 30 from his usual 170. Parker immediately demanded a conversation with his client, instructing Elvis to do everything he could during rehearsals to get his weight down before princ.i.p.al photography began.

Elvis tried burning the weight off with Dexedrine, but on top of the sleeping tablets, the Demerol, his usual a.r.s.enal of mood-altering drugs, and restricted food intake, the medications made him dizzy.

Sometime late on the night of March 9, Elvis got up to use the toilet on Rocca Place, tripped over the television cord in the bathroom, and hit his head on the sunken tub. He was woozy the next morning, and the guys could tell something was wrong by the way he staggered to his chair and plopped down. "Oh, man," he said, and held the back of his head.

"What's wrong, boss?" Joe asked.

He told them what had happened.

"Feel this," he said, and each of them went over. He had a lump the size of a golf ball.

"Man, I'd better get back into bed. I'm in bad shape here."

"I'm calling the Colonel," Joe announced.

Elvis braced himself for the fat man's tirade, but no one foresaw how the incident would become such a firing pin in detonating Colonel Parker, or how it would lead to an inevitable powder keg of events.

The Colonel arrived at the house and phoned a doctor, who came out with several white-uniformed nurses. He examined the patient and said he would return the following day with portable X-ray equipment. Elvis could barely hold his head up, but the diagnosis would be only a mild concussion, not a fracture. Still, princ.i.p.al photography would have to be delayed by nearly two weeks, and Larry remembers that "a couple of men in suits came from the studio" to take a look.

Parker, fed up with Elvis's undisciplined behavior, seized the moment to tighten control, starting with the entourage: "I want to see all of you out in the hall."

He first approached Larry, whom he saw as his main target. "Mr. Geller," he bellowed, hammering his words home with his cane, "get those books out of here right now! Do you understand me? Right now! Right now!"

Then he turned to the others. He was purple with rage, his voice thundering.

"G.o.dd.a.m.n you guys! Why do you let him get this way? He's going to mess up everything! They'll tear up the contract! I want one of you with Elvis twenty-four hours a day, sitting by his bed in his room. If he has to go to the bathroom, one of you walk with him. Do not let him walk on his own."

He turned on his heel and thudded back in to his client. "Here's the way it is," he told him. "From now on, you're going to listen to everything I say. I'm going to set down these guidelines, and you'd better follow them. Otherwise, I'm going to leave you, and that will ruin your career, and you'll lose Graceland, and you'll lose your fans. And because I'm going to do all this extra work for you, I'm taking 50 percent of your contract."

It was Parker's most outrageous attachment of Elvis's earnings. Officially, his commission had been 25 percent, although the Colonel had long been taking 50 percent of many of Elvis's business deals, and usually more from side agreements, double-dipping, and perks under the table.

Now he prepared a new agreement and backdated it to January 1, 1967. In setting down terms for what he called a joint venture, Parker would continue to collect 25 percent of Elvis's standard movie salaries and record company advances. However, his company, All Star Shows, would now receive 50 percent of profits or royalties beyond basic payments from both the film and record contracts, including "special," or side deals. The commission would be deducted before any division of royalties and profits.

Three days later, when Elvis was feeling better, the Colonel called a meeting at Rocca Place. Priscilla and Vernon had flown out from Memphis, and sat in the living room with Elvis and the guys, already knowing what was about to happen.

Elvis spoke first. "Fellas," he said. "The Colonel has some things to say. And he's speaking for both of us. What he's going to tell you is coming straight from me."

Parker struggled to his feet and then delivered his power play: Number one, from now on, Joe was to be the lone foreman. Number two, there would be no more discussions about religion. "Some of you," the Colonel mocked, looking around the room, "think maybe Elvis is Jesus Christ who should wear robes and walk down the street helping people. But that's not who he is." The guys should not allow Larry to be alone with Elvis, he directed. And number three, due to larger-than-normal expenses, everyone's salary would be cut back. Furthermore, several people had better start looking for jobs.

Everyone looked at Elvis in disbelief. Most of the guys made only $200 a week. How could they keep their apartments on less than that? But Elvis offered no answers, simply staring at the floor. No one had ever seen him so pa.s.sive and defeated, and they wondered why he let Parker get away with it.

In the end, no one was actually fired. But every relationship Elvis had was strained-with the Colonel, with his father, with Priscilla, with the guys. Jerry Schilling, who got married that same week, would soon leave to take an apprenticeship as a film editor. And the following month, on April 30, Larry would also leave voluntarily. "It was like taking my arm off, it was so painful." But he did it rather than cause Elvis more strife with Colonel Parker.

Early in May, Priscilla persuaded Elvis to gather the religious books that the Colonel had banned and dump them in an abandoned well at Graceland. Then he poured gasoline over them and lit a match.

However, five years later, Elvis would intimate to Larry that he had tricked her. They built a bonfire, yes, but "I threw in maybe two or three books . . . there is no way I would have burned all of those. That's what the n.a.z.is did." Larry found out it was true: "He didn't burn the books, because I saw them. All the books that I gave him . . . I'm talking many, many books . . . were still there."

Though nearly everyone would drift in and out of the entourage through the years, Elvis's intimate circle was shrinking. It was the beginning of the end of the group, and it made him feel vulnerable and adrift. He had never quite accepted his stepbrothers, who were still adolescents. Dr. Nick remembers that in conversations with Elvis, "There were many times that he wished that he had a brother or a sister. He wanted to be part of something. Wanted to have a family."

But he did not want to be told when to have it, or with whom.

He had always felt close to Sh.e.l.ley Fabares, who costarred with him for the third time in Clambake. Clambake. They had a mutual respect and an easy understanding that went beyond words: "He was a private person who had no privacy. My experiences working with him were wonderful. I really loved him, and thought he was terrific. We had a fabulous time doing each film, even though some of them were mind-numbingly stupid. Sometimes we'd hear each other say lines, and look at each other and say, 'Is there any possible way to make these sound real?' We laughed from beginning to end." They had a mutual respect and an easy understanding that went beyond words: "He was a private person who had no privacy. My experiences working with him were wonderful. I really loved him, and thought he was terrific. We had a fabulous time doing each film, even though some of them were mind-numbingly stupid. Sometimes we'd hear each other say lines, and look at each other and say, 'Is there any possible way to make these sound real?' We laughed from beginning to end."

Their friendship might have become something more, as she had the pet.i.te physical build that he liked, and she was also an occasional recording star: Her single "Johnny Angel" topped the charts in 1962, only to be ousted by Elvis's "Good Luck Charm." But whenever Elvis played up to her, according to Sonny, Sh.e.l.ley always stalled him.

"He went after her from the first picture. He thought she was adorable. But she said to him, 'I'm dating someone,' and she said it was serious, so he backed off. But that chemistry was still there. So the next picture he went after her again. He said, 'Are you still goin' with that same guy?' She said, 'No, I'm not.' Elvis said, 'Great!' Then she said, 'I'm engaged to him now.' So the final picture: 'Are you still engaged to that guy?' She said, 'No, I married him.' After a while he said, 'You were weakening, weren't you? And you had to get married to stop it, right?' "

In April, rumors swirled about Elvis's own imminent marriage, and while gossip columnist Rona Barrett thought they were true, few others paid any attention. Sonny, working in the film industry at the time, dismissed the rumors out of hand, since no one in the group had mentioned a wedding to him. And Larry did the same. Whenever Elvis and Priscilla decided to marry, he was to share best man duties with Joe and Marty. Surely Elvis would have mentioned it if he were planning a ceremony, Larry thought, even though he had left the group. columnist Rona Barrett thought they were true, few others paid any attention. Sonny, working in the film industry at the time, dismissed the rumors out of hand, since no one in the group had mentioned a wedding to him. And Larry did the same. Whenever Elvis and Priscilla decided to marry, he was to share best man duties with Joe and Marty. Surely Elvis would have mentioned it if he were planning a ceremony, Larry thought, even though he had left the group.

What they didn't know was that Parker, Vernon, and Priscilla had formed a triumvirate, threatening to ruin Elvis if he didn't shape up. That included getting on with the marriage.

Vernon figured if his son settled down, he'd stop the incessant spending at the ranch, and he wouldn't need so many of the guys, whom he considered leeches.

Priscilla thought if Elvis had a ring on his finger, the philandering might stop. She was so starved for his attention that she had faked suicide on Perugia Way with an overdose of Placidyl, the same drug that put her in a coma-like state her first Christmas at Graceland. The dangled promise of marriage was the only reason she stayed, and Elvis had already postponed the nuptials twice.

And Parker, always seeking control, wanted to keep his client an employable commodity. At thirty-two, Elvis was too old to live in such a crazy, free-spirited manner, and eventually the studios would hear about it. Parker would always disavow personal knowledge of Elvis's drug use, but he did know that Elvis's recklessness had to stop.

Furthermore, if Elvis were to marry, it would reinforce his Hollywood image as a pure purveyor of family entertainment. ("He's a clean-cut, clean-living man," director Sam Katzman had described him.) In spring 1967 the nation was undergoing a radical social shift, divided over the Vietnam War and awash in all things counterculture, hippie (the Summer of Love was right around the corner), and psychedelic. Parker was intent on offering Elvis as a noncontroversial alternative to the fray and insisted that his placid persona remain intact.

And so the three of them-Colonel, Vernon, and Priscilla-went to work, sharing their secret only with immediate family.

At 9:41 on the morning of May 1, 1967, Elvis and Priscilla said "I do" before Nevada Supreme Court Judge David Zenoff in Milton Prell's private suite at the new Aladdin Hotel in Las Vegas. The justice would remember that Priscilla "was absolutely petrified, and Elvis was so nervous he was almost bawling."

Afterward, the newlyweds held a press conference in the Aladdin Room, where Priscilla's stepfather told the press, "Our little girl is going to be a good wife," and Elvis turned to his father for answers to questions he didn't like. "Hey, Daddy, help me!" he said good-naturedly. But Vernon only smiled. "I can't reach you, son," he said. "You just slipped through my fingers." Owner Prell laid out a $10,000 champagne breakfast with suckling pig and poached salmon, and then the couple flew to Palm Springs on Frank Sinatra's Learjet to begin their honeymoon.

The Colonel arranged every detail, from the room to the rings, calling on his high-powered friends and connections. Elvis and Priscilla went along with it for the sake of expediency and secrecy, though later Priscilla would write "as we raced through the day, we both thought that if we had it to do over again, we would have given ourselves more time . . . I wish I'd had the strength then to say, 'Wait a minute, this is our our wedding, fans or no fans, press or no press. Let us invite whomever we want.' " wedding, fans or no fans, press or no press. Let us invite whomever we want.' "

But Priscilla and Elvis had also allowed the Colonel to pick the attendants and the guests, who numbered fewer than twenty. The suite couldn't accommodate any more, they said. So while there was room for George Klein, who flew in from Memphis, there was not enough s.p.a.ce for Red, or Jerry, or Alan, or Richard. Charlie knew about it-he drove the Colonel from Palm Springs-but there wasn't room for him, either. Some of the guys were invited to the breakfast, but others had to save their congratulations for a second reception to be held at the end of the month at Graceland, where Elvis and Priscilla would wear their wedding finery once again.

Larry learned about it when he picked up the afternoon paper. Sonny was similarly informed. "I was making a motorcycle movie, and I was on location. I came back to my room, turned the TV on, and the guy said, 'Elvis Presley got married today . . .' And I went, 'What?!' 'What?!' I thought, 'Dad gum, that was fast.' " I thought, 'Dad gum, that was fast.' "

Hurt feelings ran rampant, and Red, who would remain estranged from Elvis for two years over the exclusion, had a h.e.l.lacious fight with the Colonel. Charlie later defended the way Parker handled things, saying he was "just doing what he always tried to do with Elvis, and that was keeping something like that from becoming a circus." But in retrospect, says Joe, "We should have used another arena so that everybody could have been there."

The Memphis paper ran the headline "Wedding is Typically Elvis-Quick, Quiet, and in Style," and fan reaction was mixed. There was no national hue and cry as there would be with Paul McCartney's marriage two years later, as the new youth of America considered Elvis rather hokey, a has-been. And fans of Kay Wheeler's ilk had largely moved on, Kay herself saying, "Well, somebody finally caught him. I guess Elvis's career is so down already that it doesn't matter anymore." In Europe, the girls seemed to take it harder.

On May 4 the married couple flew home from Palm Springs, arriving in Memphis around 6 A.M. A.M. After a quick stop at Graceland, they went on to the Circle G to continue their honeymoon. It was there, in one of the trailers, that Priscilla conceived a child, a girl, to be named Lisa Marie, so near the name Elvis and Anita had picked out years before. The baby would be born February 1, exactly nine months after the wedding. It was at the Circle G that Priscilla and Elvis had s.e.x for the first time, they would say. Marrying at a place called the Aladdin was not the only fairy-tale element of the Elvis and Priscilla saga. After a quick stop at Graceland, they went on to the Circle G to continue their honeymoon. It was there, in one of the trailers, that Priscilla conceived a child, a girl, to be named Lisa Marie, so near the name Elvis and Anita had picked out years before. The baby would be born February 1, exactly nine months after the wedding. It was at the Circle G that Priscilla and Elvis had s.e.x for the first time, they would say. Marrying at a place called the Aladdin was not the only fairy-tale element of the Elvis and Priscilla saga.

Just because Elvis now wore a wedding band did not mean that either his feelings or his behavior would change. On May 8, one week after he and Priscilla tied the knot, Ann-Margret married Roger Smith, also in Las Vegas. When she opened an engagement there on June 7, Elvis sent flowers in the shape of a guitar. He would do so for each of her Vegas bookings until his death. his behavior would change. On May 8, one week after he and Priscilla tied the knot, Ann-Margret married Roger Smith, also in Las Vegas. When she opened an engagement there on June 7, Elvis sent flowers in the shape of a guitar. He would do so for each of her Vegas bookings until his death.

Already Elvis knew his marriage had been a mistake-that he and Priscilla had never truly been compatible, and that they had tragically outgrown their dreams. He had fallen for a fourteen-year-old girl, and she, as an eleven-year-old, for the flickering image of a bad boy, dancing suggestively on TV. Neither of them was the same person now. They had married ghosts.

On July 1, two months after his wedding, Elvis went to see Ann-Margret's show, bringing along his father and several of the guys. They visited her in her dressing room afterward. At one point, Ann-Margret slipped off to the innermost room of her dressing area. Elvis followed and shut the door.

"Our eyes met and suddenly the old connection burned as brightly and strong as it had years before," she wrote. He complimented her on her show and then turned wistful, thanking her for all the happiness she had given him, and recounting the good times they had shared.

"Elvis then stepped forward and dropped to one knee. He took my hands in his. I felt the heat in both of our bodies. In a soft, gentle voice weighted by seriousness, he told me exactly how he still felt about me, which I intuitively knew, but was very touched to hear."

But as usual, Elvis had not one but three women on his mind. He was making a movie, Speedway, Speedway, with Nancy Sinatra at MGM, and Priscilla had just learned that she was pregnant. Elvis was thrilled and announced it on the set on July 12. "This is the greatest thing that has ever happened to me," he gushed to reporters. with Nancy Sinatra at MGM, and Priscilla had just learned that she was pregnant. Elvis was thrilled and announced it on the set on July 12. "This is the greatest thing that has ever happened to me," he gushed to reporters.

And at home, he affectionately called Priscilla "Belly."

"Look who's talking!" she wanted to say, though Elvis had dieted himself thin again. Still, Priscilla was stung by it, especially as she never even needed a maternity dress.

"Elvis was always talking about women who let themselves go when they were expecting, who used it as an excuse to gain weight. So I actually lost lost eight pounds when I was carrying. I ate only eggs and apples. I never drank milk." She never saw a doctor, either. She never saw anybody new, because Elvis wanted only his same friends around. It was life in a bubble. "We were in a coc.o.o.n." eight pounds when I was carrying. I ate only eggs and apples. I never drank milk." She never saw a doctor, either. She never saw anybody new, because Elvis wanted only his same friends around. It was life in a bubble. "We were in a coc.o.o.n."

At Elvis's nudging, Nancy offered to throw a baby shower for the new mother. But behind the scenes, she was busy fighting off Elvis's advances. She had fantasized about him for years, even before she met him on the day he returned from Germany in 1960. Now that she was divorced from Tommy Sands, it was easier to think about being involved with him. But she refused to have s.e.x with a married man, even as she indulged his adolescent games, so reminiscent of the roughhousing he did with his slumber party teens on Audubon Drive.

At lunchtime, they'd go back to her dressing room trailer. Elvis would mess up her hair and her clothes, teasing her, and when he got especially frisky, he'd pin her to the floor and dry hump her. They'd laugh and giggle and toss back and forth in the mock throes of ecstasy. "Did you come yet?" he'd ask, a big smile on his face. But there was no mistaking that Elvis was truly turned on. "Do you feel Little Elvis?" he'd whisper in her ear. And, of course, she did.

When they walked out of the trailer for the afternoon's shoot, people stared at them and whispered behind their backs. Priscilla was well aware of it-she had worried that something was between them as far back as 1960-and somehow they took a bit of perverse pleasure from it. Nancy asked her one day how she kept her figure with the baby and learned that Priscilla ate only one meal. "Good for you," Nancy praised, but what she was really thinking was, "She's got her hands full trying to hold on to this man."

The flirting, then, had to stop. Near the end of the picture, Nancy was in her trailer alone. Wearing only jeans and a bra.s.siere, she went to her closet to pick out a shirt. She had just removed her bra when Elvis popped out of the closet. It was an awkward moment-she tried to cover herself, and then she laughed. Elvis pulled her to him.

"He just got very quiet. He just held me . . . and he lifted up my face and he kissed me, and I started to melt. I really thought I was going to die. Then he pulled away and looked at me and said, 'I'm sorry . . . I'm sorry.' And he went out."