The Boy Who Met Elvis

The whole thing was in her mind. I feigned a demure attitude- "Well, I never really met him. I mean, well, he knew my name and, of course I knew his. We shook hands. We talked. I was a kid. He was the King of Rock'n'Roll."

For some reason, my sweet friend knew me very well. She knew, absolutely, that meeting Elvis Presley made me the person that I am today. Oh, she knew about my family life and she was aware of my background. In fact, we were introduced by another woman who had worked on a documentary about me. I married that one for a short time.

Life's funny.

She rented the finest gear and hired technical wizards. She filmed and probed and cajoled. We laughed and cried. I sang and primped and posed. Visions of awards and accolades danced as she shot and she was more than happy to share them.

Tin Foil Hats

By 1957 I was becoming something of a rock'n'roll snob. I knew that the Sun sides were finer than anything that RCA was gonna be able drag out of Nashville or New York. I was certain in my half-developed mind that western culture had peaked in 1956.

It would be decades before I ever saw video footage of the "real Elvis" from 1954. In relative terms the social phenomena had already begun to morph into an act. The first Elvis impersonator.

Success never enhanced much art.