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even Elvis could avoid the draft

In document Legends Elvis Presley (Page 63-67)

BY ADRIAN THRILLS

hen Elvis Presley came out of the US Army in March 1960, his fi rst public appearance was not an orgasmic, hip-swivelling rock’n’roll shindig.

It was a television show in which he starred alongside Frank Sinatra, the consummate all-round American entertainer.

Sinatra had been no great lover of rock’n’roll in the ’50s. But he was a Hollywood icon and the master of many musical styles. As a statement of intent Frank Sinatra’s Welcome Home Party For Elvis Presley was a surefi re indication of how Presley saw his career developing.

Elvis was back and Elvis was big, but he was no longer a one-trick pompadour. Presley – who wore army uniform for the start of the Miami-fi lmed show before changing into a tuxedo for a duet with Ol’ Blue Eyes himself – had hinted at his long-term plans in interviews given before the TV spectacular, which aired to huge ratings in May 1960.

“I’d like to develop my acting to some extent,”

he had said. “You know, like Sinatra did when he suddenly came up with From Here To Eternity.

I certainly couldn’t model myself on Frank, but I admire him very much and that’s the sort of thing I’d like to do.

“He was just a singer when he decided to branch out into acting. Now look at him. He’s one of the highest paid people in the profession. Anyone can sing and strum a guitar – I’d like

to prove that I can do more than that.”

Prove that he could do “more than that” was precisely what Presley did in the next two years.

There is a tendency among critics to malign his post-army output. John Lennon famously claimed that “Elvis died when he went into the army” and there was some resistance from old fans to the changes of the early ’60s. But while the new, sideburn-less Elvis simmered rather than scalded, the musical strides he was making were not those of a performer who was losing his edge.

In 1960, at the age of 25, Elvis was ready to extend his capabilities. Guided by his manager, Colonel Tom Parker, he certainly spent more time in Hollywood. But he also broadened his horizons on a musical level. He made some great singles and, in 1960 alone, two of his most

complete albums. Then, after fi rst reiterating his rock’n’roll credentials, he graduated to mellower, medium-paced songs and some of the most memorable ballads of his career.

His music was evolving, but Elvis still retained his old hunger. At a time when rock was still regarded as a passing fad – an era when the rulebook hadn’t yet been written – the post-army Elvis became a pioneering fi gure. The best musicians and singers have always pushed the



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At the Draft Board with tearful mother, Gladys (right)

Swearing in at Memphis Draft Board office, March 24, 1958

GETTY, ©ELVIS PRESLEY ENTERPRISES INC.

boundaries. The Beatles did so with Sgt Pepper, The Clash with London Calling and Radiohead with OK Computer. For Elvis, the risk taking came in the early ’60s. Having been the pivotal fi gure in the rise of rock’n’roll, he went on to defi ne pop.

All this, too, was achieved against a backdrop of mounting uncertainty. In the early ’60s, The King faced constant speculation that his crown was slipping. The reality, as we will fi nd out, was different. Not only did Elvis’ change of style increase his stature – it ultimately turned him into pop’s fi rst global superstar.

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lvis Presley received his call-up papers in December 1957. At the instigation of Colonel Parker, he was immediately given a 60-day deferment to allow him to fi nish fi lming King

Creole. It would not be the last time that aspects of his stint with the forces were micro-managed by Parker. Before Elvis was drafted, there was speculation that he would be given dispensation to join the Special Services Division as an entertainer.

And while this never happened, the reasons had more to do with Parker’s timely intervention than they did with the Republican Senator who

demanded that the ruler of rock’n’roll be treated the same as any other conscript.

Presley’s manager did not want his artist becoming a commodity for the American forces. He was also keen to protect Elvis from any criticism which might have ensued had he been given preferential treatment. And so it was that Elvis presented himself at the draft board offi ce in Memphis on March 24, 1958.

After being seen off by his parents, Vernon and Gladys, his then girlfriend Anita Wood and a small gathering of fans, Elvis became private US 53310761 and his pay was cut from

$1,000 a week to $83.20 per month.

The following day, as he paid 65 cents for his army regulation haircut, the “onionpeel”, the event was again overseen by Colonel Tom.

Presley’s manager had a reputation for paying attention to every small detail.

At one RCA press reception, he had busied himself by placing a picture of his client on every table. And, when Elvis was having his pompadour and sideburns shorn, Parker was on hand to make sure that nobody retrieved a sought-after lock of hair from the fl oor. With one businessman

having already offered to pay for Presley’s hair to sell on to fans at a vast profi t, a soldier was detailed to sweep any stray tresses into a bin for immediate burning.

Elvis’ initial posting was to Fort Chaffee, in Texas. He then received 22 weeks of basic combat training at nearby Fort Hood. When female fans gathered outside to watch him scrub garbage cans, however, he was kept out of sight by his army minders, and his diligent attitude soon earned the respect of fellow soldiers, a few of whom had taunted him when he fi rst donned the uniform of the 2nd Armoured Division.



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Elvis’ ceremonial shearing at Fort Chaffee on March 25, 1958

Elvis undergoes his medical in Memphis on March 24, 1958



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But the rock’n’roll fl ame still burned within him, and Presley wasted no time in hot-footing it back to Nashville to record “I Got Stung”, “I Need Your Love” and “(Now And Then There’s) A Fool Such As I” in an all-night session while on leave in June 1958. But, while those three songs were added to the stockpile of unreleased material, this would be Elvis’ last studio session for almost two years.

However, before he was posted overseas, Elvis had to face the greatest personal tragedy of his life when his mother, who had been ill with hepatitis, died from a heart attack. Elvis, granted compassionate leave, had arrived back in Memphis the day before 46-year-old Gladys passed away on August 14, 1958, but the blow still hit him hard. As a sensitive youngster, he had always looked to his mother for guidance. She helped him to buy his fi rst guitar and encouraged him to persevere with the instrument. And it was with her in mind, after all, that he had fi rst gone to Sam Phillips’ studio to record “My Happiness” as a Mother’s Day gift.

In the years that followed, Elvis would often refl ect on Gladys Presley’s legacy. “Everyone loves their mother,” he told NME in 1960. “But I was an only child and mother will always be with me.

Losing her was like losing a friend, a companion.

I could wake her up any hour of the night if I was worried or troubled about something.”

Shortly after his mother’s cremation, Elvis was posted to Germany, sailing to Bremerhaven before being assigned to the 3rd Armoured Division in Friedberg. Although GIs weren’t usually allowed to stay with family members, Elvis was granted permission to live off-base with his father and his grandmother, Minnie Mae Presley, in Bad Nauheim, a few miles from the Friedberg barracks. His house, unsurprisingly, was soon a focus for local German schoolgirls.

And while Presley would usually depart at 7am to avoid the fans who gathered every day, he was happy to hold impromptu signing sessions outside the building three afternoons a week.

Elvis made no live appearances during his time with the army. He did, however, make use of his periods of offi cial leave to sample some of

the rock’n’roll delights on offer on his one and only visit to Europe. He went to see

Bill Haley play in Frankfurt and Stuttgart and also travelled to Paris with some army buddies in June 1959 and January 1960.

In the French capital, he frequented the jazz clubs of St Germain and visited such nightspots as the Lido, the Folies Bergère and, an American bar, the Crazy Horse Saloon. He also dated 17-year-old Margrit

Buergin from Frankfurt, spent time with the German movie star Vera Tschechowa,

and met 14-year-old Priscilla Beaulieu, an American serviceman’s daughter who would ultimately become his wife.

Back home, Colonel Tom and RCA were making hay with the stockpile of unreleased material that Presley had left behind. With skilful marketing, Elvis’s agents made it seem as if The King hadn’t

really gone away, and his hits in absentia included

“Hard Headed Woman”, “One Night” and “(Now And Then There’s) A Fool Such As I”.

“One Night” was a particularly gripping example of Elvis’ original menace and style.

A highly suggestive song about sleeping with a prostitute, it had originally been recorded by R&B singer Smiley Lewis as “One Night Of Sin”.

Elvis made two versions of the track, one with its original lyric and a cleaned-up “one night with you”. But while it was the amended version that was issued as a single, Elvis’ halting, dirty tone left little doubt as to what was on his mind as he slid lasciviously through the number.

Elvis’ popularity was also maintained by the release, in June 1958, of King Creole. Adapted from Harold Robbins’ A Stone For Danny Fisher, the fi lm portrayed Elvis as a struggling New

Recording at RCA Studios, Nashville while on leave, June 1958

Boarding the USS General Randall, en route to Germany

One of the last family portraits before Gladys’

untimely death



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Orleans singer and is regarded as one of his better movies. The critical reaction at the time, refl ected in a strong box offi ce performance, was positive. “Elvis Presley can act” bellowed The New York Times.

But, by the beginning of 1960, neither RCA or the Hollywood studios had any more Elvis material left in their vaults. Attention began to turn to the singer’s imminent discharge, with speculation mounting as to how army life might have changed him. In his absence, new artists had emerged. Frankie Avalon, Paul Anka, Rick Nelson and Bobby Darin had all become stars while Fabian, a young Presley imitator from Philadelphia, had sold four million singles.

In NME, under the memorable headline “Will the army leave Elvis gloomy or gay?”, Derek Johnson argued that the singer’s sense of insecurity was one of the things that made him special – and thus hugely successful. If he left the armed forces as a happier and more confi dent individual, his unique appeal might become diluted. From his own observations, it is clear that Presley himself had concerns about how he would be regarded on his return to civvy street. “I don’t know if I’ll get back on top again,” he told NME’s Johnson in March 1960. “I only wish I knew. I’m completely away from showbusiness. I only have newspaper clippings to keep me up to date. That’s where NME comes in useful. I get it regularly and I hear that trends have changed, so it might be pretty diffi cult for me. But I’ll tell you this – I’m sure going to try hard. My attitude to rock’n’roll hasn’t changed. I think it would be a mistake for me to try and change my style. The public will let me know if they don’t like it.”

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lvis’ discharge from the army was something of a media event, with a farewell press conference in Friedberg and another on the singer’s return to home soil. After two years in the armed forces, Private Presley had been promoted to the rank of sergeant, but any suggestions that he would remain a soldier were rebuffed. When he boarded a military transport plane to travel back to the States via Prestwick in Scotland – the only

time he ever set foot in Britain – Elvis was fl ying back to resume a career in entertainment.

Within weeks of his return, he had fi lmed his television special with Frank Sinatra and paid his fi rst visit in two years to RCA’s Studio B in Nashville. The need for a new single was pressing and Presley’s fi rst stereo recording, “Stuck On You”, did the trick. The record, in the shops within weeks of the session, was largely well received.

Under the banner “Elvis starts waxing again”, NME’s ubiquitous Johnson praised the return of The King: “Elvis has lost none of his fi re, drive and inherent rhythm. The song is a medium-paced

hunk of solid rock handled in the mean and moody manner which has become his trademark.”

Others were not so sure. “Stuck On You” reached Number One in Britain and America, but its UK sales fell away after just one week, prompting NME to speculate that Elvis might be

losing his touch. But if some saw the singer’s inability to move on from his pre-army records as a weakness (“Stuck On You” was judged to be too similar to “All Shook Up”), Elvis was not about to revamp his style.

Not yet anyway.

n 1957, Frank Sinatra dismissed Elvis and the new breed of rock’n’rollers as “cretinous goons”

– words which he’d come to choke on three years later when on March 26, 1960, he hosted the Welcome Home Party For Elvis Presley TV special.

The highlight was Elvis curling his lip at Frank’s

“Witchcraft” while Sinatra gurned his way through

“Love Me Tender”. If it was a musical heavyweight contest, the result was a resounding KO to Elvis.

Their rivalry was exacerbated by Elvis’ next movie, GI Blues. Given the singer’s reputation with leading ladies,

Frank was less than chuffed that his current girlfriend, Juliet Prowse, was Presley’s co-star.

Sure enough, before long Elvis was boasting to his Memphis Mafia that Prowse

“likes to grab her ankles and spread her legs real wide”. Ironically,

the day Sinatra paid an impromptu visit to the set, he caught them playing cards.

Though in private Frank would continue to refer to Presley as “Clyde” (Rat Pack slang for “loser”), over the years their mutual animosity eventually

softened. Sinatra not only lent Elvis his private jet for his wedding, he also offered to “rub out” Red and Sonny West, the bodyguards who wrote a scandalous biography in 1976.

“Did my Dad hate Elvis? Of course not,” says Nancy Sinatra, who herself sparked rumours of off-camera shenanigans when co-starring with Elvis in 1968’s Speedway. “They really hit it off,” she insists. “I can still picture the two of them laughing and carrying on in Vegas. They were pals.” SIMON GODDARD

In document Legends Elvis Presley (Page 63-67)