Forever Young, Always Beautiful (E.P)

Chapter 2 - The Big Time: The Memphis Stage

We sat with bated breath, Elvis’ hand wrapped tightly around mine. It was July 7th, 1954 and Elvis’ debut single was about to be played for the first time on two local radio stations. He’d driven frantically down the street to my house two hours before, sounding his car horn until I came outside. Running outside in my ‘scruffs’ – an old pair of trousers and a baggy shirt – Elvis lowered the window and grabbed my hands. “They’re gonna play my song, Annie. In just over two hours, my voice is gonna be in every house in Memphis.” Although I was excited for him, I knew better than to let it show. He was nervous, and I had to keep him calm. Looking down at my bare feet, I told him I’d be back in a minute. I rushed back inside, grabbing a pair of flat shoes, my bag and camera. “I’m going out. I’ll see you later.” I called to my parents, running out of the house before they could protest. Climbing into the car, telling Elvis not to bother opening the door for me, I told him to take us somewhere he’d be calm. We eventually ended up at the local movie theatre, where we stayed for the next 3 hours. We watched two movies, and eventually it was time to face the world again. “What if they didn’t like it, Ann?” He asked, his hand still in mine. I smiled, squeezing his hand. “We’ll soon see. Give me the keys; I’m driving.” Elvis looked down at me in horror but handed the keys over anyway.

I parked outside the building of WHBQ, noting Elvis’ nervous body language; he knew exactly where we were. “I’ll go in, okay? I’ll go in and ask.” I told him. He nodded, staying silent. I sighed and gave his cheek a small kiss. He looked at me in surprise; I was never one to give kisses. “Don’t look so pleased, El. You won’t be getting many more.” “So that means they’ll be more?” Elvis asked, his usual self slowly coming back. “Shut up.” I said, getting out of the car and running into the building. I remerged a few minutes later, the pride attempting to burst out of me. Elvis looked up at me, concerned and confused, as I opened the car door and held out my hand for him. “What? Annie, what?” He asked. “I just met Dewey Phillips in the reception area.” I told him, locking the car and taking his hand. “And?” Elvis asked. “He wants to meet you. He wants to interview you… now. Elvis… the record was a hit!” Elvis’ fears melted away, if only for a few short minutes – he was terrified when he realised that he had to do an interview – and he picked me up and spun me round.

The next few months were a blur. Elvis travelled all over, preforming to a variety of different audiences. He became the biggest artist in the South. He welcomed the new age to us; the age of rebellion, the age of the teenager. The South, always the most conservative part of the country, was suddenly full of screaming teenage girls who wanted to bed him and boys who just wanted to be him. Parents hate the way he moved on stage, calling it ‘vulgar’ and ‘overly sexual’. His friends and family back in Memphis – myself included – laughed at the comments; we knew that was just the way he moved. When he was at home, he was exhausted, and I spent many nights with him just sitting around. We would sit in his bedroom, surrounded by the records we shared a love for. He would sing along and I would take his photo. During those nights, he’d tell me how lonely it was on the road. He had his parents with him most of the time, but he had no friends. “I miss you, Annie. I wish you’d come with us.” He’d say, though he knew it couldn’t happen. My parents, although pleased for Elvis about his success, didn’t want me to have anything to do with it. “He’s famous now. Soon he’ll move away and forget about you. Forget about us all. You might as well start cutting the ties now, my girl.” My Mother told me one night, after I’d suggested I travel to Louisiana with Elvis for one of his shows. I stormed out of the house, angry and upset, and spent the rest of the night at Elvis’ house. He wasn’t there, so his parents allowed me stay, sleeping in Elvis’ bed in his absence. The next morning, I woke up to find Elvis by my side, his arm wrapped tightly around my waist. When we were both fully awake, I told him what my Mother had said. “I’ll never forget about you. You and me, we’ll always be together.” He said. “Promise?” I asked, tears now running down my cheeks. “I promise.” He replied. It was the one promise, out of all the ones he ever made me over the years, which he actually kept.