Elvis and Ginger: Elvis Presley's Fiancée and Last Love Finally Tells Her Story by Ginger Alden
Authors: Ginger Alden
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introduce myself, then tried to join the conversations. Charlie Hodge weaved in and out of the main room with a cocktail, telling jokes. Dean shouted, “I’m the king!” after making a good move in backgammon, a game I had never heard of before.
There were a few other women on the plane as well. Some of them wore gold necklaces with the letters
TLC
, similar to the TCB necklaces a lot of the men had. Soon I would learn that
TLC
stood for
tender loving care
. These necklaces were gifts from Elvis, given to his family, friends, and a few select others.
I had introduced myself to a couple of people, trying to make headway, when someone approached to say Elvis was asking for me to return to his room. I did so, hoping that at least I’d made the first step in trying to get to know the insular group surrounding Elvis.
CHAPTER 6
After landing in Las Vegas, we climbed into a waiting limousine and were escorted by police to the Hilton International Hotel. As we passed by a large, glitzy marquee displaying Elvis’s name, I mused on the fact that I’d never been to Las Vegas before in my life, and now I’d been here twice in a short time.
Once again, we entered the hotel through the back door, but this time rode the elevator to the thirtieth floor. I followed Elvis down a hallway toward a security guard sitting in a chair beside some double doors. One of the doors was opened; we walked through it and down a few steps into the living room of a penthouse.
It was a sumptuous suite decorated with gold carpeting and drapes. Black pillows accented the gold sofa and chairs furnishing the living room. There was a dining room and kitchen, too.
I’m sure I must have looked as awed as I felt, as I gaped at our new surroundings, because Elvis was watching my reaction and smiling. From the main part of the enormous suite, he walked me down a short hallway and into a master bedroom. There were his and her bathrooms, a sitting area, and a king-size bed on a raised platform. The mirrored ceiling above the bed reflected our movements.
An aide entered the bedroom, opened a suitcase containing books, and laid a few on the floor beside the bed. Another aide placed a water container on the night table, along with a box of Roi Tan cigars, the brand Elvis had occasionally smoked in front of me. The aide also left a schedule on the nightstand listing which employees were on duty and at what time, along with their room numbers. By now I had observed that the aides seemed to have various assignments. Some helped with wardrobe, while others served as extra hands during concerts or brought food and packets of medication to Elvis.
Once they’d made sure everything was to Elvis’s liking, the aides evaporated. No sooner had they left when Elvis pressed a button by the bed. The drapes against one wall slowly began to open, revealing windows and a spectacular view of Las Vegas spread below our penthouse.
Elvis gave me a tour of the other rooms connected to the suite and mentioned that his father was coming and would be staying in one. I wondered which bedroom would be mine, after noticing Joe Esposito in one of them.
Telling me that his dad, Vernon, had suffered a heart attack the year before, Elvis said he was glad Vernon was able to come to his shows again. We returned to the living room and Elvis walked over to a record player. The song he chose to play was Charles Boyer singing “Once Upon a Time.”
As the song echoed throughout the suite, Elvis closed his eyes and began to speak the lyrics, Boyer-style. He continued to do the same with the song, “Softly I Must Leave You.” The words were beautiful and I sat, enchanted, as Elvis delivered them with great passion.
When the album ended, Elvis told me that “Softly I Must Leave You” was written by a man in a hospital who began to feel like he was dying after his wife lay beside him and fell asleep. Not wanting to wake her, the man wrote the words to the song in a letter to his wife. I
There were a few other women on the plane as well. Some of them wore gold necklaces with the letters
TLC
, similar to the TCB necklaces a lot of the men had. Soon I would learn that
TLC
stood for
tender loving care
. These necklaces were gifts from Elvis, given to his family, friends, and a few select others.
I had introduced myself to a couple of people, trying to make headway, when someone approached to say Elvis was asking for me to return to his room. I did so, hoping that at least I’d made the first step in trying to get to know the insular group surrounding Elvis.
CHAPTER 6
After landing in Las Vegas, we climbed into a waiting limousine and were escorted by police to the Hilton International Hotel. As we passed by a large, glitzy marquee displaying Elvis’s name, I mused on the fact that I’d never been to Las Vegas before in my life, and now I’d been here twice in a short time.
Once again, we entered the hotel through the back door, but this time rode the elevator to the thirtieth floor. I followed Elvis down a hallway toward a security guard sitting in a chair beside some double doors. One of the doors was opened; we walked through it and down a few steps into the living room of a penthouse.
It was a sumptuous suite decorated with gold carpeting and drapes. Black pillows accented the gold sofa and chairs furnishing the living room. There was a dining room and kitchen, too.
I’m sure I must have looked as awed as I felt, as I gaped at our new surroundings, because Elvis was watching my reaction and smiling. From the main part of the enormous suite, he walked me down a short hallway and into a master bedroom. There were his and her bathrooms, a sitting area, and a king-size bed on a raised platform. The mirrored ceiling above the bed reflected our movements.
An aide entered the bedroom, opened a suitcase containing books, and laid a few on the floor beside the bed. Another aide placed a water container on the night table, along with a box of Roi Tan cigars, the brand Elvis had occasionally smoked in front of me. The aide also left a schedule on the nightstand listing which employees were on duty and at what time, along with their room numbers. By now I had observed that the aides seemed to have various assignments. Some helped with wardrobe, while others served as extra hands during concerts or brought food and packets of medication to Elvis.
Once they’d made sure everything was to Elvis’s liking, the aides evaporated. No sooner had they left when Elvis pressed a button by the bed. The drapes against one wall slowly began to open, revealing windows and a spectacular view of Las Vegas spread below our penthouse.
Elvis gave me a tour of the other rooms connected to the suite and mentioned that his father was coming and would be staying in one. I wondered which bedroom would be mine, after noticing Joe Esposito in one of them.
Telling me that his dad, Vernon, had suffered a heart attack the year before, Elvis said he was glad Vernon was able to come to his shows again. We returned to the living room and Elvis walked over to a record player. The song he chose to play was Charles Boyer singing “Once Upon a Time.”
As the song echoed throughout the suite, Elvis closed his eyes and began to speak the lyrics, Boyer-style. He continued to do the same with the song, “Softly I Must Leave You.” The words were beautiful and I sat, enchanted, as Elvis delivered them with great passion.
When the album ended, Elvis told me that “Softly I Must Leave You” was written by a man in a hospital who began to feel like he was dying after his wife lay beside him and fell asleep. Not wanting to wake her, the man wrote the words to the song in a letter to his wife. I
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