A Christmas Gift from Carol
© Caroline Cahoon Hauser 2003
HOW 'BOUT A DATE?
by
Caroline Hauser
He was almost twenty-one and I was seventeen when
Elvis Presley came to my hometown in November, 1955. He had just
begun his rocket-rise to fame and was well on his way to becoming
"The King." For a time we were friends, dated and had fun
together before we went our separate ways.
When Elvis and I met, he seemed self-assured, confident, and full of
southern charm. He noticed me in the audience while he was
performing on stage at a concert. After the show he sent a note to
me asking for a date. I cautiously and curiously accepted. I
was flattered, fascinated, infatuated and scared to death. He was
three and a half years older, and very controversial. It also ran
through my mind, however quickly, that going out with Elvis might tarnish
my good reputation. After some hesitation, and much insistence and
moral support from my friends, I left with him after the show that night.
He proved to be nothing like what I had feared him to be. He was
polite, considerate, very funny and he wasn't a sex fiend.
Looking back on my experiences with Elvis, I feel fortunate to have known
the real Elvis, before he became another victim of
"super-stardom". He was an extremely nice person then.
I believed him when he told me that he felt he was "a fluke",
that he happened to be in the right place, at the right time in the
universe, and that the world just happened to be ready for someone like
him.
I thought about him often, during the years after
his mother, Gladys, died in August, 1958 when I began to read about how he
was changing. He seemed deeply troubled, nothing like the Elvis I
had known and loved. I wondered if I could have been the one who
could have helped him if I tried. I'm sure others in his life felt
this way, but no one succeeded, and is doubtful that anyone could have.
Unfortunately, Elvis wasn't equipped to cope with
what fate dealt him. I believe he got in a trap, caused by his
inability to handle the pressures that fame brought, and slowly he was
destroyed by the very thing that created him.
This is a story of the Elvis I knew in 1955-56.
"Elvis Presley's coming to town.....can you believe that!?" "He'll be right here in Sheffield next month!"
My best friend, Elise, was practically shouting into the phone which I was now holding away from my ear. "Elvis, who?", I asked. "Elvis Presley!" she yelled, incredulously. "God, you know the one who sings "That's Alright Mama".
"Oh Yes, him!....he's really coming here?...unbelievable"
Elise and I had known each other since we became friends in Mrs. Bradford's fifth grade class at Annapolis Avenue School. Even in fifth grade she was adorable and a shameless flirt, and the boys were crazy about her. Even though we were best pals, sometimes I was a little envious of her popularity.© Caroline Cahoon Hauser 2003
When we were teenagers we were always together. We would visit each other after school often lounging across the bed in our bedrooms, listening to Perry Como sing "Hurry Home" and "Catch a Falling Star". Later we heard Elvis for the first time on the radio and we were hooked. We played "Blue Moon of Kentucky" and Blue Suede Shoes" until we drove out parents crazy. We listened to the call-in request shows on the radio, or we played single 45 records on a small RCA phonograph. We had the first Elvis recordings on the yellow Sun label. It was a romantic time of parties and sock-hops on Friday nights. We'd slow dance to the Four Aces and Patti Page, and hop to Chubby Checker's "Shake Rattle and Roll"
When the word got around that Elvis was going to appear at the Sheffield Community Center, we didn't know or care that he was not the main attraction. The ticket, dated November 15, 1955 featured Hank Thompson and the Brazos Valley Boys. It cost one dollar for advance purchase and a dollar twenty-five at the door.
We bought the tickets weeks before, and on the night of the concert we left home early to be sure to get good seats near the stage. We wanted to be as close as possible to get a good look at Elvis.
We found seats in the second row, center. While we waited for the show to start we tried to remember some of the names who had performed on this rather unremarkable stage. Louis Armstrong had played there, as had Hank Williams, Webb Pierce, Hank Snow, Ernest Tubb, Charlie Pride to name a few, and now Johnny Cash and Elvis!
Soon the lights began to dim and the drums rolled louder and louder as the curtain slowly rose. A spot light beamed down from somewhere above and found it's target, striding like a nervous tiger, to the center of the stage directly in front of where we were sitting! The microphone was already standing there as though at attention. Elvis grabbed it by it's slender neck and sneered into it. The room exploded with cheer and then instantly quieted down as he began to sing. Elise nudged me grinning and rolling her eyes with approval. Words that couldn't be heard anyway, were not necessary!
Elvis looked even better than we had expected.
He was dressed in sexy black baggy pants and a light colored sport coat
which hung casually open to show his purple, shiny shirt with the collar
turned up in the back. He was wearing lavender shoes and they were
constantly moving. He was a beautiful sight as he flashed his half
sneering smile. The audience shared his energy and he made us feel
elated and excited to be there absorbing the feeling. He wiggled,
gyrated and shook. I had never seen anyone move like him. He
had no apparent inhibitions. He was enjoying the moment and loving
the reactions of the people around him on stage and off. The more
response he got from his audience the more he gave them.I felt mesmerized as a smile froze on my face. Elvis came close to the edge of the stage, dragging the microphone and guitar hanging around his neck.....His eyes caught mine and he smiled down at me and winked, as though we shared some special secret; and for the remainder of his performance, he sang to ME! It was an intoxicating game. He kept on staring at me, ignoring others. Heads began to turn to watch my reaction. I was thrilled and embarrassed, but I didn't look away. I felt locked in this lovely gaze.
Whatever else that took place on the stage was a blur until he finished his part of the show and the curtain came down for a short intermission. During this time, friends ran over to me and crowed around asking me "how I felt," and "wasn't I lucky?!"© Caroline Cahoon Hauser 2003
Among the other performers that evening, the one I remember most, aside from Elvis, was Johnny Cash. He was already well known for the country music, and was especially popular in the south. Everyone I knew who played a guitar wanted to imitate Johnny's "sound". He was different and recognizable from anyone else because of his special style and rugged good looks.
When Johnny came on stage, he was carrying his guitar in one hand and waving to the audience's response with the other. He walked to a chair sitting in the center of the stage where he propped one foot up on it and began to sing "I'll Walk The Line", followed by other songs including a popular one called "Hear That Train a 'Coming".
During the break Elvis and Johnny must have discussed the audience and perhaps the girl in the second row with the long dark hair, because when Mr. Cash finished his first or second song, he came over to the edge of the stage, as Elvis had done, looked down and began to sing to me, too! Now everyone began to crane their necks and whisper. They must have been curious about what on earth was going on with this girl in the audience. I was just as puzzled, but it was fun. I was enjoying this moment of fame.
Looking up at Mr. Cash, I couldn't help but notice a rather large bulge in the side of his pants. I was embarrassed for him. Every time he moved, his trousers would poke out in the most vulgar manner. I was sure he wasn't aware of this distracting protrusion. Later that evening, after the show, while he was standing in front of the curtain signing autographs, I was extremely amused and relieved to learn the cause of this phenomenon. Wide eyed, I watched him reach into his pocket and bring out a large amount of bills, all rolled up in a sizable wad.
When the show was over, a crowd of fans rushed to the stage stairs where Elvis appeared to sign autographs. For some reason, I didn't go up with the rest of the kids. I stayed in the same seat where I had sat during the show. Elise, along with others I knew and were my schoolmates gathered around Elvis. They were pushing paper, autograph books and pens at him, making requests about what they wanted him to write on their paper. I couldn't help but notice how good natured he seemed as he obliged each one.
Suddenly, he stopped what he was doing and called back in my direction. I turned in my seat and looked behind me, thinking it must be someone else he was speaking to. "Hey, you back there", he called, "don't you want my autograph?" I was stunned. Why was he continuing to pay attention to me? This was crazy. After a moments hesitation, I answered, "Well, yes....but only if you write something special." I couldn't believe I was hearing myself making this bold request. He grinned that funny grin, where his lip twitched up on one side and yelled back.
"What's your name?"
"Carol", I answered. God, I hated the way I sounded when I
tried to speak too loudly, and I hated my name. It's really Caroline, but because it is also my
Mother's and Grandmother's I got stuck with Carol. Elvis wrote on a
scrap of paper that he tore from someone's autograph book and then held it
out to me. "Here you are Carol...but you have to come over to
me and get it yourself." I stood up, tall, like my mother
always reminded me to do and with heart thumping and cheeks burning glided
over to where he stood. There was silence as the crowd parted and
Elvis handed me his note. It said, "To Carol, how 'bout a date,
huh? Answer yes or no." Signed, Elvis Presley. I
still have this note.My heart skipped.
Schoolmates crowded around me now, trying to read what he had written. They were surprised and I'm sure the girls were green. I was at a loss for words, so I answered coyly, "Oh, I don't think so....I'm supposed to go directly home." followed quickly by, "I'd have to call my parents to ask them." Immediately I regretted saying that because it must have sounded so immature and childish to Elvis; but instead of discouraging him, he became more determined. He insisted I use the pay phone in the lobby and call my mother. "Ask her if you can go with me to get a bite to eat." "I'm starved." he added, and he dug into his pocket for some change which he handed me. "I'll talk to her if you think it'll help." I hesitated, but finally said, "No, that's okay, I'll do it," knowing my parents would expect me to do my own asking.
My friends were all around me, encouraging me to go with him. "Go!" they said, "don't be an idiot. It's not every day you get asked out by Elvis Pressley!"
As I was still hesitant about making the call, someone in the group took charge of the phone and called my house. We waited, but no answer. I would have to tell Elvis I couldn't accept his invitation. Then someone else got the idea of calling my mother's sister who lived in the same town. When Aunt Edna answered, I got on the phone to explain. My parents were not at home and that Elvis Pressley had invited me to a restaurant and would drive me home afterwards. I could hear a catch in my aunt's voice. I knew she must be surprised. She could hear the voices and commotion in the background, and she reticently agreed, if I would promise to go directly home after eating.
"Of course", I said of course and hung up the phone feeling thrilled and happy to be free to go. The gang rushed back like dutiful subjects and found Elvis to tell him what he wanted to hear.
The crowd had thinned out and now Elvis appeared from inside the auditorium and took my hand. He led me toward several people still standing in a small group. A woman in the group caught my eye. She was about my height, plump, with dark premed hair which was pulled back on the sides. I thought she looked tired although she smiled when she saw Elvis approaching. Standing by her side was a man taller than she with light brown, wavy hair. A girl about my age was also with them. They looked adoringly at Elvis who turned and introduced me. "Mama, Daddy, I'd like you to meet Carol." "These are my parents and this is my cousin, Barbara." he said, nodding to the girl. Elvis hugged his mother, kissing her quickly on the cheek. He put his hand on his father's shoulder and feigned a playful poke to his stomach.
"We'll see ya later." "We're going to get something to eat." "Elvis is always hungry", his mother said, smiling at me.
I wondered where they were going and why we didn't invite them to join us, but I didn't ask. I assumed they had friends or relatives in town or else they were staying at one the few motels.
Elvis's mother said she was glad to meet me and then added, "You all be careful now, yah hear?" "Elvis, don't you stay out too late."
Mrs. Presley's voice was low and softly southern. She spoke quietly and seemed sad now as we turned and walked toward the back stage door where Elvis had left his car.
When we got into the car, I was surprised to see a beautiful new shiny pink Cadillac, long and sleek with incredible fins in back that gave it a racy, futuristic look.
Elvis placed his guitar case in the back seat and opened the front door for me. I was immediately impressed with his politeness and nice manners. Most of the boys I knew weren't like him. They might get in the car and let you open your own door.
Even though I had only been with Elvis for a few minutes, I already had the impression that he was quite mature and extremely confident for his age. Of course he was about four years older than I, and had certainly been around compared to me. It seemed he knew just what to say to make me feel at ease and comfortable.
As soon as he got in his side of the car and started the engine he asked, "How'd you like my parents?" "Isn't Mama the sweetest thing in the world?"© Caroline Cahoon Hauser 2003 Well, I wasn't sure but I said, "Oh, yes, she seems very sweet." He was unusually proud of both of his parents.
As we drove away from the building, I made the comment about how much I liked his pretty car. His face lit up. "Do you really?" "Good, I'm glad, because this is my honey. I got it as a gift for Mama, but she can't drive, so what the hell, I borrow it sometimes," he added with a grin.
By the time we turned the car onto the main street, there must have been fifteen or twenty cars following us like a train. In this small town anytime there were so many cars lined up, it was for a wedding or a funeral. Soon, our spontaneous procession began to resemble a parade as people honked and waved from open windows. It was so exciting. "I like being famous", I thought. Elvis, meanwhile just laughed at my reaction and began singing "I don't care if the sun don't shine....." and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. He was relaxed and funny.
Elvis was driving half turned in his seat leaning back against his door. Like this, he could look at me, and still pay attention to the road. I was having so much fun. I wondered how he could have so much energy left over after such a rigorous show, especially since it was now almost midnight. When I asked him about this, he said he was always too keyed up after a show just to go home and go to bed.
As we were driving, he reached down between us and felt for something on the seat. "What are you looking for," I giggled, thinking maybe I could help him find whatever he wanted. He laughed too and replied, "My comb." I found it tucked in the seat and handed it to him. He stopped at the corner and combed his black poker straight locks back on each side. A wisp on top fell down and touched the middle of his forehead. He was looking into the rear view mirror to check the results. "You're gorgeous," I remarked, teasingly. "Hey, you handsome devil," he said to his reflection in the mirror. "I gotta look good for my date."
He asked me what I thought about the show. Did I like the songs he sang, how did he look making all those crazy moves. He said that when he had done that fancy part where he went down to the floor for a split, he was sure he had heard his pants rip. "You were really fantastic," I assured him. "Didn't you hear the noise?" "They Loved you!" "Really, do you think so?" "I don't pay much attention, I'm just worried about remembering the words to the songs and playing my guitar without popping too many strings. Oh, yeah, and ripping my pants" he laughed.
I remember that while we were driving to the restaurant Elvis stopped at a stop sign, when a car pulled up next to us. The man driving leaned over his wife and little girl on the passenger side and said to Elvis, "Elvis, we are big fans of yours...we like you a lot and I was wondering if you would have a drink with me." With that he reached down under his seat and brought out a bottle wrapped in a brown paper sack and held it up for Elvis to see. Elvis smiled at the man and his family and said, "Thanks a lot sir...I really appreciate what you said and your offer to have a drink with you, but I don't drink liquor. Thanks anyway; have a good evening, sir."...and we drove away. Elvis said he felt bad to turn the guy down, but that he never did touch the "stuff."
Having lost some of our tail, we finally found a small place to eat along Chisholm Highway, right past Pole's Florist and across the street from the cemetery. We pulled in the parking lot on the left side of the road, just before the intersection and parked in front of the L & M Drive-In! © Caroline Cahoon Hauser 2003 The L & M was a diner with shiny quilted stainless steel walls. The front was red and white which reminded me of a package of L & M cigarettes that were popular then. We walked up several steps to the entrance and Elvis held the door open for me to go in first. A blast of warm air, smelling of fried potatoes, onions and coffee all mixed together confronted us. The loud thumping of a bass fiddle blasted from the big gaudy juke-box against the far wall. The atmosphere was typical; a bit stuffy with cooking odors, but warm and inviting. Those who had followed us there were beginning to come in behind us. We found a booth and I sat down first and Elvis slid in the same seat next to me, rather than sitting directly across from me as I had expected. Right away, several kids ventured over to us and asked politely if we minded if they joined us. After all, the seats across from us were invitingly empty and the place was quickly becoming crowded.....and Elvis Presley was sitting there. I thought they had a lot of nerve, but not Elvis. He didn't mind at all. "Sure, sit right down, put some money in that machine over there," pointing to the juke box, "and let's party!"
Soon the place was packed with local folks ogling to get a better look at Elvis while trying to remain nonchalant, peeking discretely over their menus and occasionally coming over to ask for an autograph.
"That's Alright Mama" was blaring forth and each song played was one of his records. I wanted to pinch myself. Was this real or would I awaken any minute? It seemed impossible that Elvis actually here in this place with me as his date.
At last we were seated, alone together in a crowd, and Elvis was giving me his undivided attention, ignoring the people across from us. Strangely our conversation was made private by the hum of the voices of others and the sound of his own voice coming from the records playing. He told me how beautiful my eyes were and how they, and my sweet smile, had attracted him to me from the start. "Really", I smiled at his words. "Really, believe me, I see lots of pretty girls, but you are different. You stand apart from the others. I can't explain it, just believe it!" He told me how he had loved singing to me tonight and watching how I reacted. "I could see you blushing, even with all those lights shining in my eyes", he said. "and I'll bet your girl friends will be jealous as hell", he laughed.
For something to say, I told Elvis about the roll of money in Johnny Cash's pocket. I thought he would fall off his seat, as he roared with laughter. Between bursts of hysterics, he managed to spit out that it probably wasn't an accident.....'rolling up all those ones and put 'em in his pocket" "Uhhh....honey, you're blushing, I'm sorry" It was then I realized that I should have thought better than to tell such a story.
While staring at my face for a long moment, Elvis said, "you've got some mascara stuff on your eyelashes, don't you?" It was a question, but sounded more like an admonishment. Oh dear, I thought...he probably thinks I'm not a nice girl. Elise and I had bought this latest type mascara at the drug store only last weekend. It came in a tube with a wand applicator. It was dark blue and smelled strange, like acetone. We decided to wear it tonight for this special occasion. It's a wonder my lashes didn't fall out! It made them stiff and it flaked off easily. "Yes, a little, why?" He didn't answer, instead he took his napkin from the table, touched it to his tongue and began to wipe off any trace of the blue stuff from my eyes. I might have been offended, but since my dad had done exactly the same thing with a handkerchief from his pocket, only a few days before, I allowed him to do this and accepted it as a caring, fatherly gesture. He leaned over and whispered in my ear, "You know, you are already beautiful and you don't need to wear that stuff!" At that moment, I really did feel beautiful. I was especially glad that I had decided to wear my favorite dress tonight. Pink was my best color, and Elvis commented on how pretty it was. When I told him that I had made it myself and without a pattern, he was impressed. His mother made most of her dresses too, he said as well as some of his shirts.
The waitress came to take our order. She was trying, I could imagine, to remain cool and collected, but as she held her order pad, I couldn't help but notice that her hand was trembling. Elvis noticed too, and smiled and teased her. "Lordy, missy, settle down" he told her.... "or I'm going to bite you if you don't hurry up and take our order." She smiled and I could see how pleased she was at his attention. Elvis ordered a bacon and egg sandwich with lettuce, tomato and mayonnaise on white toast. "And burn the bacon, please," he requested. The waitress asked him again in disbelief. "Yep, that's right honey, I like my bacon real crisp and burnt-like, so tell the cook to burn it." The others at the table heard him and laughed, but he seemed serious. I couldn't help but be curious about why he liked his bacon burnt, so I asked him. He pulled me close, pressed his forehead against mine, noses touching, and said with his eyes crossed, "to make little girls like you ask questions." "No, really," he continued, I guess I like it that way because my Mama used to always burn the bacon by mistake every morning, so instead of throwing it away, we just ate it burnt. I guess I just kind of got to liking it that way."
I told him I understood, because my mother burned the toast every morning too. And when the smoke would billow from the oven she would run to open the door allowing the gray smoke to escape from the kitchen. This would really aggravate my dad who didn't want to go to the office smelling like burnt toast. Unlike bacon, it was always beyond eating as it lay curled and black like charred roof shingles in the smoking pan. Elvis laughed at my story and said the scene was very familiar.
We finished our sandwiches and were drinking another glass of coke, when I noticed how late it was. Elvis paid the check for the others at our table and we began to leave, stopping several times for Elvis to sign his name to a napkin or a scrap of paper. My little note was tucked safely away in my purse. I would keep it forever!
As we drove away, we lost the few cars still following us. I directed Elvis to my house and we parked under the street light out front. We didn't get out right away. Elvis moved close and put him arm around me. I could never forget how gentle and sweet he was as he slowly caressed my cheek and tilted my face closer and closer to his until I felt his soft, warm lips touching mine. Suddenly I was afraid. I hadn't meant to kiss him...but I had and I wanted to again, and never stop. Just then I looked towards my house and thought I saw the curtains move inside. I mentioned this to Elvis. He said it was probably my dad and his life could be in danger. I agreed and we got out and walked towards the house.© Caroline Cahoon Hauser 2003
I didn't hear any knocks on the window warning me to come inside so I decided not to go in right away. I didn't want the evening to end just yet. We were just getting to know each other and needed more time!
We sat down on the porch steps and began to talk about silly things like where we were born and what church I belonged to. When I told him that I was born in Mississippi, he couldn't believe the coincidence. We were born in small towns very near each other. He in Tupelo, and I in Corinth. He told me that he had a twin brother who had died. I told him about my younger brother, Billy who was probably trying to spy on us this very moment.
Elvis talked about his crazy world of one night stands and what a strange feeling it was to suddenly be recognized and have people actually want his autograph and even tremble in his presence; like the waitress had tonight at the diner.
We talked about how we felt we had always know each other. It felt natural and wonderful sitting together on my front porch, holding hands on this unseasonably, warm November night looking up at the stars in the clear Alabama sky. He told me that he might be coming back for another concert here sometime in the summer. "I really like you a whole bunch, he told me, "I think I'm gonna be thinking up ways to get back to this one-horse town to see you." I mentioned that I had an aunt who lived in Memphis. It was then we discovered yet another coincidence. He lived with his parents in a community called 'Sherwood Forrest', which was a suburb outside of Memphis.
My Aunt Rose and Uncle Joe lived in Sherwood Forrest, too, on Goodman Circle, while he lived not far away on Getwell Road. Another family member, Snowden B. Presley lived at 1075 Faxon Avenue. I remember this because I found the address scribbled on the scrap of paper torn from a newspaper. I had saved it in my old diary. I can't remember why I had written it down.
We had a laugh about our relatives living so close in Tennessee, while we had both once lived in Mississippi and concocted a plan that I should go to visit my Aunt in Memphis as soon as Elvis returned from a road trip through the South. "I want to give you my address and phone number, it's unlisted, so don't lose it," he said.
I dug into my small purse for a pencil and something to write on. I found a pen, but not paper. I forgot that the note he had written to me earlier was tucked away in a secret compartment. He reached down and took my hand. "Promise me that you will call Mama and ask her when I'll be hone again." He pressed my palm to his lips for a long moment and then closed my fingers over his writing and his kiss. He stood up and pulled me to my feet. We stared into each others eyes for a long moment before he hugged me tightly and then kissed me on my eyes and mouth. "Goodbye, little one, see you as soon as I can, and don't forget -- don't buy a ticket to my next concert; just come to the stage door, you know, at the side entrance, and tell whoever is there to let you in, that you have a date with me. Please wait for me. Till then, stay as sweet as you are now, you hear?"
He left my yard walking backwards to his car, smiling his crazy, sad smile. I went inside quickly and ran to the window to watch him drive away. His sleek pink car gleamed in the glow of the street lamp.
I felt strangely different and special. I reached up to touch my mouth where he had kissed me. In spite of his promise, I was doubtful that I would ever see him again. I had a feeling that he was soon going to be a big star. I felt a sadness that I didn't understand. and emptiness I couldn't explain. It was as though something wonderful had begun, had a brief life, and ended in the course of an evening.
I was almost right, but not entirely.
© Caroline Cahoon Hauser 2003
Bill Gray, SHS Class of '55, read Carol's story and wrote:
"The second subject about your web site is an error in time which I have been meaning to write to you about. I really enjoyed reading Carol Cahoon's account of her relationship with Elvis --- however, she missed the first episode. I will tell you how I know this to be fact.
In her story, Carol says, "He was almost twenty-one and I was seventeen when Elvis Presley came to my hometown in November, 1955." That may have been so; but, she initially met Elvis earlier.
When I was a senior at SHS, a group of us used to go to the Community Center in the afternoons after school to dance. I know Lindsay Nathan and Charles Clendenon were there, but I cannot recall the others right now. There were eight to ten of us. The director of the Community Center was a really nice guy, tall and slender, and treated we juveniles as real people.
One afternoon, he brought out a new 45 rpm for us to hear. It was Elvis' new demo, Little Mama, and we loved it --- a really good beat for jitterbugging --- and for Lindsay and Charles to do the "bop." When I asked him the name of the singer, he told me Elvis Presley. My first reaction was, "With a name that weird, he will never make it." How would you have liked to had me handling your financial investments? Now, the name does not seem weird at all compared to some that we hear --- but, in 1954-55, it was weird.
About a month later, Elvis and two side men came to the Community Center for a one night concert --- and we all fell in love with him. At the end of the concert, all the girls rushed up to the edge of the stage --- and some time during that melee, Elvis made his choice to get to know Carol. I recall it well, for I remember thinking that Elvis could have had his choice of any of the girls that we, at that time, thought were so gorgeous and exciting. Carol was a quieter person; not the type to push herself toward the front. Yet, Elvis saw her through all the others.
When I have looked at my yearbook over the years, I have often thought about how our values change. The girls, or guys, depending upon which side of the aisle you are standing --- which we thought were so attractive and beautiful when we were in high school --- now seem to be rather common. Yet, many of those who we thought were the wall-flowers, the quiet ones, the less aggressive ones, the shy ones --- looking at them in the yearbook now, I often think, "Billy boy, you were a fool not to have noticed her then!"
At this concert, there was no headliner on the playbill. It was only Elvis and his two side-men. This was shortly after Little Mama had been released and his promoters sent the trio on one night stands around the South. My guess is that it was to test the water.
The reason I know that it was earlier than November 1955 is because Bob Davis, Willie Joe Foust, Cortez Melton, and I joined the Air Force and left home one week after our June 5th graduation in 1955. By November 1955, we had finished our eleven week Basic Training, come home for thirty day leave, and I was in Denver, Colorado, freezing my butt off and attending an Electronic Technician training course at Lowry AFB.
So, even though Carol and Elvis most likely dated in November 1955 --- they initially met much earlier, either in late 1954 or in early 1955 --- some time before June 5th."