Inside Graceland: Elvis' Maid Remembers (13 page)

My mind wondered off to the many days I had stored his clothes in his closet, or in his dressing room next to the bathroom upstairs. How many times had I folded his sweaters and put them in his dresser, or checked his jumpsuits to make sure they didn’t need anything done to them. All those times I had casually gone about doing those mundane things with no thought that, someday, he would be dressed in a coat and tie, laying in a casket in front of me.

As I stood there, looking at him, questions began forming in my head. Was there anything I could have done to have prevented his death. Was there something I should have noticed, some hint of what was to come that should have been a warning to me. I guess it’s normal to go through the “what if’s” when a person close to you dies, and I found myself right in the middle of that as I stared at his lifeless body, feeling a sense of loss that I had not anticipated. Then a flood of memories came rushing over me, thoughts of all the good times I had shared with him in the last ten years. And the thought occurred to me, we really had a lot of good memories together, ones that I will always cherish.

Thank goodness for those sudden happy thoughts. Otherwise I think I would have broken down and cried right there, something I know Elvis would not have wanted. I suddenly pictured him, up in Heaven looking down on all of us in the house at that moment, smiling that beautiful smile, saying, “Don’t be so sad, I’m out of all my pain now.” And, though I hope no one saw it, I think a little smile may have appeared faintly on my face.

As I stood there in my own thoughts, I became aware of other people coming into the room to pay their respects. Having paid mine, I returned back to the kitchen, where I again joined in with the massive food preparations now under way.

The mansion, thankfully, was full of people and had a sense of hustle to it, which helped to keep our minds off the events of the last two days. There were so many details to attend to and that acted like a tourniquet for us.

Vernon had decided, on the spur of the minute, to allow a public viewing to take place later in the afternoon. His original intention was to allow the public to file quickly by the casket, which was to be placed right inside the front doorway, for two hours.

I heard several of the men in charge of security complaining among themselves what a nightmare scenario could take place if things went wrong in any way.

Secretly they felt they needed to let Vernon know that it was not such a good idea to allow thousands of shocked and emotional fans to not only get onto the grounds of Graceland, but actually take a few steps inside the mansion. There was also the fear of a riot if that many fans, already emotionally overwrought and burdened by the death of their idol, should suddenly become, perhaps not intentionally, hysterical and out of control. Just the thought of an event such as that happening there at Graceland, with Elvis lying in his casket, added to the emotional pain we were all feeling.

This minor sense of alarm became contagious. It spread to those of us inside the mansion, causing some uneasiness among some of the staff. This, added to an already saddened sense of distress over Elvis’ death, made that day feel as if nothing in the world would ever be right again.

Among the concerns, the plan to allow the viewing was allowed to take place. Though there were some minor incidents, such as people fainting and a number of emotional outbursts as fans got close to the casket, it actually went off without a hitch. The security plan worked. As they had done so many times while Elvis was alive, his security detail protected him in death, as well.

They stationed themselves in front, in back, on both sides, as well as right by the door to make sure no one got close to Elvis. They also wanted to make sure no photos were taken as people passed by the open casket.

As hot and humid as the day was, and with them standing right next to the open front door, it was a test of endurance for them, a test they passed with flying colors. Everyone associated with Elvis felt a deep sense of obligation to make sure things went off without a hitch. They were “taking care of business.”

During the course of the viewing we all took our turns sitting at the dining room table and quietly observing the fans coming up to view their fallen hero. If any of the mourners passing by the casket had been looking around the inside of the house that afternoon, rather than looking at Elvis, they would have seen a rare site. They would have observed, during those few hours, just about all of Elvis’ entourage grouped together in one place, sitting on the stairs, seated in the living room, standing in the dining room. We, like the rest of the world, were just as stunned at Elvis’ death, and, like everyone else at that time, didn’t know what to do, or how to handle it. So we all congregated in and around the foyer and observed the fans saying goodbye.

We observed a cross-section of America in the fans that came by that afternoon. Young and old, men and women, children, rich and poor. I guess that I had taken it for granted, working for Elvis all those years, how much he had meant to his fans. But, as I sat there watching the emotions on the grief-stricken faces passing by, and saw the true depth of their pain, I found myself realizing how truly remarkable this man had been.

There was such an honesty about their obvious devotion to a man, a man I had watched day in and day out truly appreciate their love and affection.

I could see out the front windows, and watched as several golfcarts shuttled back and forth collecting the unlucky fans who, mostly from heat exhaustion, fainted right before getting to the door.

I remember on more than one occasion hearing screaming going on as the medical personnel patiently explained to people, before loading them onto the golfcart and transporting them to the first air shelter by the front gate, that they would be allowed to return after they were attended to.

I was amazed at the sight of fans, so exhausted they had to be helped onto the golfcart, hysterically screaming that they had to see their hero, fighting with what little strength they had left, not to be taken from the spot they had waited hours to get to. Again, it made me realize how great a mark Elvis had left on his fans.

Though the original intention had been to let the fans file by the open casket for two hours, the crowds became so large that it was obvious that a lot of the fans waiting expectantly outside the gates would not get a chance to get in within the two hour period.

I was in the kitchen, making what seemed like the 20th container of ice tea I’d made for the day, when Joe Esposito and Dick Grob walked into Grandma’s room, where Vernon and a number of other family members were gathered.

As I took drinks into the room I heard Joe and Dick explaining the situation to Vernon. Vernon, through tear-stained eyes, said something to the effect that, “Elvis would want us to let as many fans through as possible. Let’s keep the gates open as long as we can. I want as many people to have one last look at my son as possible.”

And with that, he broke down into an inconsolable sob, looking so frail and vulnerable. That, of course, created a chain reaction among some of the other family members, Grandma in particular.

I was glad to be able to leave the room, wanting to do something to help them but knowing that there was no consoling possible at a time like that.

That was part of the pain that we all experienced that day. In addition to trying to deal with our own grief, we so desperately wanted to be able to offer comfort to the Presley family, but we knew that, no matter what we said or did, it was a pain that they would have to handle in their own private way. We all realized that it was not anything that was going to go away any time soon.

The decision was made to extend the viewing another hour, in hopes of getting as many waiting fans through the line as possible. Even after another hour, however, the lines appeared to be growing even longer. Vernon, feeling an obligation to the many fans who were still waiting outside in the extreme temperatures, could not bring himself to close the gates just yet, and so another half hour was added to the viewing time.

The gates were eventually left open for about three and a half hours before, as darkness was approaching, the painful decision was made to have them closed. It was a tough decision for Vernon, but he had to deal with the fact that the family had already been told that they would have a special private viewing in the living room that night, and he had to allow time to prepare for that. That was not much consolation for the tens of thousands of fans still waiting outside the gates.

When the final time did come, we were a little concerned that a riot might break out, with all the thousands of fans still outside expecting to get in.

However, when the order was finally given to close the gates, a number of police officers were able to control the crowd enough to get the gates closed without any major incidents. We were told that there were still tens of thousands of people outside the front gates when they were finally closed.

In death, as in life, Elvis was continuing to draw a crowd.

“WHAT A SAD DAY!”
 

By
the time Thursday rolled around, the reality that Elvis
wa
s really gone had begun to sink in. Everyone’s shock and disbelief was slowly turning into the realization that Elvis, the icon we had all come to believe was immortal, would be laid to rest today.

I arrived for work that morning, spending what seemed like an eternity getting my car slowly through the “peaceful mob” gathered in front of Graceland. Cars were parked everywhere on both sides of Elvis Presley Blvd., and even in the middle of the street, as dozens of police officers tried patiently to keep the thousands of broken-hearted fans in some semblance of order. The looks on their faces said it all.

It probably took me fifteen minutes to get through the crowd, blowing my horn constantly to get the people to let me inch my way slowly forward until I finally got to the front gate. Seeing me, Uncle Vester opened the gate, allowing me to drive up the same front driveway I’d driven up for the past ten years.

This time, however, it was a far different world. I was overcome with a strange feeling, knowing that Elvis would be leaving the house he loved so much for the last time that afternoon.

Everything seemed so different that morning. It was not unusual to see one or two cars parked in front of the house when I routinely drove to work in the morning. But this particular morning looked like a used car lot had sprung up out front.

I drove around to the back of the house and was greeted with an even wider array of cars parked all over the place. I finally found a parking space far removed from where I usually parked.

Even before getting out of my car I could feel a sense of loss and grief hanging over the entire estate like a cloud.

After going inside and speaking to Pauline and Mary, who were already in the kitchen starting the food preparations for the long day ahead, I went into Grandma’s room to check on her. I found her sitting in her rocking chair. She was talking to Aunt Delta, who was seated in another chair at the foot of the bed. Just the two of them were in the room. It was apparent that Grandma had been crying earlier, but, in her usual strong-willed way, she would hold it together. Aunt Delta’s eyes were also red.

After getting the two of them coffee, and being assured they didn’t need anything else at the time, I made a sweep of the living room, dining room, and den. I then went downstairs to the basement, emptying ashtrays, gathering up any trash from the trash cans, and just, in general, trying to make the place “presentable.”

The last two days had seen hundreds of family members, friends, business acquaintances, police officers, and anyone else lucky enough to get through security at the front gate, coming through the house to pay condolences.

Also, in the tradition of the deep south at a time like this, people were trying to help in any way they could. That had meant a lot of messes to clean up throughout the house, and I, along with the rest of the staff at Graceland, felt a deep sense of obligation to keep what had been Elvis’ pride and joy looking it’s best.

Having done what needed to be done in the basement, I went back up to the first floor.

Sometime during the course of the day, I saw Col. Parker, Elvis’ manager, come into the house. Though it wasn’t all that unusual for him to come to the house, it did seem strange to see him that day.

He came, dressed in his usual casual shirt and unpressed pants, and sporting his trademark hat and chomping on a fat cigar. My first thought was that he had come to pay his respects. He and Vernon, who was having a very difficult time holding it together for more than twenty minutes at a time, went into the dining room. As I took them something to drink, I noticed that the Colonel had some papers laid out in front of Vernon. Vernon looked so tired and anguished, but the Colonel looked like he was determined to get Vernon to discuss them. I later found out that, during that meeting, the Colonel had talked Vernon into signing over the authority to him for handling the merchandising for all the Elvis products that would spring up immediately after Elvis died. I always felt like Vernon was in no position that day to have made those kinds of decisions.

I can’t remember if it was the day Elvis died or the next day, that Aunt Delta, I think with input from Vernon and Grandma, decided to seal off the entire second floor area of the house, what had been Elvis’ private inner sanctum. (The upstairs had long since become the area valued by Elvis for it’s privacy and had become a place where he could retreat into a solitude where no one would bother him.)

There is only one door leading to the upstairs, located at the top of the landing from the foyer, and Aunt Delta had that lock changed. She kept the only key to that lock, and anyone wanting to go upstairs had to get the key from her.

The initial reason given for sealing off the upstairs was that the family wanted to keep anyone, out of respect for Elvis, from seeing the spot where he had died.

Another reason, though no one would admit it, was that Vernon wanted to make sure that nothing was stolen from that part of the house, where most of Elvis’ personal items were kept.

Under the best of circumstances, Vernon was not one to trust very many people where Elvis was concerned, and, after Elvis’ death, he became much less trusting, to the point where he believed that someone may have actually murdered his son. He believed that until the day he died, mentioning it to me, in passing, on several occasions.

Once the upstairs was locked, there was never any reason to open it back up again after Elvis died. No one but Elvis and Lisa had bedrooms up there and there was simply no reason to keep it open.

To my knowledge, no one has ever slept upstairs after the day Elvis died. Not only that, but only a handful of people to this day have access to the second floor, and it’s guarded as if it were Ft. Knox.

After checking to make sure that everything looked as good as it could, I made my way back into the kitchen to help in the food preparations for the day.

We all knew to expect a large number of people inside the house, and we began fixing whatever we could find in the two refrigerators, freezer, and cabinets.

Several attempts were made throughout the day to go to the grocery store but, because of the sheer number of fans blocking the gates and gathered all around the walls of Graceland, it became a challenge trying to get food to fix.

Among the items on the menu that day I remember we fixed spaghetti, several types of salads, barbeque, fried chicken, green beans, tons of sandwiches, and any kind of hors d’oeurves we could put together. Also, because it was so hot and humid that day, every kind of drink we could get our hands on was put out on tables for people to be able to help themselves to.

In addition to the food we fixed that day, what seemed like tons of food sent by local restaurants, as well as well-wishing family and friends, was being delivered to the mansion. I’m not sure how it got coordinated but a helicopter made several landings in the back pasture area to help get the food to us. That was the first time I had seen a helicopter up close like that. It seemed as if everyone in the world was doing their best to show their respects to Elvis that day.

We fed so many people in the house that day that we lost count. But what we had not counted on was the small army of police officers, sheriff’s deputies, paramedics, and others around the grounds that day providing security needed to handle the crowds milling all around.

There had been fears of a riot the day before when Vernon had decided to allow fans to view the body for several hours. Because of this, and not knowing what to expect the day of the funeral, they wanted to make sure that enough security would be on hand to handle whatever may have come that day. Also, because Elvis had always enjoyed the friendship and support of law enforcement, I was told that officers were going out of their way, some even working without pay on their days off, and were counting it an honor to work this final detail for someone they considered “one of their own.” (Elvis, at the time of his death, was a fully sworn Shelby County Sheriff’s Deputy.)

As the day wore on, and the heat and humidity began to build, it became apparent that we needed to provide food and drinks to these officers stationed all around the grounds of Graceland.

We began making “takeout plates” for all of the uniformed people outside. We took turns making regular deliveries on the golfcarts to all of these people.

Every time I thought we’d given food and drinks to every officer stationed outside that day, I’d see another one over by a tree, or standing by the wall, that we had missed. We were more than happy to do that, though, and they were all very appreciative. They were a joy to work with, and, of course, it helped that they complimented us on our cooking.

I poured myself into fixing food and drinks for everyone, I think, in part, to deaden the pain that we were all feeling about the upcoming funeral, which was to be held in the front part of the house.

I had lost track of time but was jolted back into reality a little before 2pm as officials from the funeral home began gathering everyone in the den in preparation to begin seating them for the service.

A brief silence took place as Grandma, Aunt Delta, Lisa Marie, Priscilla and Vernon were escorted from Grandma’s room, where they had gathered in anticipation of the service, down the short hallway and into the living room where they were seated in the front row, directly in front of the casket.

Elvis’ casket had been placed in front of the large doorway leading from the living room into the music room for the service.

Most of the furniture had been removed from the living room and the foyer, and folding chairs had been set up in the two rooms with an aisle down the middle. The several hundred mourners were more than could be seated, and a large crowd stood in the very back of the dining room for the entire service.

Even with the powerful air conditioning unit turned down to it’s lowest level, the entire house quickly became like a bake oven from the capacity crowd filling the rooms.

As the mourners had been assembling in the den, I caught a glimpse of James Brown, George Hamilton, Ann Margaret and her husband Roger Smith. Under normal conditions this would have been a joy for me to have seen these stars.

It had become almost routine over the years to occasionally see movie stars and well-known personalities in the house. But not today, not under these circumstances. What a sad day.

As we continued our kitchen preparations, we could hear the funeral service as it began in the front part of the house. The maintenance workers had set up a P.A. system but, because of all the noise in the kitchen as we were preparing food, we were not able to hear it very well.

Shortly after the minister began the eulogy, I made my way into the small storage room, located at the end of the hallway, where I could hear better. I ended up for the better part of the service leaning up against an upright ice machine for support. It seemed like an eternity as the heat continued to build from the crowds of people in the house.

I was so distressed that I don’t remember a whole lot of what was said at the service that day. I vaguely remember a lot of songs being sung, and several ministers delivering eulogies, but the main thing I remember was the overriding sense of loss I felt. The thought that I would never see Elvis’ bright smile, or hear that beautiful voice again, was overwhelming.

My sadness was quickly replaced with the responsibility of getting back to work as the funeral ended.

Before I knew it, the service was over and the mourners were being directed towards the hearse parked in front of the mansion.

A blast of hot air shot through the first floor as the front door was opened. The mourners were ushered outside into the stifling August heat, where they stood, waiting, for Elvis to make his last exit.

The pallbearers struggled under the weight of the heavy casket, barely able to get it through the front door of the house. With a great effort it was finally slid inside the waiting white hearse, shined to perfection and gleaming in the hot afternoon sun.

As this was taking place the silence of the moment was shattered with a loud cracking sound, as a large tree branch mysteriously broke and then shattered on the ground below, near the car reserved for Ginger Alden and her family. I heard it crack with my own ears. I have never been able to explain that in my own mind. I don’t know that I’d even be comfortable trying.

The officials from the Memphis Funeral Service did a very good job of coordinating the several hundred mourners into the waiting caravan of cars lined up to follow the hearse to the cemetery.

They had orchestrated the autos in a long line that wound around the back of the property and out the back gate. Within a short period of time, everyone was seated in a pre-assigned vehicle. The procession, led by Elvis and escorted by police officers on motorcycles, then started it’s slow, somber procession down the driveway and out onto Elvis Presley Boulevard.

The crowds were so large around the front gates that all we could see, as we watched the small closed circuit monitor in the kitchen, was what looked like a solid wall of people in all directions, as far as the eye could see.

Unlike the cheers that used to greet him when he appeared before them, this time they were quiet and very somber. Even though we could not hear any sound coming from the monitor, we could feel the quietness of the moment. About the only movement, other than the procession, came from a few photographers as they ran along beside the hearse trying to get one last photo of the fallen star.