The Willow Glen Resident

Photograph courtesy of Cookie Curci-Wright

Meet the King: Cookie Curci-Wright met Elvis at a party following a performance in Lake Tahoe in 1972. He took her hand, tenderly kissed it and drawled, "How ya doin', hon?"

Getting an audience with the King

An evening with the king of rock & roll had this columnist all shook up

By Cookie Curci-Wright

It was 1972, and my friends and I decided to get summer jobs in the casinos at Lake Tahoe, hoping to bring a little excitement into our lives. With the Elvis Summer Festival rolling into town, we had no idea just how exciting things were going to get.

Elvis' manager, Col. Tom Parker, had milked anticipation for the King's arrival by stacking the Sahara Tahoe Casino wall to wall with banners, flags and pictures announcing the great coming attraction. Oversized posters of Elvis, wearing his now-famous jeweled white jumpsuit, hung on exterior walls and dangled from casino ceilings. Red, white and blue streamers streaked across the walls. In the hotel lobby, Elvis souvenirs were sold nightly.

Huge red neon letters shouting "ELVIS, ELVIS, ELVIS" lit up the top of the big casino--and Lake Tahoe's entire skyline. On the tall Sahara marquee, a rotating stream of white lights spelled out Elvis' name over and over again.

Elvis' pals and musicians came into the club I worked in every night after their show. They were easy to spot; most of them wore a piece of jewelry inscribed with "TCB" on top of a golden lightning bolt. The 24-karat gold pieces were gifts from their boss-- a reminder for them to "take care of business." While working in the casinos, I became acquainted with some of Elvis' pals, guitarist Charlie Hodge, musical arranger and piano player Glen Hardin, and his high school buddy and bodyguard Red West. Red personally invited me to see a couple of the shows and to attend one of Elvis' after-show parties.

Elvis' shows were all sold out. Breathless women waited nightly to get into the performance, forming a snake line twisting through the casino. That night, after watching Elvis' electrifying late-show performance, I took the elevator to the star suite on the top floor of the casino where the entire floor was reserved for the King and his royal entourage. An iron gate and an armed guard separated Elvis from the rest of the world. I gave my name to the guard and told him I was expected. A moment later, Red was called out to greet me. Knowing I was but moments away from meeting the King, my knees began to shake and my hands began to tremble. By the time I walked through the doorway of the suite, I was shaking all over. When I entered the room, the first person I saw was Presley himself, sitting in a large, ornately carved wooden chair surrounded by crimson cushions.

Red walked me over to Elvis and introduced us. "Elvis, meet Cookie. Cookie, meet Elvis."

Elvis remained seated during the greeting in his big, comfortable chair; not exactly the act of a country gentleman--more like an actual king meeting one of his loyal subjects.

But when Elvis took my hand and tenderly kissed it hello with that boyish charm of his, I knew I could forgive him anything.

"How ya doin', hon?" he asked, with his sexy drawl. Elvis called all the ladies "hon" or "darlin'." I doubt very much if he even tried to remember all our names.

I was mumbling an answer to Elvis' half-hearted question when he pointed to a nearby crowded couch and invited me to "sit down and stay awhile." I quickly took the last available seat, next to Elvis' dad, Vernon Presley.

That night, Elvis was wearing a tight-fitting black jumpsuit that showed off a perfect physique. A bright red silk scarf hung loosely around his neck; the color contrast was dazzling against his porcelain complexion. Elvis' dyed jet-black hair glistened under the overhead lamps, and his hazel eyes were clear and magnetic. Even up close, Elvis looked perfectly fabulous.

Most of the night, Elvis sat in his armchair sharing funny road stories and laughing at inside jokes with his "boys." A group of attractive young women--airline attendants--encouraged him to continue his storytelling. I was offered the choice of sitting at Elvis' feet along with the girls or remaining on the couch. I chose the couch. At age 28, I would have felt a bit awkward sitting on the floor among the group of giggling young fans.

Room service brought up a continuous supply of Blue Nun white wine called Liebfraumilch. Elvis and his boys referred to this favorite wine as "Lip frog milk." Along with the wine, trays of cold cuts and fried shrimp were constantly served. Elvis, who was very lean at this time, ate very little and drank an occasional orange juice. He gripped an empty white cigarette holder between his teeth, referring to it as his "pacifier."

Meanwhile, back on the sofa, the senior Mr. Presley amused the older crowd by relating his favorite fish stories from trips back home on the lakes and ponds of Tennessee. Vernon Presley seemed a quiet man with simple tastes, and I got the distinct impression he felt a little out of place amid the clamor and glamour his son evoked. Not that he wasn't enjoying the attention he received from the ladies--far from it. Just like his son, the elder Mr. Presley had an eye for the ladies.

In the wee hours of the morning, Elvis suddenly startled us all by jumping to his feet and challenging one of his pals, Sonny West, to a playful karate demonstration. (Elvis had picked up the interest in martial arts during his Army stint in Germany.)

We ducked for cover as Elvis shook up the party with his high kicks, spins and karate blows, knocking over tables, chairs and anything else that got in his way. I watched from a safe distance as Elvis and his sparring partner exchanged fake blows and eventually wore themselves out. The match was obviously a draw, but Sonny, playing to his boss' ego, proclaimed Elvis the winner.

Later, Hodge showed some of us the special room reserved for Elvis' bejeweled stage wardrobe. The jumpsuits he wore each night during his act were cleaned after every show, neatly encased in clear plastic and returned to the racks. I couldn't resist the urge to hold one of Elvis' gaudy suits in my hands, if only for a minute. I raised one from the rack but, surprised by its extreme weight, quickly returned it to the hanger. Holding the ornate costume, even for a minute, gave me a new appreciation of how Elvis must have felt wearing it every night for hours at a time under those hot stage lights.

It was getting to be early morning now, and the sun had begun to rise over the Sierra Nevada. The view of the lake from Elvis' living room balcony was spectacular. Party-goers, including Elvis, were mesmerized by the morning sun's reflection over beautiful Lake Tahoe.

The party was finally breaking up when Elvis called for one of his boys to bring him "the usual." I noticed Elvis hadn't been drinking all night, so I was curious to see what "the usual" was.

A minute later, Elvis' assistant handed him a black valise and a glass of water. Elvis opened the case, and to my surprise it was filled to the brim with an assortment of stomach antacids. Elvis chose one, a double Alka-Seltzer, and offered the same to the rest of his guests.

I took a packet from the case, and bringing my most memorable evening to a close, I plopped the effervescent wafer into a glass of water. Before bidding the great singing star goodbye, I joined him in a nightcap I will never forget.

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