Two Hours to Remember [Elvis]

Paternal Grandmother - The Doll Dress Maker

Cir. 1958. Elvis Presley and his manager get lost in a neighborhood in Portland, OR, and when their car breaks down, they stay with an elderly woman and her husband until help comes. This older couple happens to have a granddaughter staying with them for the day, a refreshing breath a fresh air for Elvis since she doesn't seem to be his fan. He's drawn to her because of that, as well as her shy nature, cute face and incredible talent. (Note: Glenn is my dad's given first name.)

~ ~ ~

"Elvis, are you sure you know where you're going?"

My manager Colonel Tom Parker had let me take the wheel only a few times in the two years he started managing me. It had either been him or one of my Mafia members at the wheel. Jerry and Sonny didn't come with us on this trip to Portland, Oregon for my concert, so they were nowhere in sight. The only things that the Colonel and I could see were many houses in this dense neighborhood.

"I have the map right here, Colonel. I'm pretty sure this is the right way."

He took the map that was on the headboard and looked closely at it. Even in the car, he wore his tan fedora hat. We passed a street sign, and he caught sight of it. He let out a large sigh. "Elvis, you made a wrong turn. We're two miles away from where we need to be. The road we need to be on is this one, not the one we're on."

I glanced over saw him pointing to a space on the map. "Really?" I pulled over, near a white two-story house. I took a closer look at the map, and my brows rose. "Oh. Maybe I did. Well, let's head on that way, then."

"Please do. Remind me never to let you take the wheel again."

I chuckled at that. "Oh, c'mon, Colonel. It's only a couple of miles."

"A couple of miles will make us late. You have to be at the theater in an hour."

My concert didn't start until four, but I had to be there at noon to do a complete run-through of all my songs, the band included. Also, my fans would be there, and that was another hour that I would spend signing autographs, giving hugs, answering questions for them and the press, and so forth. I wasn't even supposed to be going to this concert since I was busy getting King Creole wrapped up, and I would be heading off to the army soon. But the Colonel insisted since it would raise money, and I couldn't do the provocative stuff. I would follow the rules this time. We didn't want a repeat of the Russwood Park incident.

"I think it'll be fine," I said. "Just don't sweat it, okay?"

"How about I take the wheel? I can read maps better than you can."

He wasn't wrong. "I got it. How 'bout you tell me where to go, huh?"

"Okay, fine, but if we get lost again, I'm taking the wheel."

"Deal."

I started up the car... only to hear a sputter. My brows creased and I tried to start it up again, only the engine kept on revving. "You have got to be kidding me..." the Colonel complained. "Try it again."

I did so, but had the same result. "She's not goin'." I looked at the gas gauge and my mouth dropped open. "What? How is it on empty? We filled 'er up just this mornin' at the rental place."

"This isn't my day..." the Colonel muttered, and I felt my chest pinch.

"I'm sorry, Colonel."

"Don't go feeling sorry. Let's get out and see what's going on. Actually, you stay in here. People could see you."

He got out of the black Cadillac, and I stayed put. I looked across the street at the houses there, then at the house we were parked right in front of next to the curb. It had a bleak front yard, a concrete path leading up to the front door, as well as a dark-green Cadillac that looked like it hadn't been washed in a few years. Yes, the people who lived in the house and the houses around most likely knew who I was. Someone sighting me was asking for the press to run over for a story.