#The Milton Berle Show

[elviscinema]

"I'd rather have a quiet type of girl. Someone more sedate. Someone that will calm me down and relax me. You know? I'll tell you the type I dig. Someone like Debra Paget."

THE MILTON BERLE SHOW Season 8, Episode 13 (1956)

[dopescissorscashwagon]

Elvis Presley on The Milton Berle Show

[hooked-on-elvis]

Rehearsing with Scotty Moore for their appearance on the Milton Berle show in June 1956.

[theatomicpoweredsinger]

Elvis during rehearsals for the Milton Berle Show at NBC Studios in Hollywood, CA, on Tuesday, June 5, 1956.

[cosmicretreat]

Today in 1977, the Milton Berle episode of The Muppet Show aired for the first time in the UK. This was the first episode that had a "Pigs in Space" sketch.

[oldshowbiz]

"I don't do political [humor]. I leave that to you and Mort Sahl, but I'd say if Nixon was the captain of the Titanic, he would have told his passengers, "Don't worry, folks. We're only stopping for ice."

- Milton Berle, Tonight Show starring Johnny Carson, June 1974

[papermoonloveslucy]

LUCY & THE WRITERS!

The Wordsmiths of the Lucyverse

Whether Lucy was the writer, or one of the various characters in her universe, the creative output always made us laugh! Novelists, playwrights, screenwriters, journalists, composers, and columnists were all part of the Lucyverse.

"Liz Writes a Song” (1949)

Liz Cooper (Lucille Ball) is convinced that she is a musical talent, but when a music professor (Hans Conried) tells her she'll never be a singer, she decides to take up songwriting instead! 

LIZ: “Carrie Jacobs Cooper writes again!” 

Carrie Jacobs-Bond (1862-1946) was a songwriter who composed some 175 pieces of popular music from the 1890s through the early 1940s. She is perhaps best remembered for writing the parlor song "I Love You Truly", becoming the first woman to sell one million copies of a song.  

“Lucy Writes a Play” (1952)

Lucy writes a play set in Cuba for Ricky to star in, but he refuses the part. She changes her play from Cuba to England and has Fred take Ricky's spot. Once Ricky learns a famous producer will be in the audience, he decides to surprise Lucy and appear in the play, but he has the wrong script. 

Ricky sarcastically calls Lucy “Mrs. Shakespeare.”  Her first play is titled “A Tree Grows in Havana” and the revised version is titled “The Perils of Pamela”. 

“The Publicity Agent” (1952)

Peter Leeds plays the newspaper reporter who asks the Scheherazade, Maharincess of Franistan. 

LEEDS: “Would Her Highness answer a few questions for the press?” LUCY: “Yes.”  LEEDS: “Good. Your highness, is it true that Ricky Ricardo is your favorite vocalist?” LUCY: “Yes.” LEEDS: “Do you like any other American performers?” LUCY: “No.” LEEDS: “Now, let me see if I have this straight... You've never seen Ricky Ricardo in person, you first heard his records two years ago and you fell in love with his voice and decided to come to America to see him. Your father didn't approve, but you came anyway and you can hardly wait to hear him sing. Is that right?” LUCY: “Yes, no, yes, yes, yes, no and yes.” LEEDS: “I see. Now about the political situation in Franistan ---”

“The Operetta” (1952)

The Wednesday Afternoon Fine Arts League is putting on an operetta and Lucy decides to write the show herself!  Needless to say, Ricky and the Mertzes are in the cast as well. The final script is “The Pleasant Peasant” by Ethel 'Romberg' and Lucy 'Friml' and starring 'John Charles' Ricardo. In reality, the songs were written by series composer Eliot Daniel, who wrote the show's theme song.

“Ricky Has Labor Pains” (1953)

To crash Ricky’s ‘daddy shower’ (aka stag party), Lucy and Ethel disguise themselves as Sam and Fred, reporters for the New York Herald Times Tribune, a mash-up of several real New York dailies.

“Lucy Writes a Novel” (1954)

Hearing that a housewife got $10,000 for writing a book, Lucy decides to become a novelist. Much to the chagrin of Ricky, Fred and Ethel, her subject will be a thinly disguised (and outrageously romanticized) version of her own life titled “Real Gone With The Wind”. 

LUCY: “You'll get no more books from me, so go watch television!”

“Fan Magazine Interview” (1954)

Magazine journalist Eleanor Harris doing a feature story on the Ricardo marriage, at the same time that Ricky's agent concocts a publicity scheme inviting women on the Tropicana mailing list to a phony date. 

Eleanor Harris (played by Joan Banks) was the name of a real magazine writer who wrote about Lucy and Desi as early as 1940. She also authored a book titled The Real Story of Lucille Ball published about the same time this episode was first aired.

“Ethel’s Hometown” (1955)

The last stop before Hollywood is Albuquerque, New Mexico, Ethel’s hometown, where she is given the star treatment instead of Ricky. Billy Hackett (Chick Chandler), editor of the Chronicle, is doing a story on Ethel Mae to herald her return on her way to Hollywood. 

“Bullfight Dance” (1955)

Lucy is asked to write an article for Photoplay Magazine about what it’s like to be married to Ricky. Lucy keeps the contents of the article secret until she’s given a plum role in his latest show. 

“The Hedda Hopper Story” (1955) / “Lucy Takes a Cruise to Havana” (1957) 

Both episodes featured Elda Furry, a film actress who turned gossip columnist and renamed herself Hedda Hopper (1985-1966). She was the go-to source for what was going on in the personal and business relationships of Tinseltown. 

She supported Lucy and Desi throughout their careers and they repaid them with these special appearance, as well as mentioning her name in several other episodes. Hopper was recognizable for her elaborate headgear.

“Homecoming” (1956)

Recently returned from Hollywood, Lucy is interviewed by gossip columnist Nancy Graham (played by Elvia Allman) about life as wife to a famous movie star (aka Ricky). The character is probably a tribute to Sheilah Graham, who was an English-born Hollywood journalist. Along with Louella Parsons and Hedda Hopper, Graham wielded sufficient power to make or break Hollywood careers – prompting her to to say that she was "the last of the unholy trio."

“Milton Berle Hides Out at the Ricardos” (1959)

Milton Berle appears here in the capacity of a published author, promoting his first (and only) novel, Earthquake written with John Roeburt. 

Berle had previously written the joke books Laughingly Yours in 1938 and Out of My Trunk in 1948. He wrote his autobiography in 1974 with help from Haskel Frankel. His last book was a 1987 collection of sketches and reminiscences titled B.S. I Love You. 

“Lucy Becomes a Reporter” (1963)

After just three days as the fill-in society reporter for the Danfield newspaper, Lucy’s job is hanging by a thread. The only thing that will save it is an interview with a press-shy financier visiting town.   

 Mr. Foley, the Tribune’s editor, refers to Lucy as Brenda Starr. Brenda Starr is the lead character in a comic strip about an adventurous female reporter. It debuted in 1940. Like Lucy, she had red hair.  Lucy says that she was called ‘Clare Boothe Lucy’ in high school, a pun on Clare Boothe Luce (1903-87), who was a writer and journalist in her own right, in addition to being married to Henry Luce, a powerful publishing magnate in the magazine industry.  Viv calls Lucy ‘Louella’ a reference to gossip columnist Louella Parsons. Lucy later invokes the name of Parsons’ chief rival, Hedda Hopper, another chronicler of Hollywood during the mid-twentieth century.

Critic’s Choice (1963)

Lucille Ball and Bob Hope play husband and wife theatre critics in the film based on the 1960 Broadway play of the same name written by Ira Levin.

“Lucy and the Soap Opera” (1966)

Curious to find out how “Camden Cove,” her favorite soap opera, will turn out, Lucy disguises herself in a number of outrageous get-ups to gain access to the show’s reclusive writer Peter Shannon (Jan Murray). When her efforts fail, she gets herself cast as an extra for a taping of the soap. 

“Lucy and Eva Gabor” (1968)

The author of a controversial novel (Eva Gabor) is in town and needs a quiet place to work so Harry volunteers Lucy's home. Naturally, it is anything but peaceful and far from quiet.  

Eva Von Graunitz (Gabor) is writing a follow-up novel to her successful “Valley of the Puppets”, a title that parodies Jacqueline Susann’s Valley of the Dolls (1966). 

“Lucy the Co-Ed” (1970)

Harry's old flame Gloria (Marilyn Maxwell) is in town to help produce a musical for their college alumni. They resurrect a show Harry wrote in 1928 and cast Lucy, Kim, and Craig in supporting roles. It was written by Harry during his senior year there in 1928. Previous episodes have stated that Harry both performed and wrote shows while in college. The title of his musical is “It's Always Do-Wacka-Do at Bullwinkle U”!

“Tipsy Through the Tulips” (1972)

Lucy is in charge of keeping a mystery novelist (Foster Brooks) sober long enough to finish his next book.  The book David Benton Miller dictates to Lucy is titled “The Killer Wore Wodden Shoes,” a murder mystery set in Holland. 

“Lucy and the Professor” (1973)

Lucy thinks Kim is interested in one of her college professors. She mistakenly believes it is Professor Dietrich (Murray Matheson), author of the best-selling book Sex and the College Girl. It is actually her much younger music professor John Kleindorf (John Davidson). 

“Lucy Goes on Her Last Blind Date” (1973)

Lucy dates eccentric Ben (Don Knotts) who is a prize-winning writer of verses for greeting cards!  

[travsd]

Jack Collins: Berle, Bewitched, and Bradys

Jack Collins (1918-2005), not to be confused with Jack Rollins, or a Tom Collins, was not a household name, but he was definitely a household face. People my age will know him as Mike’s boss Mr. Phillips on The Brady Bunch, for portraying no fewer than eight McMann & Tate clients on Bewitched, and for playing the mayor in The Towering Inferno (1974), one of his most high profile roles. How…

[hooked-on-elvis]

THE MILTON BERLE SHOW (Episode 10 -- aired 04/03/1956). Pictures (1) L-R: guitarist, Scotty Moore, drummer, DJ Fontana, singer Elvis Presley and bass player, Bill Black, perform on the deck of the USS Hancock aircraft carrier. (2) Elvis Presley and fans. Photos by Gerald Smith.

[cherryblossomshadow]

There's LITERALLY WWII propaganda, put out by the US military to raise money, that features drag. It's a musical comedy called This Is The Army. Every one on set, except for good ol Ronnie Reagan and handful of bonafide movie stars, is an active duty soldier and half of them are in heels and a dress. This is the Army was the highest grossing musical film for a solid decade. (comment courtesy of @our-lady-of--singularities)

[presleyspassions]

Elvis Presley performing on 'The Milton Berle Show'.

[omgthatdress]

At the height of his fame, Julian Eltinge was one of the most celebrated entertainers in the world. He starred on Broadway, toured all over the world, and even performed for England's King Edward VII.

Born William Julian Dalton, he moved to Butte, Montana when he was very young and spent most of his childhood there. The stories of how exactly he got into female impersonation are varied. According to legend, his father caught his teenage son performing in women's clothing in a saloon, and then sent him back to Boston. There, he joined the Boston Cadets Review at the Tremont Theater, and form there he worked his way to Broadway.

First appearing simply under the name "Eltinge," he presented a version of female impersonation that was different from the bawdy caricature that was popular at the time. He was graceful, elegant and beautiful, and presented himself as an actual woman. To use modern drag parlance, he was the OG fish queen. At the end of his act, he would remove his wig and reveal his true gender.

In 1911, his musical comedy play The Fascinating Widow, in which he played both male and female roles, launched him into superstardom. In 1914, he made headlines for the tremendous amounts of luggage he carried with him across his European tour, each suitcase stuffed full of elegant and elaborate gowns.

In his personal life, he adopted a hyper-masculine, rugged persona. He frequently got in fist fights with anyone who accused him of being a homosexual. Although he made public displays of "long engagements" with women, he never married and was not known to have had any romantic relationships in his life. After his death, many people who had once worked with him, including comedian Milton Berle, identified him as gay.

Although he appeared in several films, his career faded as movies replaced Vaudeville and laws were put in place to ban drag shows. In spite of this, Eltinge continued performing as much as he could, even until his death, collapsing on stage at Billy Rose's Diamond Horseshoe in New York City.

[mydaddywiki]

Forrest Tucker

Physique: Average Build Height: 6’ 4" (1.93 m)

Forrest Meredith Tucker (February 12, 1919 – October 25, 1986; aged 67) was an American actor in both movies and television who appeared in over a hundred film and TV productions. He appeared in films like The Yearling, Sands of Iwo Jima and The Abominable Snowman. Tucker is best remembered for his role of Sergeant Morgan O'Rourke on the television comedy series F Troop. Following the run of F Troop, he made a few more films and appeared often on television in shows like Gunsmoke, Marcus Welby, MD, Ironside, Fantasy Island and Love Boat.

Tall, ruggedly handsome with thick wavy hair and a feature Tucker nicknamed, “The Chief.” A cock that’s comparable to some of the “big guns” of old Hollywood that includes Milton Berle, Frank Sinatra, Sammy Davis Jr., Gary Cooper, Charlie Chaplin and Groucho Marx. I haven’t found any info stating size, but it has to be big from of the shots I’ve seen of him.

Born in Plainfield, Indiana, Tucker graduated from Washington-Lee High School, Arlington, Virginia, near Washington, D.C., in 1938, and, after joining the United States Cavalry, was stationed at Fort Myer in Arlington County, Virginia. Tucker's film career started well despite a perception in most Hollywood studios that blond men were not photogenic. He enlisted in the Army during World War II. After twenty years spent mainly in Westerns and action roles, he returned to his roots, showing versatility as a comedic and stage musical actor.

Tucker was married four times, having a thing for young ladies, fathering three children (one by his first wife and two by his third). Hail to The Chief I say! Apparently, Tucker struggled with a drinking problem that began to affect his performances in the later years of his career. Tucker died of throat cancer at the Motion Picture & Television Country House and Hospital on October 25, 1986.

RECOMMENDATIONS: F Troop (TV Series 1965–1967) The Crawling Eye (1958) The Abominable Snowman (1957) Sands of Iwo Jima (1949)

[wanderingmind867]

The Riddler has some of the tackiest fashion sense on that show, and I stand by that. I don't know if Frank Gorshin asked for this suit, but it's a tacky masterpiece. He really just captivates the screen. His creepy, dead stares. His maniacal laughter and bursts of giggling. His riddles (which often feel more like jokes). He was a commanding presence, despite being the main villain we see least.

We would not have modern Riddler without Frank Gorshin's portrayal in the 1966 TV show. You can thank him for the suit too. There was another ensemble featured in the second episode of the first season, "Smack in the middle." I think it's a fun look, and I am sad this was its only appearance.

I really enjoy how Gorshin moves and talks while he plays this role. It has a concentrated manic energy I really adore.

[citizenscreen]

Milton Berle became the permanent host on NBC's TV show "Texaco Star Theater" on September 21, 1948. It ran until 1956 and is the show that gave host Milton Berle the nickname "Mr. Television".

[suraemoon]

A Sunset in 1956

“Hot summer days, rock and roll. The way you'd play for me at your show. And all the ways I got to know your pretty face and electric soul.”

Elvis Presley x Reader

Warnings: An unclear/inaccurate timeline? Memphis in the Summer of 1956 is all we know. The Colonel has a few namedrops (sorry). I think that's it...just a lot of fluff and longing.

WC: 4.7k

A/N: This is my first time ever writing a fanfiction, I usually give up after the first paragraph, so just keep that in mind lol. Kind of a long introduction. A lot of thoughts. A love letter to 1956 Elvis and all those who fell in love with him. <3

--------------------------------------------------------

1956 - The year when most of the nation first became aware of the name, Elvis Presley.

His name could be well-heard uttered like a beautiful not-so-secret secret in hushed, giggling whispers of teenage girls passersby after the local high school let out its last bell. Adolescent girls across the nation were caught mesmerized, crowded around their family television sets, as if under a trance by the Southern young man shaking his hips to the vibrations and melodies of that sweet, exhilarating Rock n’ Roll music.

The girls felt something awaken in them after watching Elvis Presley on their screens late in the evening. A feeling that refused to sleep in the quiet hours of bedtime, a light that refused to dim under the moonlight, a wind of extreme feeling that rustled through the pages of their minds as they lay in bed.

Excitement…for something they wanted, but did not quite have. A feeling of sexual desire that was not supposed to be openly felt and that was so forbidden, yet beautiful that it became a high of elation.

The feelings wake up with them the next day, and love not only for the music taking the nation by storm but also as the man, seen to many, as the face of it all, leads them to the record stores for every new release. It led them to the shows where he put his all into bringing them to their feet and bringing all those emotions over the edge. How they wish they had the opportunity to be with him.

To be in your spot? Not exactly…they want more.

You hear his name loudly hollered and complained about by older folk, eager to express their extreme dissatisfaction and disgust with what was presented on the late-night television programs as “dancing”. How dare Milton Berle air something so vulgar?

There is an excitement in the air that they can’t feel, can’t understand. The snowflake melts as soon as it comes into contact with them. They do not care to look at its unique pattern anyway. As the water from the faucet bends effortlessly around their tired, life-worn hands, they fail to notice the rainbow made as the water catches the light of the sun. A rainbow in which you have had the privilege of getting to know every hue throughout your years of close friendship. 

This is unknown to most, especially an old man at your job asking if you listen to 'all that vulgar roll-and-rock stuff…or was it rock-and-roll? It's not worth it. You try your hardest to put on your customer service voice and politely laugh at the ignorance, knowing that your shift has just started and it's too early for the hassle of explaining Rock-n-Roll to someone not at all interested in learning.

His name, one you first heard when the teacher called out attendance in class all those years ago, was moving like a wave, and any unknowing individual would think he was running for office.

You can’t help but laugh softly at your own thoughts as you stare at the all-familiar Memphis surroundings through the glass of the car window. Suddenly, you are pulled back to reality by a firm squeeze of a hand that you had just noticed began to rest on your thigh. Then, you heard the signature Southern voice that had the whole nation going haywire.

“You alright, honey? You’re as quiet as a dormouse over there.”

Elvis looks over at you and slightly bites his lip as the car you two are sitting in, a new one he bought more recently, sits at a red light.

You smile at him, a slight hue of pink brushing your face, partly from embarrassment at being caught and taken out of your head like a fish out of the water and partly from your best friend’s hand still being on your thigh. You try to divert your focus from the shock of sudden attention and instead try to make a joke.

“Oh, I’m alright…Just in shock is all. I mean I’m in a car with Elvis Presley. I might faint.”

You playfully fan yourself with your hand as you enunciate his name as if it is displayed in big letters on a marquee shining bright on the busy streets of Broadway. A sight that you can easily imagine coming to fruition. You can’t help but laugh, breaking your already unconvincing, but in a way real, act.

“Mhm, sure." He hums, all too used to your teasing, “You sure it’s not just the heat? You can roll the window down a little more.”

He has that signature smile on his pretty face as he focuses his sky-blue eyes on the road before him. When the light turns green, he puts his foot on the gas. His right hand hesitates for a second, debating on whether it is still appropriate to continue to lay on your thigh. He ultimately decides to lift his hand.

“Don’t worry, I’m just kidding ya.” He already knew that. And you know that he knows that you just had to make sure. 

When he speaks again, he has the same excitement that he had when you two first got into the car as if it never left, because truly it never did disappear. As you stare at his beautiful eyelashes, enhanced by the mascara that you’ve helped him apply a few times before, you notice a look in his eyes. It’s like the Memphis road ahead of him reminds him of another long road, one that he does not quite know the destination of yet. Your eyes trace his side profile as he talks with a boyish smile on his face.

“Once we get to our spot, Imma tell you all about everything, Satnin. I will. Life’s gonna be even more crazy, if you can believe that. I mean the Colonel said the tours are gonna be…a-and the audiences will be even bigger. It's all up from here, honey, and I’ll explain it all to ya…I really will. I ain't gonna say it all complicated cause it might be a lot for your pretty head… I m- I mean it's hard for me to even…believe. Ya know?”

He says this all fast-paced, hurriedly as if he’s being timed to speak, but you have no problem keeping up with his words from years of conservations both long and short.

“I know, Elvis. I’m really excited for ya. I always am and you know that.”

“For us, honey. Me, you, and my parents.”

You look at him adoringly, admiring his apple-like cheek, his outfit the shirt of which had to be from Beale Street, and the beautiful way the sun reflected off of his face. The beautiful orange before sunset that put a comforting and pleasing softness on everything it touched wouldn’t be until a little bit, but when you were around Elvis, every minute felt golden.

There are a few minutes of silence perfectly comfortable due to so many years of knowing each other before Elvis pulls into the driveway of your home; the same cornflower blue house that your family has been living in and loving for as long as you can remember. His eyebrows furrow and a few creases appear between them, the same ones that you love to smoothen with your thumb whenever you get a chance, as he ponders for a moment,

“Your folks ain’t home?”

You responded nonchalantly, a little surprised that this had not already come up in conversation. But, considering the fact that so much has been going on in his life lately, it is not shocking that your parents not being home for a weekend didn’t wander into your discussions today.

“Nah. They left this morning for a wedding of some old friends of theirs. They were telling me over dinner yesterday….”

You and Elvis get out of the car, doors closing in synchronization as you continue, 

“The couple getting married have been friends their whole lives…I think the guy was already divorced…or was it that the lady already has a kid?”

As you go on trying to carefully recall what your parents had told you about their weekend trip while you were scarfing down Mama’s delicious home-cooked dish at dinner yesterday, you fail to notice Elvis taking something out of the car’s leather back seat and slipping it into the back pocket of his pants.

“I don't know, Maybe both…But they realized recently that they’re made for each other. Getting married in Nashville so my parents are spending the weekend.”

Elvis focuses his attention on you and nods, letting you know that he is listening to your story, “I’m guessing your brother is still out on his work trip too, which is crazy, 'cause that means…”

Elvis looks at you with a playful gleam in his eyes, one that lets you know that you’re about to be teased, “They trusted you with the house.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You giggle, feigning offense with your voice.

“I’m plenty responsible for taking care of ole' Blueberry.” You put your hands on your hips in confidence as you look up at your house and the spot on the second-floor siding that needs to be repainted. Whatever happened to it anyway? Your “Rosie the Riveter”-worthy confidence takes a back seat and your hands leave your hips to rest at your sides as you ponder that question.

“Well…” Elvis elongates his word as he leans his arm on your shoulder, tilting his head slightly.

You turn your head up towards him, already knowing the situation that he is referring to. “You really won’t let me get away with the ‘almost burning the house down thing’ huh? I was trying to do a good deed! What can I say, I’m a good girl at heart.”

“Yeah, you were trying alright, and then the surprise ‘Happy Anniversary’ cookies for your folks caught fire.”

“Stop teasing me.” You whine with a small laugh as you take his hand in yours and lead him to your backyard. “Let's go out back before the sun sets on us.”

You can’t help but let your mind wander back to the cookie incident as you walk hand in hand to your signature spot in the backyard, looking down at your feet in the green grass,

“Can you believe that after I burnt my cookies, David brought out his ‘Happy Anniversary’ cupcakes? Totally upstaged me.”

“He’s the golden child. Unlike your cookies…which weren’t golden at all. They were actually tar black.” 

You can not help but laugh at his cheesy joke as you two sit on the lush grass under the big tree in your backyard. Its leaves are still green from the energizing air of summer, their bright beauty contrasting with the broken wood swing hanging from the tree’s strongest branch with now only one rope, the other one laying on the ground as if having given up a long time ago. The swing has been broken for so long that it's almost like decor at this point. For years, this tree has been the spot where you and Elvis chose to spend long, but never dragging, hours talking to each other and listening to listening to records. Whenever the weather allowed for it that is.

This was the spot where all those years ago, Elvis told you all about his favorite superhero, Captain Marvel Jr., the very first time he came for a playdate at your house. You had convinced Elvis to let you play alongside him as a superhero after fulfilling your role as the damsel in distress for a few rounds of the game. Well, being alongside him as Captain Marvel Jr’s sidekick; it would have to do, you thought contently. The two of you had run around with towels as capes for hours, stopping crime in the confines of your gated backyard which your young minds had imagined was actually all of Memphis.

Elvis went back to his house right before sunset that evening with grass and dirt stains on his clothes that matched your own. This was something that you two kids had also shared with your Mama’s new towels left scattered in the yard, which she wasn’t too thrilled about. A smile stayed lingering on your face as you were tasked with doing the laundry that night.

Those old times thrive not only in your memories but also in the roots of the old tree. Does it smile when you and Elvis still choose to sit under it time and time again? The age of the tree is unknown due to the fact that it was already full grown when your family moved in all those years ago. Maybe love has kept it up and standing despite any storm that might come blowing its way.

A few minutes of conversation under the tree remained similar in structure and topic to a lot of your discussions with Elvis recently. 1956 has been a huge year for Elvis and you have never minded him being the center of attention because of how much you truly and wholeheartedly adore him.

“Isn’t this all amazing, Elvis? We used to dream about this stuff for you. I mean I’ve always known that you’re great but….I mean, remember when we were just kids listening to records? Now people go out and buy records that say Elvis Presley.”

Elvis looks up at the white, pillowy clouds passing by. New clouds float through the sky but their all familiar patterns and shapes never lose their comfort. Someone looking up could easily be convinced that the clouds they see are the same ones that just passed by the last time that person had gotten the inclination to look. That would mean they weren’t paying close enough attention.

“I remember being in grade school and my audiences only had my lil Satnin sitting crisscrossed apple sauce with those big wide eyes.” He looks at you and you get a glance of the smile lines gifted from Heaven.

You run a hand through his dyed, jet-black hair and you smile to yourself as you think back to the sandy-haired boy who had just moved to Memphis from Tupelo. The one who on the first day of school was placed in the seat next to you by the teacher. You remember how his leg bounced up and down in anxiety under his desk on the first day; his pencil tapping in what seemed to be the rhythm of a song. 

You remember the cheeky grin of the sandy-haired boy who had just moved from Tupelo to Memphis. The boy who talked really fast except for when he was singing…something that he loved to do. It was hard to miss that Elvis was a lover of music because he made it known. 

“I was early to the party, wasn’t I?”

“V.I.P.” He says nonchalantly as if your exceptionality is obvious. 

“Now you got thousands, millions who wanna listen to ya. A bunch of wide eyes on Elvis Presley.”

“Mhm...but your eyes are still my favorite. Always will be.”

Your eyes saw the butterfly come out of the cocoon. Your eyes saw the fidgets, the smiles, the tears, and all the little habits that made Elvis, Elvis. But did you feel the feeling? A shakiness in your legs as you watched him dance and shake his? A jump in your heart at the first riff of his guitar? A slightly parted mouth as you watched him sing from those beautifully plump lips? Of course. Oh, how you feel it all.

Girls nationwide are experiencing what you have been feeling for years now. It’s just that they have the ability to do things that you aren't quite in the position to do...express your attraction for the world to hear, scream for dear life at his performances, rant and rave to your best friend about the handsomeness and charm of Elvis Presley. All these things you could not do due to the fact that your best friend is the man himself.

He mumbles a little, expressing random thoughts out loud, “We need to keep doing those guitar lessons with you too. I know it’s been a while but I’d hate to lose our progress. You’ve really got something.”

You hum in response, “I think I was just starting to get the hang of it. Whenever ya find the time I’d love for ya to teach me more.”

“Need to get you a guitar. Something real nice so you can practice when I’m not around.”

“I don’t need anything 'real nice'. Maybe once you get a new one, I can borrow your old one. I don’t need anything new.”

You’d hate for Elvis to spend his money on getting you your own guitar. Would it be spectacular to have your own? You’d love it and play it any chance you got. But to have him go out and get one for you would be unnecessary. You’re sure you can save up the money for one with some paychecks.

As you think about possibly getting your own guitar, Elvis has already moved on from that topic and starts talking about something else that has popped up in his thoughts. He was truly lightning in a bottle, a constant, sometimes unpredictable spark of electricity.

He gets that special smile again and you know that he’s thinking about the future.

“I’m gonna take you international. Maybe one day I’ll perform under the Eiffel Tower and I’ll get ya all of the French clothes that gals like cause for some reason the French ones are better than the Memphis ones…Or maybe I’ll perform in one of those fancy palaces in England for the Queen.

Imagine that. You think she’d like me?”

You smile as you imagine the Queen of England at an Elvis Presley performance. I mean if she’s like most young women…

”I don’t think she’d be opposed.”

“Might go against some protocol by having me there. It's gotta be real strict for the royals in London. You know how the knives and the forks are supposed to go on certain sides of the plate? All that rich folk stuff?"

He sighs as if words aren’t enough to describe all of his dreams just right, “I wanna do it all. Go everywhere. I don’t want to be confined to one place…no reason to be.”

As his fingers reach to play with a strand of your hair, a promise that Elvis made to you a few years ago pops back into your consciousness, like the younger-version of you blew a bubble and sent it to the front of your brain,

‘You’ve still yet to take me to New York.”

He chuckles, “I’ll take ya to the top of the Empire State Building, honey. Once you grace the streets of New York maybe they’d even resculpt the Statue of Liberty to look like ya. It would be a great sight to see…Imagine all of those tourists lining up to see your pretty face like you’re Miss America. Would leave a good impression, that’s for sure.” He lays the strand of hair back perfectly where he found it.

You giggle and a blush of pink spreads across your cheeks, “Elvis stop.” 

He shrugs at you, “Just telling the truth.”

As if the heavens heard him utter the words “a great sight” and God himself wanted to show the world one of the most beautiful sights he ever created, like an artist shows off his masterpiece, you notice how hues of orange, pink, and purple start to fill up the sky above you. The clouds blend into the mural; even though they have been moving contently through shades of calming blue all day, it is as if they halt to be gladly used in the greater canvas. They are happy to be used to enhance the beauty of the sun, for they know that the light makes them shine. 

A golden light falls over Elvis’ features as it does yours. A gift for both of you to admire on each other.

Elvis breaks the beautiful silence gently, stuttering a little over his words,

“Speaking of New York, I-I got you something real special. I was there and they had this store, it was all fancy…and I saw this. Reminded me of you.”

He holds out a small, thin box for you to take and you notice how his long, slender fingers seem to shake a little bit as if this moment had been anticipated all day.

“You got me a gift, Elvis? What’s the occasion? It ain’t my birthday yet.” 

A confused look graces your features like the sun paints the sky. Unaware of the way he takes the time to admire you and the beautiful, golden light of dusk as it kisses your features, you think carefully as to why Elvis has given you a gift. Your mind flips through a calendar. 

"Stop worrying your pretty little head, doll. Does there need to be an occasion?"

You hum in response and hesitantly decide to take the black box into your hand before beginning to open it gently.

"It ain't gonna jump out at ya, Honey." Elvis whispers quietly, playfulness replacing nervousness in his voice.

"Be quiet." You whisper back.

After opening up the lid of the box you gasp, "Elvis!"

Your lips slightly part in shock and you smile as you lay your eyes on a beautiful gold bracelet with small diamonds adorning it. After a few seconds of admiring the beauty of the piece, you realize for a second time now that it's yours to keep. You quickly look at him with a face of slight worry.

A smile remains on his face from watching your eyes light up at the sight of his gift.

"Ain’t no way this is for me, Elvis. You can’t. It must’ve been so expensive an-and I really don’t need it. I don’t want you spending your money on me, especially not on fancy stuff like this…I ain’t one of those Hollywood girls.” You ramble on, closing the box and trying to push it back into his hands. You place his pretty hands around the box as if it is too expensive for you to even hold.

Elvis breathes out from his nose and licks his lips as if slightly entertained by your reaction. His voice stays soft.

“Nuh uh, Satnin…You always try to do this when I give ya something nice. You could win a Nobel Prize and you would still have trouble accepting a congratulations card from me. It’s for you, honey. I got it just for ya. You don’t gotta be one of those Hollywood girls to have some nice jewelry.” He pushes the box back into your smaller hands.

“Elvis…”

“Let me pamper ya. Let me spoil ya. I need to. I’ve known you for so long.” He says almost as a beg, a soft plead.

You nod small and then suddenly give him a huge hug, the force pushing him back a little. His eyes widen for a split second, not having expected this big of a gesture so quick, but he relaxes as you fall onto him.

When you lift your head from the crook of his neck, you blush at how close your faces have happened to end up. A matching blush falls over his features and you can hear his soft breaths as they come out. His blue eyes are perfect…absolutely gorgeous. They are the only stable blue in the sky’s changing hour. You always take any opportunity you can to admire Elvis’ beauty, but now, being practically on top of him…you can see everything closer and more intimately than usual. His hand gently rests on the small of your back as you sit in his lap.

Now, both of you are at a standstill when it comes to what happens next. Think of a pen picking up from the page and pondering what else to write while in the middle of an important sentence, one that might change the story. You want so badly to kiss him, to show him how much you adore him in a way you never have before. The only time you have gotten to feel his soft lips on yours so far has been at night when you dream. Two soft pillows, one under your head as you sleep peacefully under the moonlight and one being his lips kissing you, your imagination providing you with what you so desperately need.

His eyes have the same apprehension as yours as if the two of you are thinking similar things, going through similar battles of emotion in your all too similar but at the same time very different brains. 

You know you can’t kiss him. It will complicate an already bustling life. Elvis can’t have a girlfriend. That is what he told you the Colonel said when you asked him why he ended things with Dixie. You remember how Elvis paced around the room that day. Colonel Parker got rid of Dixie…what if he got rid of you too? You can’t lose your Elvis, you won’t lose your Elvis. You know deep down that you can’t let your feelings hold him back from the greatness he is destined for, even if it means a state of eternal longing. The haunting question “What if?” forever stuck in your head. Oh, how some days your mind asks you to be selfish.

The look in his eyes makes your lips go for his cheek instead, missing the beautiful, pillowy target that your heart’s arrow was aiming for. He relaxes into your comforting kiss, long black lashes on true display as his eyes shut. 

When you pull back and giggle at the mark of pink lipstick making itself comfortable on his face, he opens his eyes to catch a glimpse of your smile. 

“Thank you. Do yo-you wanna…want me to help you put the bracelet on?”

You nod, leaving the comfy spot on his lap to instead sit back on the grass next to him. The same grass long abandoned after you had the opportunity to be even closer to the one you love so much. It wasn’t empty though, the black box still sat from where you placed it to hug Elvis, opened and waiting patiently to be remembered. Its velvet interior stood out greatly against the grass.

You grab the box and take the bracelet out from where it lay, handing it to Elvis. Elvis takes the bracelet and looks at it quietly for a moment. He hums as if still satisfied with the choice he made while in the jewelry store in New York. What looks beautiful while sitting under the artificial light of the jewelry container looks even more gorgeous in the all-familiar setting of Memphis under the sun’s calming light. He knows for a fact that what looks beautiful sitting next to many other expensive jewelry pieces, will look even more gorgeous on the wrist of his Satnin.

Elvis softly wraps his hand around your wrist to be able to guide it to lay on his leg. He takes a moment to unclasp the bracelet and then gently wraps it around your wrist. When he reclasps the bracelet, you hold your hand up and smile admiringly.

You look back at him gratefully, eyes full of love, “Thank you, Elvis. It’s absolutely gorgeous.”

He smiles at you adoringly, “No worries, honey, I’m really happy that you like it. You deserve all the good things, you really do….And you wanna know what else?”

“Hm?” 

“No matter what happens with all these changes…there is one thing that isn’t gonna change and that's this. That’s us.” 

Change. How scary it can be.

You want the relationship between you and Elvis to change, blossom, and thrive like how the hydrangeas you planted last spring can change colors with pH but still remain so beautiful. Oh, how sometimes you wish that there was just a slight change: a minute more of hand-holding, passionate kisses reoccurring throughout long days, and nights spent loving in a way that you never have before. But, you aren’t one to gamble, and change can also mean sadness, heartbreak, and loneliness. You stay content and grateful for the one-of-a-kind beauty of a friendship well-loved.

“We’ll always have each other, Elvis. Always have and always will.” 

You smile wide and lay your head on his shoulder as you two continue to look at the sun moving lower and lower into the horizon before disappearing.

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