#286: The Edge Of Reality
History is full of unlikely encounters and bedfellows, and
the 20th century was certainly no exception. If you can believe that the sex-goddess
Marilyn Monroe would not only bed, but marry, Arthur Miller (who was about as
sexy as a stamped bat) then you’d believe almost anyone would like anyone. John F Kennedy had a strong liking for Frank
Sinatra. George Bernard Shaw was great
chums with Harpo Marx, Salvador Dali liked Alice Cooper. But surely the oddest of them all, and the
most unexplainable, would have to be the meeting of President Richard Milhous
Nixon and Elvis Aaron Presley.
The beauty of fame in the 20th century is that it
was generally built around some form of charisma mixed with at least a dash of
talent. Sonny Tufts might not have won
any acting awards, but he was entertaining to look at, and still is, in his
movies. The Legendary Stardust Cowboy
made music that’d make your ears bleed, but as a songwriter he was good enough
to have his songs covered by David Bowie.
Jimmy Page, Charlie Chaplin, Bill Wyman and many others might have been
classed as paedophiles and placed on a sex offenders list but for the fact that
they had some amazing talents – although, with Bill, people are still trying to
work it out. Ju Suis Un Rock Star my
arse! The criteria of talent and/or
charisma went out of the window once ‘reality’ television and the internet
became massive, and it’s no surprise that both phenomena are linked, but still
fame is more fleeting these days than ever – remember Sara Marie and her bum
dance? She was everywhere back in the
day, doing book signings, miming at shopping malls – the lot. Last I heard she was flogging shoes in
Sydney. Collette is ringing the dinner
bell at a zoo. The bird from Dollar now
sells Chiko Rolls at Circular Quay. Pick
any fringe band or actor and they’re probably driving cabs now. Once the fame fades we generally only hear of
people now when the door to a public toilet is opened and they’re busted or
they top themselves. Even then people
merely say, “Tsk tsk, who?”
Fame in the 21st century is now measured by how
many people talk about you. The original
stupid spoiled whore, Paris Hilton, is famous for merely being famous. She can’t act, she certainly can’t sing – but
in her defence I’d rather listen to any of her warblings than have to suffer
through the murderous duet that is Ozzy and Kelly Osbourne slaughtering Black
Sabbath’s Changes, trust me, don’t do it – and Hilton’s main claim to fame
seems to be built around a rather poor quality home made porn tape, in which
she reveals herself to be about as sexually desirable as a cracked coffee
cup. Even the Mimi McPherson tape is a
better waste of time than Paris, if nothing else the quality is better and Mimi
is far better looking naked than Hilton ever will be, and Mimi hasn’t got man
hands. Kim Kardashian is much the same –
what do these people do? Other than have
fake marriages and whip the girls out – and they’re probably fake too – and
throw tantrums on camera. If you want
fame them get some media, place a low quality porno on-line and then arrange
your own reality show. You don’t need
talent; you just need to be out there.
Tori Spelling anyone? How many
books has she signed her name to? I know
actual writers who’ll never get a contract, but Tori can tape record some
babbling, hire some hack to jot it down and there it is, on sale for $1.99 on
the bargain table at any bookstore, and trust me, they’ve got boxes of the shit
out the back, generally they’re used to level tables and chairs.
Which brings me back to Elvis and Nixon. In 1970 Elvis sat down, on a plane, and
decided that he wanted to meet Nixon.
Elvis was worried about the growing counter-culture that existed in
America at the time, and those damned kids with their damned rock and roll and
heavy and also metal. Those
bastards. People had stopped listening
to Elvis years ago, he’d ceased to be relevant when he got out of the army and
began making some of the worst films you’re ever likely to see. For a guy who was once touted as the next
James Dean, Elvis was reduced to singing songs to bulls and pretending he was a
better option than Christ for nubile nuns.
Elvis movies make Adam Sandler’s early movies look like Oscar winners, and
they all followed the same basic plot – Elvis wanders into town/carnival/race
track/village/ beach, meets a girl, runs into trouble with the
authorities/parents/anyone, has a fight, gets run out of town/carnival/race
track/village/ beach, changes his mind, comes back to town/carnival/race track/village/
beach, has another fight, wins the girl and everyone lives happily ever
after. Insert names and songs here. The longer his Hollywood career went on the
more insipid and less relevant he became.
While people were expanding the boundaries of music and creating some of
the most enduring sounds we know, Elvis was busily singing songs like Clambake,
There’s No Room To Rumba In A Sports Car and Dominick The Impotent Bull. By 1970 Elvis was reduced to playing Vegas,
eating obscene amounts of junk food and pumping his body full of whatever drugs
he could find. And still he sang
shit. Sure, there were some gems amongst
them, but for every Suspicious Minds, In The Ghetto or Edge Of Reality (as
close as Elvis got to being psychedelic) he recorded at least ten times more
shit that you’d be hard pressed to remember, and if you could then you’d not
want to. Elvis hated the Beatles, the
Stones, the Who and the Doors. He used
to swear when people mentioned Led Zeppelin, if only because Robert Plant and
co, and many more, made better music and took sales away from him.
Elvis’s letter was illuminating to say the least. “The drug culture, the hippie elements, the
SDS, Black Panthers, etc. do not consider me as their enemy,” he wrote, “or as
they call it the establishment.” There
was a reason for that – the drug culture, the hippies, the SDS and Black
Panthers didn’t consider Elvis as an enemy, they didn’t consider him to be
anything, let alone a threat. He was
just another drug addicted fat man, old before his time, living off past
glories. There was a method to Elvis’s
madness though – he didn’t just want to meet Nixon, he wanted to be an uncover
nark! “I can and will do more good if I
were made a Federal Agent at Large,” he went on to say, “and I will help out by
doing it my way through my communications with people of all ages.” I don’t know about communication with people
of all age, but that was Elvis. But if
you think that was funny then you’ve ain’t seen nothing yet. “I have done an in-depth study of drug
abuse,” wrote Elvis, in possibly the most unintentionally ironic line ever
written, “and Communist brainwashing techniques and I am right in the middle of
the whole thing where I can and will do the most good.”
Elvis had indeed done ‘in-depth studies of drug abuse’, and
most of it was first hand as Elvis had his own, massive, drug problem. Elvis, by 1970, was addicted to any number of
pain killers and any number of uppers and downers – in effect anything he could
bash down his throat to get him through the shows, and through the days. Elvis’s study of drug abuse was done by
reading, looking at himself and those around him. If ever there was a crime it was that people allowed
Elvis to kill himself, slowly. It wasn’t
that he was merely no longer relevant; by 1975 he was a wasted, bloated joke, a
shell of a man, just waiting to die.
Sad, but true. Remember Elvis pre
1959, or by his ‘Comeback Special’ – that’s Elvis, everything else is merely an
Elvis impersonator. I know people who
are convinced that Elvis didn’t die and that he was replaced in his coffin by a
wax dummy for the showing. I tend to
think that he was replaced by a wax dummy in around 1974 and nobody noticed.
It’s doubtful that Nixon knew who Elvis was, or what he
did, or that Nixon even cared. He might have had some
understanding of Elvis, but Elvis to Nixon would have been like any of the
Backstreet Boys that isn’t Justin Timberlake to President Obama – the name
might ring a slight bell, but he’d buggered if he knew why without a detailed
briefing. Before anyone could get to
Nixon they had to get through the advisors, and a memo was duly written
up. The memo, from Presidential Assistant
Dwight Chapin, led to the second hilarious act for all of this. In the memo Chapin suggested several options,
from trying to find some form of a badge to give Elvis through to this
suggestion, “In addition, if the President wants to meet with some bright young
people outside of the Government, Presley might be a perfect one to start
with,” to which Nixon’s Chief Of Staff, Harry Haldeman responded, “You must be
kidding.” Clearly Harry knew something
that Chapin didn’t know, and I’d better dollars to deutschmarks that Harry was
aware that the FBI has also been contacted by Elvis. In their files the FBI had noted that Elvis
had been the subject of extortion attempts, was the subject of an on-going
paternity suit that, “…during the height of his popularity during the
latter part of the 1950’s and early 1960’s his gyrations while performing were
the subject of considerable criticism by the public and comment in the
press.” The FBI weren’t all that willing
for Elvis to meet J Edgar Hoover (now that would have been a meeting of the
minds) due to Elvis’s long hair and bizarre dress. It’s also very likely that both the CIA and
FBI had also told Haldeman is that Elvis had an on-going drug issue, so the
very thought of Elvis working with the White House and Nixon was a no-no, plus
Elvis didn’t want publicity, for obvious reasons – he wanted to be a top secret
undercover nark.
Elvis finally met Nixon at 12:30pm on Monday, 21st
of December, 1970. Before this Elvis had
caused a bit of a stir by bringing a gift into the White House for Nixon in the
form of a gun. Bringing weapons near the
President has always been somewhat of a no-no, but Elvis made his case and was
allowed to bring his unloaded gun for Nixon, along with a pile of signed
photos, which Nixon promptly gave to his daughters and other staffers. The meeting started with the obligatory photo
shoot featuring Elvis and Nixon and then moved on to more serious matters. Elvis cracked out his law enforcement medals
and badges, clearly to the amusement of Nixon, who was probably wondering who
this long haired hippy was in front of him.
After hearing that Elvis was playing in Vegas, Nixon commented that
playing Vegas was difficult – somehow I think that even speaking to Elvis was
difficult for Nixon, but the thought of Nixon on stage, singing Hound Dog is
just a bit too funny for thought. In his
conversation Elvis brought up what would become a recurring theme for him – his
hatred for the Beatles.
By the mid 1960s Elvis was a forgotten man for youth,
replaced by four men from Liverpool, Lennon, McCartney, Harrison and Starr: The
Beatles. Everywhere Elvis looked it was
Beatlemania, and the sight of it must have driven him to tears. It wasn’t that he was unfamiliar with it – at
his peak Elvis had just as much attention as the Beatles, and just as many
young women, it was more that the Beatles had something that Elvis had long
lost – credibility and relevance. More
people listened, and followed, the Beatles than did Elvis, and while the
Beatles were being progressive with their music – and let’s be frank here, in
1962 they recorded Love Me Do and in 1965 they’d moved to Tomorrow Never Knows
and in 1966-67 they’d moved to Sgt Pepper, a landmark in any era. Conversely Elvis was stuck in Hollywood
making his crap movies, recording crap songs and being about as relevant as a
low rent Tab Hunter. The Beatles were
making millions and playing to millions, Elvis was making hundreds of thousands
and unable to get a gig thanks to his utterly incompetent manager. Ricky Nelson was probably more relevant than
Elvis when the Beatles were peaking.
Elvis hated how the Beatles had made money in America and
then left. “Presley indicated that he
thought the Beatles had been a real force for anti-American spirit,” read a
report of the meeting, “He said that the Beatles came to this country, made
their money, and then returned to England where they promoted an anti-American
theme.” I’ve been wracking my brains to
recall where any of the Beatles ever promoted an anti-American theme. If anything they promoted an anti-touring
theme, that being that they were tired of the mindless routine of touring and
playing to masses of screaming girls, who were so loud that the music was
secondary, at best. Elvis’s anti-Beatle
stance reportedly surprised Nixon, but, being Nixon, he nodded in agreement,
probably still wondering who this fat hippy with the sideburns and funny
glasses was doing in his office. At
lunch time even. Nixon them warmed up to
his favourite theme – protests! According
to Nixon those who protested used drugs and those who used drugs were
anti-American, not the Beatles. Young people, bloody hippies, they all used violence,
drugs dissent and protest – it was all the same. If you were young and didn’t have a crew-cut
then you were a hippy. Elvis also warmed
to the theme of drugs and hippies, he mentioned his drug studies but didn’t
mention how much of it had been first hand study, and made mention of the fact
that he could infiltrate groups of hippies and rat them all out to the Feds,
man. Nixon gave Elvis a badge and
expressed his concern that Elvis, “…retain his credibility.” That Nixon, he was a card, always handy with a
joke. And with that the meeting was over
and Elvis was ushered out, Nixon probably sat down, had some food with his
advisors and laughed his head off at the ridiculous looking hippy who wanted to
be a nark. Go for it Elvis, report
everyone. As Tom Jones said later, if
Elvis was going to turn in all the drug users he knew, he’d have to start with
Elvis.
Elvis wasn’t finished there.
He’d also contacted the FBI with the same offer, that he be given some
form of credentials so he could rat people out.
He also wanted a meeting with Hoover.
That was never going to happen.
In 1970 it was easier to meet Nixon than Hoover, and Hoover wanted
nothing to do with the hippy in the bizarre capes and glasses, and those
sideburns. There was no harm though in
giving Elvis a tour, after all that was what most celebrities got, and Elvis
was duly shown around on New Years Eve of 1970.
The FBI reported the tour and meeting back to Hoover, as was the way,
and the first thing they noted was that Elvis appeared to be somewhat bizarre
in appearance. This wouldn’t have been
that surprising as the FBI of 1970 was straighter than the White House and
anything other than a suit, tie and buzz cut was bizarre. Elvis, in his multi-coloured outfits,
complete with cape, funky sun glasses, long hair and what appeared to be
badgers attached to his cheeks would have caused shockwaves in FBI
Headquarters.
Elvis was proud of the badge that Nixon had given him which
identified him as an agent of the Bureau of Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs, a
meaningless notion at best. Again Elvis
rallied against the Beatles, despite the fact that he often sang Beatles songs
in concert. This time Elvis was adamant
that the Beatles had, “…laid the groundwork of many of the problems we are
having with young people by their filthy unkempt appearances and suggestive
music while entertaining in this country during the early and middle
1960s.” It might be argued that Elvis
was getting his Lennon mixed up with his Jagger, or even his Burdon, but we may
never know, indeed Elvis probably didn’t know either. Elvis then went to state that the Smother
Brothers and Jane Fonda had a lot to answer for. In another ironic statement, Elvis, who
seemed to be clear of drugs for this visit, was described as being a sober,
clear minded young man, despite his manner of dress.
Nixon went on to other things, and people. He met Sammy Davis Jr, a meeting that did
more harm to Davis than good, and one that he would have to justify until his
dying day. Nixon could care less, he had
other things to worry about, like the Vietman war, and a little thing called
Watergate, which led to his eventual downfall.
At one point in the mid ‘70s, Nixon was voted the most hated man of the
20th century, beating out other luminaries such as Hitler and
Stalin. That takes an effort. It would take over a decade after Nixon
resigned from office in 1974 to regain some of his own credibility, but he did
just that, by remaining low-key, but becoming a voice. Nixon went a long way to
rehabilitate himself, and at the end of his life, in 1994, he was viewed more
as a curiosity than an outright villain.
Checkers be damned, Nixon was the bogyman of a generation: “Eat your
peas or Nixon will get you!” Watergate
became a catchphrase, made a lot of careers and made a lot of people
millionaires. Nixon did his own bit, but
went his own way, and rarely, if ever, mentioned Watergate.
Elvis had just over six more years to live, before
succumbing to his toxic cocktail of drugs, physical abuse and junk food. Towards the end Elvis was a cartoon, a
caricature of a man who would wander out on stage, mumble his way through a few
songs, throw a few sweaty towels out to his blue rinse audience, stagger off
and collapse backstage in a pool of sweat.
There’s a lot to celebrate about Elvis, and each time a documentary is
made, or another of Priscilla’s TV specials, we’re reminded that, once, Elvis
was a God amongst men, and he strode the Earth, bestowing his gifts amongst us. However there’s also a lot to mourn about
Elvis, how towards the end of his life he was abandoned by the very same people
who would later make fortunes from their associations, how he was under the
spell of a few Svengalis, from his manager, Col Tom Parker, an illegal
immigrant who refused to allow Elvis out of the country for fear of losing
control over him, to Dr Nick, who happily supplied drug after drug, and how
those who could have saved him didn’t and instead fed his addictions happily. As long as the money flowed freely, people
were happy to allow Elvis to deteriorate to the point where it was far too late
to save him. His awards, his badges, his
wanting to be an uncover nark, his wanting to believe that he was still The
King of Rock and Roll, it all counted for nothing when he expired, on the
toilet, in the most undignified manner ever.
Elvis had long since become what he wanted to rally against, sadly he
could never see it. Although they ran
parallel, Nixon was able to realise his failings and deal with them, Elvis was
just too blind, and more is the shame.
But, for a shining few minutes, over forty years ago, one of
the most unexpected, and improbably meetings of them all took place – The King
met The President.
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