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Most recent 20 results returned for keyword: Blue Jeans (Search this on MAP)

https://plus.google.com/116458746573227577076 William David Hilton : KANDACE AND THE HANGMAN Part One Lyndsie Branch & Wm.Hilton [writing in progress] In the utility ...
KANDACE AND THE HANGMAN
Part One
Lyndsie Branch & Wm.Hilton

[writing in progress]

In the utility room of the Dead Oak gas station Kandace put on an oversized down jacket and a sock cap.

She pulled back on the latch of the cooler door and went into forty-degree temperature where, on her right, were racks of beer and soda, and on her left a shelf of boxed deli sandwiches that had been delivered that morning.

Through the frosty glass of the display doors she could see Elmer at the check-out counter adjusting his camo field cap as a tall skinny brunette in frayed black leather and chains sauntered in, chewing gum like a cow with a mouthful of hay and looking around at the shelves of snack items.

Behind her was a big shaven-headed potbellied man with a long stringy beard going grey. He wore a sleeveless denim vest over a black t-shirt's grinning skull, baggy jeans, and cowboy boots. He said something to Elmer. A wad of bills was tossed onto the counter.

Bikers, Kandace thought.

The fat one went out, and a taller better-built one came in. Through the thickness of the glass Kandace heard him call to the lanky leather-clad girl, "The hot'n spicy bags, Moonpie."

He came straight to the beer and deli section of the cooler like a man who knew his business. His figure was blurred by the frost but Kandace could see that he wore a dark brown bandanna, a rough twilled-cotton shirt of faded green, his brawny arms bared to the shoulders and lightly scrawled with tattoos, taut blue jeans with a hole in the left knee, and black boots scuffed at the toes. She did not make out his face until he opened the display door directly in front of her.

"Can I help you?" she said in a lilting Southern accent.

He pulled his head back and straightened up, smiling as though he had come upon an unexpected windfall. She saw now that he had dark blue eyes of a curious smoldering quality, a wraparound beard, close-trimmed, grey along the square jawline and a rusty brown in the chin and mustache. "Depends," he said. "How old are you?"

"Sixteen next week."

"I'll have to edit my demands, then. Since I happen to be in Florida today, let's have two six-packs of Gator Premium. And five of those roast beef subs."

"Anything else?"

"Maybe next week," he said, and broadened his smile at sight of her own cobalt blue eyes crinkling at the corners as she returned his smile and fingered a sleek blond braid resting along her cheek.

"I'll bring the beer to the check-out for you," she said, reaching for the sandwiches. "Five of the roast beef subs, did you say? Here. You can manage those, I think."

He closed the glass door and Kandace was quick to take off her bulky jacket outside the cooler, setting the six-packs on the steel table by the sinks and straightening the bright orange pullover that she hated more than ever now. She flung off the sock cap and smoothed her bangs.
1 hour ago - Via Community - View -
https://plus.google.com/111881621678197810871 George Walker : Name: Logan Shadowheart Age:19  Gender: Male  Species:  School Position: Student.  STATISTICS  Intelligence...
Name: Logan Shadowheart Age:19  Gender: Male  Species:  School Position: Student.  STATISTICS  Intelligence: 95/100  Agility: 91/100  Strength: 100/100  Weapons:  Speed: 100/100  Determination: 100/100  Confidence: 100/100  Looks: 0/100  LOOKS . Eye color:blue and green  Hair color:  Skin Tone: Tan. Clothes: a hoodie,blue jeans and converse sneakers sometimes  Hair Type: *Ponytail,   Accessories:a chross necklace,male earings,a watch. Height: 6 foot 8 inches Weight: 145 lbs PERSONAL INFORMATION  Personality:  Outgoing,hillarious,etc.Birthday:  Relationships:  Family:  Biography (Bio): His family was killed when he was young
2 hours ago - Via Community - View -
https://plus.google.com/118293798125491518140 eye.less roleplayer. : ()bio() ()percy jackson rp () Name :Nico di angelo. hair color:Dark blackish brown. eye color:Brown...
()bio()
()percy jackson rp ()
Name :Nico di angelo.
hair color:Dark blackish brown.
eye color:Brown.
appearance:Likes to keep hes hair dark,wears a black hoddie most of the time,shaggy hair,ripped blue jeans,headphones.
sexual operation:Bisexual.
age:15.
father: hades ()goggle it ()  
mother:binca di angelo.
likes:Emo boys,emo girls,redheads,blondes,punk rock music,hard rock,sad songs.
powers:Dark magic,shadow travel.
personality:Stubborn,rude,mean,sad,funny,shy,doesn't like to talk.
back story:e-error shutting down.
occupation :Travels places...,camp half blood.
~~file closed~~  
3 hours ago - Via Community - View -
https://plus.google.com/114086587624231937881 carlos pedrotti : Lana Del Rey - Blue Jeans: http://youtu.be/JRWox-i6aAk
Lana Del Rey - Blue Jeans: http://youtu.be/JRWox-i6aAk
Watch the video: Lana Del Rey - Blue Jeans
https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/proxy/BXRQ54EXONbvDakpTlLJkY2jfmoypsVjd9s9zJ2MfaVFu_oVQAGmBzFV82Ym57ZFVN03eGskg1mIrCXHuOWFfAcXaQ=w506-h284-n
New album Ultraviolence out now. Download on iTunes: http://lanadel.re/iTunesSRyt Buy Deluxe Box & Merch Bundles: http://lanadel.re/UVBoxYT Born To Die - The...
5 hours ago - Via - View -
https://plus.google.com/114395680460832421494 Dipper Pines : Name:Timothy Age:15 Personality:cool,Athletic,Charming,Caring Wears:brown boots,Blue Jeans,White tee...
Name:Timothy
Age:15
Personality:cool,Athletic,Charming,Caring
Wears:brown boots,Blue Jeans,White tee,Black Hoodie,Black pine tree hat
Hair:Brown,goes over left eye
Eyes:blue
6 hours ago - Via Community - View -
https://plus.google.com/108707578959389825554 Benjamin Field : Blue Jeans Analog Photography Canon AE-1 & Canon Zoom Lens  FD 70-210mm 1:4 TRI-X 400 Black & White ...
Blue Jeans
Analog Photography
Canon AE-1 & Canon Zoom Lens  FD 70-210mm 1:4
TRI-X 400 Black & White Negative Film Kodak Professional
Self developed and scanned 
© 版権所有 2014
http://hammadichakouath.tumblr.com
https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-TP7GV8JJc7k/VFPnD1xoKpI/AAAAAAAADTI/MFUFJtawWCw/w506-h750/Jeans.jpg
7 hours ago - Via Google+ - View -
https://plus.google.com/107149810829653190068 Lisa Castro : Lana Del Rey - Blue Jeans: http://youtu.be/JRWox-i6aAk
Lana Del Rey - Blue Jeans: http://youtu.be/JRWox-i6aAk
Watch the video: Lana Del Rey - Blue Jeans
https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/proxy/BXRQ54EXONbvDakpTlLJkY2jfmoypsVjd9s9zJ2MfaVFu_oVQAGmBzFV82Ym57ZFVN03eGskg1mIrCXHuOWFfAcXaQ=w506-h284-n
New album Ultraviolence out now. Download on iTunes: http://lanadel.re/iTunesSRyt Buy Deluxe Box & Merch Bundles: http://lanadel.re/UVBoxYT Born To Die - The...
9 hours ago - Via - View -
https://plus.google.com/107963970893464613110 Cynthia Caron : #Missing Miguel Sonny Scott - October 27, 2011 - Bremerton, Washington (Kitsap County) Case Report ...

#Missing Miguel Sonny Scott - October 27, 2011 - Bremerton, Washington (Kitsap County)

Case Report - NamUs MP # 13040

Case Information:
Status: Missing
First name: Miguel
Middle name: Sonny
Last name: Scott
Date last seen: October 27, 2011
Age last seen: 19 years
Age now: 21 years
Race: Asian or Pacific Islander
Sex: Male
Height: 5 ft 11 inches
Weight: 116 pounds

Circumstances:
City: Bremerton
State: Washington
County: Kitsap
Circumstances: Scott was last seen drinking with friends at Evergreen-Rotary Park, about three blocks from Warren Avenue, in Bremerton, Washington at 10:00 p.m. on October 27, 2011. He never showed up for his next doctor's appointment and has never been heard from again. Although Scott has dropped out of sight before for a few days at a time, he's never been gone for this long, and it's uncharacteristic of him to be out of touch with his loved ones. He normally used his Facebook account every day, but hasn't accessed it since October 26, and he hasn't used his cellular phone since the evening of his disappearance.
Scott had plans to join the Navy after he finished school. Because his disappearance is out of character, his family is concerned for his safety.

Physical:
Hair color: Black
Head hair: Short
Left eye color: Brown
Right eye color: Brown
Scars and marks: Jaw wired shut from recent facial surgery, scar under chin, and on left side of face from surgery as well.
Other distinctive physical characteristics: Jaw is wired shut

Medical:
Medical Conditions: Scott's jaw was broken on the left side and wired shut at the time of his disappearance. He was taking opiate pain medications at the time of his disappearance and under follow-up care for his surgery. He may be in need of medical attention.
Skeletal information: Broken jaw

Clothing and Accessories: Blue jeans
Footwear: Tennis shoes
Accessories: Backpack

Transportation methods: None

Investigating Agency:
Title: Detective
First name: Phil
Last name: Doremus
Phone: (360) 337-5616
Website: http://www.kitsapgov.com/sheriff/
Case number: K11-011856
Jurisdiction: County
Agency: Kitsap County Sheriff's Office
City: Port Orchard
State: Washington
Zip code: 98366

https://www.findthemissing.org/en/cases/case_report_html/13040

http://www.charleyproject.org/cases/s/scott_miguel.html

Help Find Miguel Scott
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Help-Find-Miguel-Scott/131110150330427

http://lostnmissing.org/missing/miguel-sunny-scott-october-27-2011-bremerton-wa/

___________________________
LostNMissing Inc., is an all-volunteer national tax-exempt organization under section 501(c)(3) of the Internal Revenue Code (the "code") and qualifies as a public supported organization under Sections, or Categories: P99 (Human Services - Multipurpose and Other N.E.C.); M99 (Other Public Safety, Disaster Preparedness, and Relief N.E.C.); I01 (Alliance/Advocacy Organizations). LostNMissing is organized and incorporated under the laws of the State of New Hampshire. We never charge a fee for our services. #Missing
LostNMissing Inc Website: http://lostnmissing.org/

Corporate FB Page: LostNMissing Inc.
https://www.facebook.com/LostNMissingInc

FB Page: Washington Lostnmissing
https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-WEHDDmDdghI/VFPPodWrB6I/AAAAAAAAa2k/fpxLolqJF_0/w506-h750/Miguel%2BSonny%2BScott%2BMISSING%2BWashington%2B-%2B2011.jpg
9 hours ago - Via Google+ - View -
https://plus.google.com/114904449399110709558 Blue Jeans Network : Did you know you can host 100 participant meetings with Blue Jeans Network? The Blue Jeans Large Meetings...
Did you know you can host 100 participant meetings with Blue Jeans Network? The Blue Jeans Large Meetings feature extends the capacity of Blue Jeans meetings from 25 to 100 active video or audio endpoints: http://bit.ly/1spKuhR
Cloud based Video Conferencing Features –Blue Jeans

9 hours ago - Via - View -
https://plus.google.com/102565764465813346211 Arrcus Ruugas : (Uuuupd8888!) Name: Arrcus Ruugas Age:17 Gender: Male Species: Half human, half dragon Bio: From...
(Uuuupd8888!)

 Name: Arrcus Ruugas
 
Age:17

 Gender: Male

 Species: Half human, half dragon

 Bio: From a young age, Arrcus was raised and trained by an inhumanly powerful hermit... Who, to the surprise of those who knew him, died from an unknown cause a year before Arrcus set out on his own. During his training, Arrcus mad a fatal mistake while completing one of his final tasks before he finished his training...
Which caused him to be cursed, along with becoming half dragon.

 Class: C-3

 Dorm: None. Instead he lives in a decent little house in town.

 Dorm Partner: None (Though, if anyone is willing, they can become his roomate)

 Someone you like: None as of yet.

Appearance: Arrcus has white hair, red, reptilian eyes, and has a lean build. He usually wears just a white t-shirt, and blue jeans, though his wardrobe tends to vary depending on his mood.

Abilities: Considering the fact that Arrcus is part dragon, he's capable of breathing fire, though it's much less... Extravagant, and dazzling, as the real deal.
He also has a special pendant, which he can freely change into a sword, and a set of silver panel armor (The sword can be summoned along with a single gauntlet, without the rest of the armor being needed), which enhance his physical capabilities.
And one final ability Arrcus has, is his ability to use Magic.
During his training with his mentor, he learned various forms and types of magic. Ranging from a simple healing spell, to using the dragon half of himself to transform into various magic reptilians (Dragons, Salamanders, Nagas, etc.)
13 hours ago - Via Community - View -
https://plus.google.com/116500083108496778828 Percy Jackson : CHARACTER SHEET FORMAT FULL NAME:Percy Jackson AGE:15 SPECIES: human GENDER:male HAIR:dark blonde EYES:green...
CHARACTER SHEET FORMAT

FULL NAME:Percy Jackson
AGE:15
SPECIES: human
GENDER:male
HAIR:dark blonde
EYES:green
HEIGHT:5.9
SKIN:tan
CLOTHES:orange tee shirt. Blue jeans
WEAPON:sword
MAGICAL ITEM:my sword will turn into a own when I'm not useing it. It will also teleport into my pocket if I lose it.
PERSONALITY (GO INTO DETAIL):friendly, nice, and would prefer friends over an army at his side
14 hours ago - Via Community - View -
https://plus.google.com/108768138744664377993 Sarah Smith : If a photographer took a picture of how you are feeling right now, what would you look like? Here's ...
If a photographer took a picture of how you are feeling right now, what would you look like? Here's mine:  "It's Friday, I've got my blue jeans on and I'm ready for some R & R!"  (Rock and Roll that is... )  :) #photo
https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-qmHSw3p5Fu4/VBygOxGjRYI/AAAAAAAADC0/VmotwUXNNDc/w506-h750/WJ9J0030b_sepia_CD.jpg
19 hours ago - Via Reshared Post - View -
https://plus.google.com/109322724032513309945 David Crenshaw :                   Baby, Let’s Play House - Chapter 3 Chapter Three Blue Heartache With a population...
                  Baby, Let’s Play House - Chapter 3
 
          Chapter Three
          Blue Heartache
 
With a population of 237,000, Memphis was the largest city in the mid-South, and a serendipitous destination for the Presley family. King Cotton had built this town from the lazy banks of the Mississippi River, but in the post–World War II years, Memphis looked like a country boy in his first zoot suit, as urban and rural cultures came together to bolster the city as a regional hub of commerce and culture, and to move it from an agricultural to an industrial mecca.
Though middle-class jobs were not yet plentiful, opportunity crackled in the air, as if change itself were a seed in the fertile Mississippi Delta. And the mere size of the city meant that an ex-con like Vernon could reinvent himself with new friends and employers, and perhaps even with his wife. Gladys was so energized by the move that she seemed to enjoy her husband’s advances, an early friend of Elvis remembering that Vernon “was always hugging her and kissing her and showing her affection. He could never keep his hands off her.”
For Elvis, thirteen and just coming into puberty, everything was exciting and new. Still burning with the fire to be a singer, he was exhilarated to find himself smack in the home of the blues, historically a woeful or triumphal form of musical salvation, summoned in the cries and the catharsis of the worried and the worn-down. Before long, he would be poking around on Beale Street, staring at the photographs in the window of the Blue Light Studio, his ears tuned to the music—solo guitarists, wailing vocalists, harmonica players, or maybe just guitar and drum groups—pouring out of the smoky clubs. Music was everywhere on Beale Street. Men even played saxophone in the park.
Sometimes he’d meander over to North Main, every now and then summoning the courage to walk into the Green Owl, a black beer joint, where people spilled out onto the sidewalk on weekend nights. Elvis was wide-eyed at the city slickers and the pimped-up dandies in their bright Lansky Brothers clothes, and even more so at the women whose illegal turns helped buy them. He was also enthralled by the musicians, slack-jawed blacks who played with their eyes closed, a cigarette or something stronger tugging at the corners of their lips. And he especially got a kick out of the guy who made a bass out of a five-gallon bucket and a broom handle. Though he was too young to be in there, it was worth a rough little reprimand to hear the wild, wanton sounds of the blue notes, and to feel his own libido ripple down below.
When they first arrived in the Bluff City, the Presleys (Vernon, Gladys, Elvis, Minnie Mae) and the Smiths (Travis, Lorraine, Bobby, Billy) stuck together like immigrants in a new land, clutching their few belongings, fearful of the loud sounds of the city, and straining their ears at the oddity of the new language. Elvis had been there before on Noah Presley’s bus trips to the zoo and for picnics and concerts at the Overton Park Shell. But in a sense they were all just that, strangers in a strange land. Memphis was only ninety miles northwest of Tupelo, but it might as well have been a thousand.
Pooling their resources—Travis had sold two cows and killed a hog to get just over a hundred dollars—the families found lodging in a cheap wooden rooming house at 370 Washington Street in north Memphis in the Pinchgut district, a haven to newcomers since the Irish settled there in the 1820s, the Jews joining them in the early 1900s. The Smiths took the upstairs apartment and the Presleys the downstairs, and they shared the communal bath. Rent for each family: eleven dollars a week.
Tough and slummy, with prostitutes mixing with flatboat traders along the streets lined with delicatessens, five-and-dime stores, and brawl-house bars, the neighborhood derived its funny name from the saying that the Irish were so starved, their stomachs so taut from hunger, that you couldn’t pinch any loose skin on their middles. Later, the name got shortened to “Pinch.”
Billy Smith, eight years younger than Elvis, remembers that the situation was nearly as dire for the Presleys and the Smiths when the families settled in. “Daddy and Vernon spent weeks looking for work. They had to put cardboard in their shoes to cover the holes.” For months, it seemed, they survived on turnip greens, seasoned with part of the salt pork from the slaughtered hog. Then five-year-old Billy discovered that the produce stand next door threw rotting fruit and vegetables into the trash cans each night.
“I remember going through there and finding bruised bananas to eat. When you’re that poor, you scavenge for what you can get. Elvis loved to tell about the time I fell into one of the fifty-five-gallon trash cans. I was so little that he had to pick me up by my legs and pull me out. But I wasn’t turnin’ a-loose of them damn bananas.”
For a while, the families pondered moving back to Mississippi. But then both Vernon and Travis found employment at the Precision Tool Company on Kansas Street in south Memphis. (Soon Elvis’s uncle Johnny Smith moved up from Tupelo and was hired there, too.) And Gladys, calling on her seamstress skills, took a part-time job in a drapery factory, Lorraine finding work at a laundry.
Precisely when Elvis started going to school in Memphis is open to question. Gladys’s sister, Lillian, said he attended the Christine School for a short while, though there is no evidence to support it. What is known is that on November 8, 1948, Elvis Aaron Presley enrolled in the eighth grade at L. C. Humes High School, a traditionally white institution in a rough neighborhood in a mostly segregated city. It already had a bad reputation. Vernon walked him to school that first day and was astonished to see his son back home shortly after, “so nervous he was bug-eyed,” as Vernon put it. But he soon adjusted. Records show he was present 165 days that year, and absent 15, but never tardy. His grades improved from Tupelo, Elvis bringing home an A in language; a B in spelling, history, and physical education; and a C in arithmetic, science, and music.
The C in music would have pierced his ego. Elvis seemed more reticent about performing in public once the family moved to Memphis, perhaps because the town was full of music, a Mississippi blues man on every corner, a tip jar at his feet. Even at home, he insisted that the lights be off so nobody could see him when he practiced his guitar. “I was ashamed to sing in front of anybody except my mother and daddy,” Elvis would say in 1956. He never did learn much more than a few major chords and a couple of easy runs, but they did the trick, and he could beat on the guitar with the meat of his palm for a percussive sound.
He was trying different songs now, Kay Starr’s pop ballad “Harbor Lights” and “Molly, Darling,” a hillbilly number made popular by Eddy Arnold, whose career was taking flight under the guidance of his new manager, a former carny who went by the name of Colonel Tom Parker. Sometimes at night, Elvis would take his guitar outside to see how it all sounded in the evening air, and Vernon and Gladys would spread an old quilt down on the ground so they could sit and listen, even though Elvis’s voice, quavering slightly, seldom rose above a whisper.
In spring 1949 both the Presley and Smith families were still struggling financially. Vernon applied for public housing and left Precision Tool for a job at United Paint Company, which was closer to home. “He stayed there longer than anywhere,” says Billy Smith. “Usually, he’d get a couple of paychecks, and that would be about it.” At the time, with everybody working, the two families made a combined total of about $120 a week, Vernon bringing home $40.38 at 85 cents per hour. The Presleys and the Smiths soon split up for nearby rooming houses, one on Adams and the other on Poplar. But with no one else to depend on, the family held tight. Soon they would welcome Gladys’s sister Levalle and her husband, Edward Smith, and their children, Junior and Gene, up from Mississippi.
In June 1949 Jane Richardson, a home service adviser for the Memphis Housing Authority, followed up on Vernon’s application and visited the Presleys’ rented room, for which they paid $9.50 a week. With Vernon at work, Miss Richardson met with Gladys and Elvis, noting that the family shared a bathroom with other residents and cooked on a hot plate. Miss Richardson went back to her office and wrote her report, indicating that the Presleys’ application had merit. She added that Mrs. Presley and her son seemed “very nice and deserving.” That November, they moved into Lauderdale Courts, right around the corner from where they were living, and paid thirty-five dollars a month for a two-bedroom, first-floor unit at 185 Winchester Street. With 689 square feet, apartment 328 had a living room, bathroom, and walk-in kitchen.
Residents were expected to keep the apartments clean, and inspectors came around once a month to make sure of that, and to see that no one had accumulated too many material goods, as any sign of affluence would put them at risk for eviction. Lauderdale Courts, consisting of sixty-six red brick buildings on twenty-two acres, was one of the first U.S. housing projects, and most occupants felt fortunate to be there, even as they hoped not to stay. Its motto: “From slums to public housing to private ownership.”
Billy Smith saw how thrilled Gladys was with the place. “I have this vivid memory of going over to Lauderdale Courts one summer when Elvis was at Humes. They were playing music, and Gladys was dancing and they were having a ball. She was always jolly then, always laughing and carrying on.”
The Presleys were one of seventeen new families who moved into the Courts around that time, though they differed in that most were single-parent households. Elvis, at fourteen, began quietly making new contacts, playing guitar with a group of older boys under the trees at Market Mall, the path that bisected the housing development. For the most part, he stayed in the background, watching and listening to see what he could pick up from the more experienced musicians, and then went home and sat on his bedroom windowsill and practiced, sometimes going down to the basement laundry room so no one would hear him.
He was making personal friends, too, especially with three other boys from the Courts about his age—Buzzy Forbess, Paul Dougher, and Farley Guy. The trio became so close that they were seemingly inseparable, but it was Buzzy, and not George Klein or Red West, who become Elvis’s best friend during his years at Humes. They banded together to do odd jobs, cutting grass with a push mower and a hand sickle for two dollars a yard, and walked up on Main Street to the movies at the Suzore No. 2 or the Rialto out on Jackson. (“Man, we really liked Victor Mature in Samson and Delilah,” Buzzy remembered.)
Sometimes they played pool at the Odd Fellows Hall, Elvis liking eight ball and rotation. Mostly, they played corkball with a cut-off broom or mop handle, adhesive tape wrapped around a simple cork to serve as a ball. One day, Farley spit on the corkball stick, trying to emulate Buzzy’s habit of spitting through his teeth. Elvis didn’t see him—didn’t realize what he was doing—though when he picked up the stick he instantly realized what was on it. By his teen years, Elvis had developed a hair-trigger temper, and in a second, he had Farley in the air.
“I grabbed a peach soda bottle on the way up,” says Farley. “I told him, ‘Elvis, if you don’t put me down, I’m going to crown you with this bottle!’ ”
Suddenly, all hell broke loose, Gladys shouting out of her window, and Farley’s mother, too. Elvis hauled off and hit Farley hard, and as his little sister, Doris, remembers it, “Farley said, ‘Okay, you’ve hit me. Now it’s my time to hit you.’ And Mrs. Presley came running out there yelling, ‘Don’t hit my boy!’ Later that day, she told my mother, ‘We can’t have Farley going around hitting my boy,’ but my mother told Mrs. Presley that boys would be boys and it was best if grown-ups did not get involved. She was one domineering woman.”
Elvis and Farley shook hands and were friends again, but Elvis was gaining a reputation as a boy who could take care of himself. When one of his uncles got in trouble in a bar, it was Elvis he called. And once when Humes played a rival school, Treadwell, Elvis coldcocked a Treadwell player who cursed the Humes coach, “knocking him all the way back into the bus,” as Buzzy recalls.
It was a way for him to work off steam and deal with the hormonal pull of puberty, if not to distance himself from Gladys. Now that they lived in the big city, she wanted to walk Elvis to school again, fearing for him when he crossed the street by himself. For a little while, she simply followed him, darting behind bushes so Elvis wouldn’t see her.
Sometimes at night, in foreshadowing how the adult Elvis would interact with his entourage, the boys played tag on their bikes, Buzzy remembering that they raced at one another full force. (“It’s a wonder we didn’t get killed.”) If they could scrape together ten cents, they went swimming at Malone Pool. But Elvis liked to save his money for pinball at a beer joint up at Third and Jackson, or for special occasions like the Cotton Carnival. Once they saw burlesque entertainer Gypsy Rose Lee there, Elvis frozen in his tracks, watching as if transfixed.
Often they made their own entertainment. When his parents were out for the evening, Elvis sometimes held dances in the Presleys’ apartment with a phonograph and the few records the kids had between them. Each boy pitched in twenty-five cents for himself and his date, just enough for popcorn and Cokes. “None of us was rich enough then to just have a quarter,” Buzzy remembered, “so we would save all week—a nickel a day—to get up enough money to go to the dance in Elvis’s apartment.”
Elvis, trying to overcome his shyness, pulled out his guitar and sang—he was working on Hank Williams’s “Kaw-liga”—and initially, he brought a girl from the third floor named Betty Ann McMahan, also fourteen. She was his first love in the Courts. Gladys had met her even before Elvis, through her mother. The two women struck up a conversation outside one warm evening and continued it most nights in the McMahans’ lawn chairs, Betty soon sitting in. Elvis, though, was too shy to join them. “Finally one night, I guess, she just forced him to come outside and sit with us and talk,” as Betty remembered it.
One day, their neighbor Margaret Cranfill took a photograph of Elvis and Betty sitting on the curb on Winchester, both of them in dungarees with the hems rolled up into neat cuffs: twins. In it, the dark-haired Betty, her arm propped up and her chin in her hand, offers a closed smile for the camera. But a melancholy Elvis looks as if Betty has just told him good-bye. And perhaps she had. Their romance ended when a boy from Arkansas stole her affections, though Elvis’s attraction to women whose appearance was remarkably similar to his was to be a nearly constant feature in his future choice of companions.
In the early days of his career, Elvis told a reporter he’d gotten his heart broken in high school—a gal he thought a lot of suddenly quit seeing him. For that reason, he said, he’d had trouble allowing himself to be fond of just one girl.
Whether that was Betty McMahan or her successors, Elvis began seeing Billie Wardlaw before Betty broke up with him. Billie, Betty’s next-door neighbor, moved in with her mother, Thelma, in 1950, the year she turned fourteen. She was already so tall and pretty, with her long dark hair, that before she moved from her native Sardis, Mississippi, her grandmother had warned, “Now, Billie, you better not go up there to Memphis and get pregnant and embarrass your mother!”
Billie had never even heard the word pregnant before and didn’t know what it meant, but when she immediately turned the heads of all the boys in the Courts, she took heed.
“All the kids kept trying to get me to leave our third-floor apartment and come down and play with them, but I would just hang out the window and talk to them. I told them the reason I couldn’t come down was because I didn’t have any clothes to wear. I would just keep hanging out the window and talking.”
Elvis, by now fifteen, was smitten with the mysterious girl peering down from above, especially since she’d teased that she had no clothes. He’d told her his name and exchanged pleasantries (“I’m from Mississippi, too”), and after a few weeks, while the other boys waited her out, treating her like a princess in some fairy-tale tower, Elvis took matters in hand. One day Billie heard a knock on the door and opened it to find him standing there, holding something behind his back. They giggled a bit the way teenagers do, nervous in the first throes of courtship, and then Elvis shifted the package in his hands and held it out to her. “Here,” he said. “I brought you something.”
“I opened the package, and it was a pair of blue jeans, the first pair of blue jeans I ever had. Elvis said, ‘Now you can come down and play with us.’ ”
Elvis’s idea of “play” was the old kissing game of spin the bottle, and as the kids of the Courts numbered about thirteen, and always hung out together, the game was almost evenly split between boys and girls. Farley’s little sister, the tomboy Doris, joined in, as did Luther Nall’s kid sis, Jerry. She was always photographing Elvis with her little camera and had a mad crush on him, even though he thought of Jerry as his little sister, popping her with a wet towel at the pool one day and accidentally scarring her leg. When dark came and somebody suggested spin the bottle, all the girls got excited, including Billie: “Elvis was a great kisser. We always hoped the bottle would land on him!”
From the start of their relationship, Elvis was possessive. He’d had other flirtations with Jo Ann Lawhorn, and another Jo Ann over at Bickford Park, who came to some of the group parties at the Courts with him. He’d tried to get something started with Carolyn Poole at school. And he tried with Georgia Avgeris, too, throwing wadded-up gum wrappers at her in class to get her attention, but she was Greek Orthodox and not allowed to date outside her religion. Besides, his feelings for Billie were different. One day they had a spat, and she began flirting with Farley, who found himself in a tough spot: “Elvis didn’t like that at all, and we had a ‘discussion’ over it.” But it all blew over quickly.
“I think she just thought of him as a friend,” Farley’s sister, Doris, said. And since Elvis had a deathly crush on Billie, he enlisted Doris’s help. “He was all the time getting me to go up and knock on her door and ask her to come down. Sometimes he would take his guitar into the courtyard and sing to her under her window, sort of like a modern-day Romeo and Juliet. He was crazy about her.”
Billie confirmed it years later: “We really liked each other, but I think he liked me just a little more than I liked him.” Her mother worked nights some, and Elvis would come up to Billie’s apartment, but she never let him in while she was alone—everybody knew who did what and when and how at the Courts. So the two just sat on the steps and talked. One night, she asked him to teach her how to play the guitar, and he brought it up and showed her where to put her fingers on the fretboard to make the chords.
Elvis tried to deepen her affection, proffering a box of cherries, and then a necklace and bracelet that Billie always suspected he’d bought for Betty and took back when they broke up. He went to great lengths. One day, Billie’s little sister peered out the window and couldn’t believe her eyes: “Look at that. Elvis is climbing up that sign across the street!” Billie shook her head. Why was Elvis being so silly? Her sister thought she was cruel, but Billie refused to acknowledge him. “I wanted him to grow up.”
They walked to school together to save a dime, and sometimes went to the movies at the Suzores. Elvis loved the dreamy escapism of the movies, his interests maturing from watching cowboy pictures to studying Tony Curtis, with his shiny black hair and knack for winning the girls. In the fall of 1950 Elvis applied for his Social Security card, and shortly after, he and Luther Nall got night jobs as ushers at Loew’s State movie theater on South Main, where they wore uniforms to work. The job promised the delicious perk of letting them see the movies free. But like all twinless twins, Elvis had a fascination with uniforms and loved wearing his usher suit. It not only gave him an air of authority, but also made him look like Luther and all the other male employees, making him feel as if he belonged to a special group.
That’s one reason he joined ROTC at Humes that year, in the tenth grade. Fannie Mae Crowder, who saw him in the halls a lot, noticed, “About every time I saw him, he was wearing his ROTC uniform, as if that was all he had to wear.” And Doris Guy remembered how proud he was of it, all dressed up, and how he needed to show it off, organizing all the younger kids in the Courts as his soldiers, making them march back and forth, back and forth, all around in the courtyard when he got home in the afternoons. The only drawback was that his ROTC duties sometimes cut into the time he hoped to spend with Billie.
But Billie, too, had responsibilities, working after school and on weekends at Britlings’s Cafeteria, where both her mother and Gladys had also been employed, Gladys eventually leaving that job to become a nurse’s aide at St. Joseph’s Hospital. Working around everybody’s schedule curtailed the young couple’s outings, so most of what they did was right around the Courts.
Their romance was chaste (“We were never doing anything we shouldn’t have been doing,” she said), even after sixteen-year-old Elvis took his driver’s test in 1951 in his uncle Travis’s 1940 Buick. Now that he had his license, he borrowed cars for double-dates with his cousin, Gene, or Luther, or the other guys around the Courts. He was growing up fast, getting handsome, and gaining confidence in himself. That summer, he took a job operating a spindle drill press and making rocket shells at Precision Tool, where Travis still worked. Each Friday, he came home and gave his paycheck to his father, taking out only a little for dating.
If he had any money left over, he would go to Lansky Brothers on Beale Street and buy flamboyant clothing. Gladys had always made sure that his clothes were neat and clean (“He may not have had many clothes, but what he had was nice, and pretty much up-to-date,” says Billy Smith), but his interests now ran along the lines of hepcat threads—two-tone pants and shirts with crazy piping, yellow, or maybe pink.
In an era of crew cuts, he also attempted to grow sideburns and paid obsessive attention to his hair, which had darkened to a dull, pale blond in puberty. The girls at the Courts teased him about looking in the mirror all the time, and they said his hair was so long and straight that it hung down to his chin when he combed it forward. Elvis would grin and explain that’s why he was combing it, to keep it from falling down on his face. He finally styled it into a goopy wall of rose oil tonic, Vaseline, or Royal Crown pomade, which made it all look darker. In time, building on the Tony Curtis look and the hero of his comic books, Captain Marvel, Jr., he would sculpt a perfect pompadour, which curled into a greasy ducktail at the nape of his neck.
The family was now paying forty-three dollars a month for housing at the Courts, but Vernon was out of work, claiming a bad back. He used the excuse to let Gladys and Elvis support him much of the time, and that led to strained relations between father and son, Elvis sometimes talking back to his father, but never his mother. He acted out in other ways, too, getting in trouble for skipping school to go swimming in Wolf River with Luther, and earning a paddling from school principal T. C. Brindley.
Still, in the summer of 1952, just before Elvis’s senior year at Humes, Vernon staked him to a 1941 green, two-door Lincoln that Elvis and Luther found in a junk car lot. The cost: thirty-five dollars.
“My daddy was something wonderful to me,” Elvis would say about the car, since it was a rarity for a high school boy to have his own wheels, especially one whose family lived in government housing. Buzzy remembers Elvis driving him to Tupelo to show him where he’d grown up, just to have something to do. He took Luther one time, too, even though the tires were so thin on the old Lincoln that Luther didn’t think they’d make it down and back.
One night, Elvis drove the whole gang down to Mississippi, this time to Water Valley, where Billie’s relatives lived. She “was having some kind of party down there,” as Farley remembered it. But try as he did, Elvis couldn’t seem to impress any of Billie’s family except her mother, who told him he sang well enough to be on the radio. Elvis blushed and stammered and finally said, “Mrs. Rooker, I can’t sing.”
Once, the couple rode the bus to the end of the line to have dinner with Billie’s older sister. Billie was embarrassed at Elvis’s table manners, since he ate everything with a spoon and never touched his fork, “not then and not at any meal I had with him later.” It was bizarre, she thought, and she noted that when they ate with his parents, he had a special platter, “and he wouldn’t eat from anything but that platter.”
The boy was odd, yes, but so many of the silly things he did seemed like kid stuff. Even though she was younger, she thought she had simply matured faster, and it bothered her. Then she began to see his temper, as on the day he spotted another boy’s picture in her purse and just went wild. “He grabbed it out, and without saying anything, he threw that picture on the ground and began stomping it and grinding it into the ground with the heel of his shoe.”
Billie had never seen Elvis like that, and it shocked and frightened her.
They’d been going together for a year and a half by now, and more and more, Billie found things about Elvis she didn’t like, including the fact that he didn’t dance. He and his friends may have held parties in the Presleys’ apartment, but the truth was he couldn’t dance, not really. He could slow dance—everybody could do that, drape yourself onto a partner and inch around in a circle—but he couldn’t fast dance with a girl, and he didn’t know the sophisticated dance steps for big-band music. And dancing, it turned out, was something Billie really wanted to do. After work, she and her mother walked by the USO club on Third Street on their way home, and now she began asking permission to stay at the club for a few hours and dance with the military men.
Elvis noticed her hanging out with other guys, particularly a sailor she’d met there, and he was furious. For a boy who’d gotten his first erection watching his aunts dancing to fast music, it was all too intimate, a betrayal of the most treacherous sort, even if there was no actual sex involved. His head swirled with emotions, and he could hardly get his words out. They tumbled all over one another in a cascade of pain. Billie couldn’t take it another second.
“I finally had to tell him, ‘Elvis, I am going to begin seeing other boys.’ ” His reaction surprised her.
“He started crying. Until that night, I had never seen a man, or a boy, cry. He told me, ‘Billie, I was going to ask you to marry me!’ ”
Billie was stunned. Marriage certainly wasn’t on her mind, and she had no idea it was on his. But now there was nothing to do but break up, even as Elvis kept tabs on her—just happening to show up at the cafeteria, for instance, and at the Cotton Carnival the same night she went. “Look, there’s Elvis!” her girlfriend said. The way he looked, he was impossible not to notice. But Billie acted as if she didn’t see him, though there was no escaping him at the Courts.
The trauma of losing Billie triggered his sleepwalking again. One night he woke up on the stairs outside his apartment, wearing only his underwear. Suddenly, he heard Billie come in with her date, and he ran and hid, crouching, afraid to move while she kissed the boy good night.
For a while they tried to be friends, but Elvis’s heart was broken, and there was no fixing it, not even after Billie moved back to Mississippi.
Though she is a minor name in the Elvis saga, Billie Wardlaw was a progenitor for many of the women to follow. Her coloring, particularly her dark hair, would have made her seem like his twin, a female version of himself. It’s one reason he spent money well beyond his reach for a pair of blue jeans for her, as they matched his own, as Betty’s had. And her size—she was big boned, though not overweight—would have reminded Elvis of the young Gladys, which is why he had intended to propose marriage, to complete his psychological circle.
“At an unconscious level, we are always seeking resolutions to childhood dilemmas,” writes psychologist Charlotte Davis Kasl in her groundbreaking book, Women, Sex, and Addiction: A Search for Love and Power. “On some level, we’re looking for a second chance, to get what we missed the first time around. By attracting people similar to those in our families, we are given a chance to heal ourselves, to learn the lesson inherent to our childhood situations.”
In courting Billie, Elvis was attempting to separate himself from his mother and the pain of having lost his twin, even as Billie represented both. A happy relationship with her would have allowed him the chance to obliterate the guilt of surviving when Jessie did not, as well as quell the eternal loneliness of losing his twin, and the pain Jessie’s death had caused their mother. It also would have blunted the sexual shame of covert incest. The fact that Billie spurned him only added to his core belief that he wasn’t lovable. He would have felt terribly empty and rejected, not just as a boyfriend, but also as a person.
Finally, his violent outbursts at finding another boy’s picture in Billie’s purse and his tears at learning she was dating a sailor were predictable escapes. As an adult, still dealing with the seeds of destruction planted in childhood, Elvis would turn that violence inward, deflecting his loneliness and fear with prescription drugs and overeating.
At the start of his senior year, in the fall of 1952, Elvis was being stretched in all directions, practicing his music, trying to keep up a C average, and working long hours, first for the Upholsterers Specialties Company, and then for MARL Metal Products, a furniture manufacturer, on the 3 P.M. to 11 P.M. shift, using hand tools and an electric screw drill to make plastic tables. The strain started to show—he was falling asleep in class—and so Gladys had him quit.
However, the family faced a greater dilemma that November, when the Memphis Housing Authority sent the Presleys an eviction notice and ordered them to vacate by the end of February. The reason: With a combined income of $4,133, they had exceeded the limit allowed for residents of subsidized housing.
In January 1953 they left the Courts and moved to 698 Saffarans Street, across from Humes. Three months later, they packed up again, this time landing in an apartment in a large, two-story brick home at 462 Alabama, an integrated street where they would pay $50 a month in rent, plus utilities. Minnie Mae bunked on a cot in the dining room, and Elvis slept on the sofa. The Presleys were now out of government housing, but the move to Alabama Street could not be considered upward mobility for the family in any way, as the apartment consisted of a couple of small rooms and a large kitchen. They still weren’t doing all that well financially, and the Courts were located right across the street.
In March, Elvis visited the Tennessee State Employment Security office, saying he would like to work as a machinist. The interviewer took his information, and then noted on his application that his appearance as a “rather flashily dressed playboy type [is] denied by fact [he] has worked hard past three summers [;] wants a job dealing with people.”
Elvis had never really found his place in high school, but now, in his senior year, he was about to have two powerful supporters. The first was George Klein, who he’d met in music class the year he started at Humes. They had two things in common: They were both eaten up with music, and they shared a worshipful love of radio, George hoping to make a career in it. Elvis had impressed him that first year by performing “Old Shep” and “Cold, Cold Icy Fingers” for his classmates. When Elvis raised his hand and asked permission, “There were a few laughs in the class because it just wasn’t cool in 1948 to do that in front of anyone. I was blown away because I’d never seen a kid get up and sing like that.” As they approached their senior year, George became class president and thus had some political clout. The two wouldn’t really become close until after they graduated, but George paid attention to him, and Elvis never forgot it.
His second ally was Robert Gene West, nicknamed “Red” for his carrot-colored hair, buzzed into a crew cut. An all-Memphis football star, Red was a year behind Elvis, who had quit the team almost immediately after he joined: To start with, at 145 pounds, he was too light, which made him self-conscious about school sports. Besides, he didn’t like to wear the helmet—it messed up his hair—and he needed to get an after-school job. Sometimes he didn’t have the fifteen cents for lunch, and Coach Rube Boyce would give it to him.
Red West, taut and muscular, had a reputation for being a quick man with his fists, and in the late summer–early fall of 1952, Elvis needed a little protection. While everyone else wore jeans and T-shirts, Elvis favored dress pants, and just to be different, he often wore a scarf fashioned into an ascot, like a movie star. Everything about his appearance made him a natural target.
Red had stopped at his locker to get his football gear one afternoon just after the bell rang and saw Elvis leaning against the wall. They had spoken before, but the hierarchy of high school had prevented them from becoming friends. Now Elvis could use one. Red could tell that something was up, and Elvis spilled it out: “There’s three guys outside who are going to beat me up.” Red nodded and said, “Let’s go check on it.” Outside, Red had a persuasive talk with the ringleader and all ended peacefully.
The following day, Elvis caught him after class and gave him a bashful smile. “Thanks a lot for yesterday.” Red smiled back. “Forget it, man.”
Not long after, Red walked into the boys’ bathroom and found Elvis in trouble again. Three guys had him pushed up against the wall, taunting him about his hair and threatening to cut it. Red saw a “look of real fear on his face . . . like a frightened little animal.” He knew the guys from the football squad, and laid it on the line. Elvis liked his hair like that, and if they cut it, they’d have to cut Red’s, too. “They did it just to make themselves feel big, and I intervened and stopped it, and I guess it stuck.”
That April Elvis learned that Red had a musical side, when they both performed in Humes’s annual Minstrel Show, a variety program featuring the school band and various soloists, from the Arwood Twins, billed as twirlers, to dancer Gloria Trout. A fund-raiser, the show was scheduled for a Thursday evening and was not expected to change anybody’s life. Elvis, listed sixteenth on the program, and identified as “Guitarist . . . Elvis Prestly” [sic], told only a couple of friends about it, and even then, they thought he might bow out. He’d sung once at a Christmas party in biology class, but that was about it. Now he was ready to go in Buzzy’s red flannel shirt. He’d accidentally torn a hole in it when he put it in the closet, and he’d rolled up the sleeves so it wouldn’t show.
Red, who played trumpet, had put together a little trio with a guitar and bass, and he’d just finished his act when he saw Elvis come out with his guitar. “I never thought he would have the guts to get out there in front of those people,” Red wrote. “I never even knew he sang.”
When Elvis first ambled out onstage, he looked the least prepared of all the performers. He seemed unsure of what to say or even do. He fumbled around with his guitar, and then with the lights bothering him, turned his head sideways, eyeing the audience through slits. He stood there too long for anyone’s comfort—at least a full minute, as if he might bolt. Finally, waves of talent and ambition crashed inside him, and he launched into his first number, Teresa Brewer’s new chart topper, “ ’Til I Waltz Again with You.”
Quietly, Elvis had been doing more than working on his ballads—he’d been experimenting with fast numbers, jumping around a little, just enough to put some pizzazz into it all. The teens in the Courts danced to a one-two-three bop beat, but Buzzy watched Elvis develop his own “crazy” rhythmic step, adding four-five-six to the one-two-three. He tried it out in front of eight or ten kids at the jukebox in the grocery store that Farley’s brother-in-law owned.
He also practiced in front of his family, Billy Smith remembers. “We got a piano that Christmas, and Elvis came over to our house. He started playing something fairly fast, what little he could play piano, and then he got to moving around a lot, and it was a sight to see! I thought, ‘Gosh, that’s weird to see him jump around like that and sing.’ He just done it for a few minutes, and he quit. He was trying to find something that fit him. And when he did, all at once, it just broke loose what was inside him.”
Now, onstage at the Minstrel Show, he started his second song. Nobody seems to remember what it was, but Frannie Mae Crowder swears it was the moment when the real Elvis was born. “He was moving all over that stage. And his movements didn’t start with his hips. They started with his knees and worked their way up.”
And then in a flash it was over. “At first,” Red remembered, “he just stood there, surprised as hell.” The audience, too, seemed stunned. Nobody had ever seen a guy move like that. What was he doing? And how did he do it, this dunce with the impossible hair? The place went crazy.
“It was amazing,” Elvis said later, “how popular I became after that.”
He performed every chance he got, toting his guitar to school. All the same, some of the girls thought he was just too over-the-top, and when he would start to sing, they’d whisper, “Not again!” He still had few real friends at Humes aside from Red and George.
In early 1953 he went to a birthday party a few blocks from the Courts and ran into Regis Wilson, fourteen, who was there with two girlfriends, Carol McCracken and Judy Gessell. Regis, a petite girl with blond hair and a big smile, had formerly lived at the Courts for six years with her divorced mother and five siblings, including her brother Jim, who was Elvis’s age, and hung out with him around the complex.
Regis had a crush on Elvis, who she considered “a gentle soul, but all boy—he kind of had this swagger to him.” She used to see him playing football in the Triangle, the grassy open field at the complex. But she’d never spoken to him, and never thought he’d paid any attention to her—he seemed too interested in Betty or Billie. Of course, he was a weird dresser, in his yellow sport coat with brown trim, and he had a case of teenage acne. But from day one, she remembers, “I thought he was cute.”
She lived in a rooming house on Merriweather Street, a bus ride away, and hadn’t expected to see Elvis again. But there he was, and he was talking to her. And he still had those sideburns she’d always liked. “He was a loner, a looker. Very sexy, with slicked-back hair.”
They played spin the bottle that night, and Regis’s girlfriends, miffed that she had kissed a boy they liked, went off and left her by herself when their ride came. Regis was stranded. “I didn’t have anybody I could call to come pick me up, because by then my four older siblings had left home and my mother didn’t have a car.” Elvis offered to drive her, and she nervously agreed. She’d never been alone in a car with a boy before, and in fact, she’d never dated—she was a ninth grader at the all-girl Holy Names, “the poorest Catholic school in Memphis.” But when they got to her front porch and Elvis asked for her phone number, “I knew I wanted to see him.”
Though he was eighteen, the four-year age gap didn’t bother either one of them. “Growing up in housing projects with a single mom, five [other] kids, and a very dysfunctional family background, I pretty much raised myself,” says Regis. “So I was fourteen, but I was a very mature fourteen.” And Elvis, still stinging from Billie’s cruel rebuff, found the relationship with Regis finally put him in a position of control and made him feel like something of an older brother.
Psychologically, his attraction to her was more complex. Because his stunted emotional growth left him unable to move much past fourteen, Regis wasn’t just a little buddy but a replication of himself. Unconsciously, fourteen would now be the magic age for so many of his future romantic interests.
When they first began dating, Elvis worked at night part-time, ushering at Loew’s. (At some point, he was fired after an altercation with another usher, who complained that a concession stand girl gave him free candy.) His usual habit would be to drop by Regis’s place in the afternoon, sometimes waiting for her when she got home from school. But she never knew exactly when he was coming, and she never invited him in: “My mother had had another child—and still no husband—and I was left at home with this two-year-old. My family life was so chaotic that I just couldn’t talk about it to him.”
Regis was also embarrassed that her family didn’t actually own the house, an immaculate, large brick home with flowers in the yard, but simply lived in one rented room. Pretty soon she couldn’t tell him, because Elvis thought otherwise, and his imagination had run away with him. “He used to say, ‘One of these days, I’m going to buy my mama a house like this.’ ” And he told her about his twin.
Often they simply sat in the glider on the screened-in porch and talked (“His humor was the type that he could just come out with funny remarks”), and sometimes he sang to her with his guitar, just strumming and humming. He was working on a new ballad, “My Happiness,” and he sang that to her, too, his baritone, melancholy and soft, floating on the humid air. She was amazed that someone as shy as he was could put his heart on the line like that. “He sang it so tenderly. It seemed like it held a lot of emotion for him.”
Evening shadows make me blue,
When each weary day is through,
How I long to be with you,
My happiness . . .
Soon he began courting her in the evening, too. His worn-out Lincoln had a little seat in the back, and sometimes his cousin Gene Smith and his girl would double-date. They made the usual teenage excursions: riding over to West Memphis, Arkansas, for a drive-in movie and popcorn, or the “Teen Canteen” at McKellar Lake for hamburgers and shakes. Sometimes they just went tooling around. “He was a very simple, sweet person. He thoroughly enjoyed just sitting there watching the Mississippi River roll by, and he loved driving cars.”
As he had been with Billie, Elvis was a consummate gentleman. His looks completely belied his behavior. (“If you were to see him on the street, you’d probably think he was a hoodlum.”) At fourteen, she didn’t think she could really be in love with someone, but she liked him a lot. She kissed him every night from the second date on, and she had her expectations. Carol and Judy still hung out around the Courts, and reported he was a good kisser, “and I wanted to see for myself.” She had heard he knew how to kiss in that deep way, but that presented a dilemma.
“The nuns at my school told us we shouldn’t allow boys to kiss us with their mouths open. So I’ll just say Elvis gave me long kisses. You could say we made out. But he never tried to go farther. He wasn’t like that.”
Regis knew he was serious about music, but he was so modest he never even mentioned his big success at the Humes Minstrel Show. One of his favorite things to do was to take her to the All-Night Gospel Singings at Ellis Auditorium, where the Statesmen and the Blackwood Brothers would perform.
“About two in the morning, I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer, and we’d leave.” But Elvis could have lasted until dawn. “Some of those spirituals had big, heavy rhythm beats like a rock-and-roll song,” he would remember in 1965. “That music didn’t hurt anybody, and it sure made you feel good.” Sitting in the audience, he sang right along with everyone onstage, trying to hit all the high and low notes. Regis scrunched down in her seat. “I would look at him like he was crazy, but that didn’t stop him from going right on singing.”
Regis didn’t know it, but he afforded their dates by working the auditorium’s concessions, particularly on Monday nights when the hall staged professional wrestling. Guy Coffey, the concessions manager, hired him and other Humes students to sell Cokes, and on a good night Elvis earned three or four dollars. He loved the magic of the place, and he fantasized playing there one day, standing on the same stage as all the greats.
“Sometimes after the night’s event had ended and the Humes kids had settled up financially,” Coffey remembered, “Elvis would go up on the stage and play to imaginary crowds, bowing to their applause. I would have to tell him, ‘Come on now, Elvis, we have to close the place up.’ And he would say, ‘Yes, sir,’ and we would walk silently out of the building.”
Regis enjoyed the gospel sings, for which Elvis always got dressed up in his good clothes, as if he were going to church. But Elvis never invited her to services anywhere, perhaps because he only sporadically attended, and his parents had never become members anywhere once they moved to Memphis. He also knew that there was significant prejudice against the Assembly of God church. In fact, Regis’s own family referred to Pentecostal groups as “Holy Rollers,” and as she remembers, “I got the impression that the Presleys were religious, but I would have to say that he didn’t talk about [the Assembly of God] because it was snickered about. It was something he wouldn’t have told many people.”
If Elvis felt like an alien among other teenagers most of the time, he was never so out of place than on the night of his senior prom at the swanky and segregated Peabody Hotel in downtown Memphis. Now, at the end of the school year and four months into his courtship of Regis, he asked her to be his date. Precisely why he went is a mystery, but he felt some kind of pressure to go, and to give the evening a special flair. “It was the most exciting thing I had ever done,” Regis says. “I felt like Cinderella getting ready to go to the Royal Ball.”
The fourteen-year-old hurried to Lerner’s to pick out a strapless pink taffeta dress for $14.98, and then, her budget blown, accessorized it with the pink shoes she’d gotten at Easter. Someone suggested she could get her hair done free at the beauty college right across the street from the Peabody, and she quickly made an appointment. She’d never even been in the Peabody before, and as she sat in the beauty chair, looking at the hotel through the window, she said to herself, “Just think, in a few hours from now I will be back here all dressed up.”
Elvis was also grooming his hair—his sideburns were now extra long—and choosing his outfit. Regis wondered what he would wear, since “he would show up in outfits that were so flashy I would open the door and blink my eyes.” But he passed on the idea of a white jacket like the other boys wore and decided on a conservative dark blue suit and blue suede shoes. He showed up at her door in a shiny rented Chevy, also dark blue, paid for by money he had saved from ushering. Shyly, as Regis blushed, he pinned a pink carnation corsage on her dress.
As they entered the Continental Ballroom at the Peabody, the band was playing, and couples were already out on the floor. But Elvis steered Regis to a seat and offered to get her a Coke.
Given Billie’s rejection and his embarrassment at not knowing how to dance, Elvis would have been enormously uncomfortable at his prom, and tortured at the idea of getting out on the floor in front of his peers. Finally, in case Regis was wondering, he told her.
“I can’t dance,” he said, cracking a self-conscious grin and perspiring under his jacket.
Regis took it that he didn’t dance because of religion, and simply said, “That’s all right.” And so they sat out the entire night, talking and sipping on soda pop and watching all the other dancers, Elvis’s dark blue suit, the color of heartache, further setting them apart. Finally, they lined up with all the other couples for the grand march, stepping through a mammoth heart as their names were called, and had their picture taken. In it, Regis manages a half-smile, but Elvis looks as stiff as a soldier, peering solemnly into the camera. Regis saw it as part of his humor, like the way he curled his lip into a sneer.
He made no attempts to socialize, and no one, not Buzzy, or George, or Red, approached them. But Elvis promised Regis they’d have more fun afterward at Leonard’s Barbeque, where they were to meet some of his friends and go on to a party. They drove out and waited, but nobody ever showed. Regis could tell it bothered him, and finally, chagrined, Elvis took her home.
A few weeks after the prom, Elvis dropped by her house and found the family had simply vanished. Regis’s mother, financially strapped, had decided to move in with a relative. And Regis had gone to Florida to help her older sister, who was expecting a baby.
“I jumped at the chance, because going to Florida and living in a stable home was a lot more inviting than staying in Memphis with this fractured family life.” Yet she couldn’t bring herself to tell Elvis how bad her situation was. They’d moved so many times, and she was embarrassed. Besides, “girls didn’t call boys in those days,” so she never said good-bye. Like Billie, she just moved off and left. To Elvis, it must have felt as if he’d been spurned three times in a row—by Betty, Billie, and now Regis. He never learned any different.
“I’ve always regretted that. I just figured he’d find out I had left by driving by the house. I’ve often wondered if he knocked on the door and saw all these strangers, the other people who rented rooms, and wondered who they were.”
In the move, Regis lost her photo of her prom date. But Elvis kept his, and a few years later, Gladys gave a copy to a fan magazine. By then Elvis was a teen heartthrob and a national sensation, with very specific dance moves all his own.
 
 
 
Dixie Locke and Elvis at her junior prom, May 6, 1955. Gladys bought her dress. “I was waiting for her to get out of school so we could get married,” Elvis said years later. (Courtesy of David Troedson/Elvis Australia)
 
 
21 hours ago - Via Reshared Post - View -
https://plus.google.com/100676287824279570479 Western MA News : Belchertown Police searching for missing teenager http://wwlp.com/2014/10/31/belchertown-police-searching...
Belchertown Police searching for missing teenager http://wwlp.com/2014/10/31/belchertown-police-searching-for-missing-teenager/

BELCHERTOWN, Mass. (WWLP) – Belchertown Police are searching for a missing teenager.

Police are looking for Trey Seymour, 16,  who is about 6′ tall and was last seen wearing blue jeans, red hooded sweatshirt and yellow sneakers.

The police department has released very few details at this time as they continue to investigate this case. We will provide additional details as we get them.

If you have any information you are asked to call Belchertown Police at (413) 323-6685.
Belchertown Police searching for missing teenager
Just one day after a teen from Amherst was found, police in the Hampshire Cty are searching for another missing teen in Belchertown.
21 hours ago - Via - View -
https://plus.google.com/107633387420414951331 Cinihot : Sheena Cute Photos In Tight Jeans and Sleeveless Telugu actress "Sheena Shahabadi" so cute and hot photos...
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Cinihot - Actress Latest Hot Photoshoot Previews : Sheena Cute Photos In Tight Jeans and Sleeveless
22 hours ago - Via Google+ - View -
https://plus.google.com/105429240478727000302 Jack Lindley : All UI would like to know , does this so called cloud have anything to do with the street I live on ...
All UI would like to know , does this so called cloud have anything to do with the street I live on .. Because Boy Hidy , thee commune ( and Google made me include communities on my profile ,I suppose to veer me away from the general public . well f---k em , I ain't gonna stop my writing about this inane stuff . My GOD , what do they expect of me , to put a condom on my brain....
Nope , isn't going happen ... So hello everyone ! Your are going to get a piece of pie , that isnt going to predictable . Much like he says on NCIS ,
THERE IS NO LONGER SUCH A THING AS COINCIDENCE .... UH UM not to be an asshole , but c'mon man ,JACK AND THE BEANSTALK ,AS WELL , THE ADVENTURES OF LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD ... THEN ALONG CAME WALT , IT'S A KNOWN FACT HE SPENT MORE TIME AND N MEXICO , DRINKING AND DOING MORE PEYOTE BUTTONS THAN THE POUNDS OF WEED , THEY SMOKED ON THE FILMING OF EASY RIDER . OK , Mom I will turn the fun music , BIIITTCH ! SO IF ANYONE , IS INTERESTED I WILL BE HERE IN MY COMMUNITY ... BUT MINE IS A COMMUNE AND PARTY CITY CENTRAL , LADIES AND GENTLEMEN KNOW THIS , I AM A CERTIFIABLE , FULL BLOODED , ALL AROUND POWDER RIVER , LET HER BUCK AND IF YOU LIE TO ME , STEAL ARE CHEAT WITH my OLD LADY ARE TEXAS'S HOLD EM !
EXPECT THIS TO HAPPEN ) I will find you _ ,if I have to hire TONTO TO track you, are even He is in it also ,Joesmity Sam . I WILL POP A CAP IN YOUR ASS AND STICK A PIECE OF DYNAMITE UP YOUR WAZOO ! LIGHT THE DYNOMITE , PUT SOME C-4 IN BOTH EARS AND YOUR NOSE ,PUSH YOU OFF A CLIFF AND HOPE YOU LIVE THROUGH IT , SO I CAN DO IT TWO MORE TIMES ... IT'S ONLY THE WATER BOARDING I WANT TO GET TO : BUT IN YOUR CASE , Man , woman are a damn good horse , I do it the old fashion way , instead of water , we used boiling water with oh maybe including some Muriatic acid and good old TIDE .... Instead of just plain water $ so put that in your crack pipe , peace pipe , joint are , I think you get the picture , cause where I come from , here in Texas no less , are THESE LAWS , you steal from us , one thin dime are lie , don't think about killen , one of us . We will and have burnt you in the electric chair , hung you and set your house on fire . (for stealing are women away) .... Are hurting , I mean even pulling
a hang nail from one of our children ; you are one dead " MO---R / FU---R ! GOT IT , ASSH---E ... AND I HAVE TO BE GOING NOW BRB , with some interesting factors later !
Jack p. Lindley . KIDS STAY IN SCHOOL , STAY OFF DOPE ,just listen to a crack head some time and first words out of their mouth , is GOT ANY MONEY I CAN BORROW ? As well as the alcoholic , Always STILL , STILL BORROWING , ( unless they work for the government) , are the ones that are STILL SICK , STILL tired , STILL ,looking for a job , STILL , wanting to borrow some food ( whoever paid back FOOD , what are they going to do , throw up and bring it back to you . I always know STILL people , when they say " do you have a cigarette , " do this to them . Buy a carton of em make the idiot sit on the curb and smoke every damn one of em !
Oh hell ! I'm late . I was supposed to be at a writers guild meeting tonight at 9:00 P.M. TO give a lecture on Abbey Hoffman's novel " STEAL THIS BOOK " , and as well , THE ELECTRIC KOOL - AID ACID TEST by Ken Kesey and bull shit a while about " Under the Grand Stands " by Seymore Butts !
So guys and girls : keep the faith , PEACE , LOVE WOODSTOCK And DAMN THE TORPEDOS , FULL SPEED AHEAD along with F---k em all Kill em and feed em fish heads !!! This is not a good time to say this , but , damn it man , give the guy a break , he is doing better than a lot of you would , Mr . President O'Bama , SIR , KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK and there isn't many of the people who are willing to be President , but they sure do bitch about you , Ain't gonna happen with me sir . I might have a few days that are bad , but I' m still looking at numbers and seeing colors , so budget wise I am going down to tap out out out !!!!! But I will be there if you ask , Weopon , SAW OF COURSE , TO STAND UP FOR OUR NATION , ONE NATION , Under something out there let's say GOOOD , like the old preachers did and of course - undivided , invisible , with LIBERTY ? And JUSTICE ?????? , For all them rich folks out there.
There is no place like home , I just wish I had a damn good tent .
Say good night Gracie ! GOOD NIGHT DICK ! I got blisters , on my fingers , a knife cut , on my right hand , a headache and muscle cramps like vise grips on my left temple , but hell I have had that , have'nt we john , I have to include my brother , because he always jumps me when I least expect it about saying are even using the I in a since , are my , are me , even oh well , oh even when your going to the bathroom . Then your saying, I have to , but shit no way , he will stop you and say ,there you go again , using that word
, what does expect, out of a human being ? Should maybe the dog be picked up and carried with me , so then it would be , We , the dog and well hell , there is the word again . IIIIIIII ,Am there supposed to be a conjunctive verb that explains the way out , of trying to take a dump . Nope , isn't going to happen , you explain to him ....how that crap , is going to be washed out of your blue jeans when all boingyou have done , is stayed up all night , waiting , hoping and praying , you will not be awakened , by a person beating in your door , because their conjunctive reasoning will not work well enough to figure out , that just because the car hood was not lowered . Was not , and I repeat " was not " a sign , that I was getting my tools together to do a major overhaul of a car , that I had just finished , checking the brake fluid , air in the tires , antifreeze and oil level ( dipstick) , That , was to make a point . And was getting ready to do the glass . When , kind of like Christmas , much to my surprise ! Ten tiny Red Reindeer , pulled in the drive way and said , do you know what , is wrong with the captain ? Oh hell here I go again , Father , Priest , Bishop , Police- Officer , what on God's green earth , am I supposed to be this time , a fortune teller .
A very young lady , for the use of a better term . Stops with those words , now not being able to walk past her and the car are even maybe f----in jump that , whatever she is 5' 6" tall , I had to stop and say , I have no unearthly idea what your talking about . When she , then says , well is he mad are what . And , my not knowing if he is are like it is any business of mine in the first place ....... Say _ , child , baby girl , all I know is , that when I came out , he was going in his bedroom . However , she is doing that incessant texting while I'm saying this , but to try and finally close my thoughts for the day . She then startup again , like I'm Father Murphy , of an orphans home says , ddddddaaaa blah , blah , blah , blh , blah . I put my hand up and say these exact words . Baby girl , all I can tell you is this , This is something u should talk to him about , ? As well , I also repeated the word for the day , and every fn day I have been here . This is his ship , and He , not me is the captain of the ship , blah , blah , blah , she goes on when I interrupted with , how about your car ? , when did you check you oil last . blah blah , blah , blah
That'll be all folks !!! I end up with me , worrying , all fuckin night long , what is it going to be in the morning .
And I will be , the son of a one legged whore if I don' t even make it to the damn bathroom , that I don't get hit , with , " WHY , DID YOU LEAVETHE HOOD OF THE CAR OPEN ALL NIGHT AND ALL DAY ? WELL , IT' S YOUR CAR , I TOLD YOU YESTERDAY AFTER NOON ARE I SHOULD SAY EVENING , THAT I HAD CHECKED ALL THE FLUID LEVELS AND IT , THAT THERE MAY BE A LEAK ...... AND, JUST LIKE IN THE SONG , HERE WE GO AGAIN , HE HAS TO FIND SOMETHING TO BITCH ABOUT , EACH , AND EVERY FKN, DAY !!!!!! .
GODBHAVE MERCY ON HIM , NOT ME BECAUSE EVERY ONE SAYS , ITS ALWAYS ALL MY DAMN FAULT . FROM EVERY WE HORE , I EVER BLEW UP WITH A GRENADE , TO EVERY BROTHER, I EVER HAD AND ALL THE PEOPLE IN THE WORLD ... JACK ITS ALL YOUR FAULT . 
22 hours ago - Via Community - View -
https://plus.google.com/109052377294460956971 Don Sjerven : Indonesia  #civ5 BNW, Emperor, Turn 274-280, Finis Polynesian Invasion Tour!  The simplest way to ...
Indonesia  #civ5  
BNW, Emperor, Turn 274-280, Finis

Polynesian Invasion Tour!  The simplest way to finish was  to buy a musician with faith and go on tour in America. Nothing a little ole concert can't handle.  Hit next turn and get the perfunctory blue jeans message and victory screen.  Easy.

The last two archeologists dug up enough to theme the Louvre while airports finished.  Final tourism output was 445 per turn with Jakarta producing 290 of that. I can't resist a pun:

Drum roll please.
22 hours ago - Via Google+ - View -
https://plus.google.com/112655532936378230848 Two-Bit Matthews : Name:Keith Matthews A.K.A Two-Bit Matthews Age:17 Gender:Male Species/Race:Human position:Student ...
Name:Keith Matthews A.K.A Two-Bit Matthews
Age:17
Gender:Male
Species/Race:Human
position:Student

Intelligence:67
Agility:75
Strength:76
Weapon:Black handled switch blade
Speed:66
Determination:22
Confidence:89
Looks:100

LOOKS
Eyes:Green
Hair:Black
Skin tone:tan
Clothes:black leather jacket micky mouse shirt blue jeans hightops

Hair type:longlength
height:5'8
Weight:150bs.
Personality:Sarcastic, Funny
Birthday: March 22
Bio:Two-bit's a Greaser ((gang of the non rich kids)) and has been through seeing one of his best friends die to being a complete douche, He considers every Greaser family



Im like the only one who's thought of this from the outsiders book
https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-3l2e3wq_0YI/VFMG-FSPb9I/AAAAAAAACPU/xO4c9Ov-Pzw/w506-h750/14%2B-%2B1
23 hours ago - Via Community - View -
https://plus.google.com/102990738390312073930 kawaii neko : That's how it all started. #mileycyrus  
That's how it all started. #mileycyrus  
https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-putfBm94TKg/U0BkRra3pkI/AAAAAAAAAwc/Dw_LrrkOzTw/w506-h750/rbI7GUm.gif
1 day ago - Via Reshared Post - View -