#Fort Dix
Photo
“PATERNAL FIGURE” (FORT DIX)
GBRRRL JOHNSEN // 2023
[collage, on printed paper | 9 x 12″]
a portrait of my father unbeknownst to me at the time of artistic conception. the material was sourced from his ‘Basic Training’ hardcover manual, received upon graduation in 1969 at Fort Dix (New Jersey).
#GBRRRL JOHNSEN#artists on tumblr#collage#conceptual#contemporary art#military#war#typography#black and white#monochrome#60s#vietnam war#fort dix#new jersey#american#art#u#g
72 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fort Dix, New Jersey , 1951
Photo: Elliott Erwitt
29 notes
·
View notes
Text
youtube
#youtube#militarytraining#Joint Base McGuire-Dix-Lakehurst#Combat Readiness#Security Operations#National Guard#514th SFS#Active Duty#Air National Guard#Security Forces#Law Enforcement#Air Force#Military Base#Military Training#Defense#USAF#Air Reserve#Military Personnel.#Tactical Training#Airman#AF PRE MOB Training#Military Exercises#514th Security Forces Squadron#FORT DIX#Shooting#Range Complex#New Jersey#Training Facility#United States#Exercise
0 notes
Text
Secrets at altitude: The turbulent life of Buster Chander
Lawrence “Buster” Chander gazed blankly out the United Airlines Boeing 737 window, the vast, open sky mirroring the expanse of his life, which now teetered on the brink of collapse.At nearly 80, Buster stood as a stalwart figure in Montana, revered for the success of Chander Ranch Beef, a legacy he had nurtured into an international brand. But as the plane cut through the clouds toward Denver,…
View On WordPress
#blackmail#Fort Dix#gay baths#homosexuality#Lawrence "Buster" Chander#National Western Stock Show
0 notes
Text
Lost Duffle Bag
For the past couple of weeks I’ve not been recording any dream experience as I should. Usually, I hold memories 24 to 48 hours before they begin to fade. But for some reason, I have not been retaining memories that makes sense after six hours. Maybe there is some sort of switch in energy. I guess it is another thing that I would have to evaluate.
The setting of this latest dream occurred at Fort…
View On WordPress
#barracks#camera#cell phone#chow#equipment#era#food#Fort Dix#lost#National Guard#pictures#restaurants#soldiers#unit#wandering#world war II
0 notes
Text
Miracles à plume
Défit d’écriture 30 jours pour écrire, 1er août
Thème : vivantes/après la fin du monde
.
.
Elle avance parmi les gravats, sans but. Un silence de mort plane sur l’endroit. Cette idée la fait pouffer toute seule. Un silence de mort. Ça, c’est une expression sacrément bien choisie, pas de doute.
Un silence des morts, même, pourrait-on dire.
Mais hé, tout le monde n’est pas mort, n’est-ce pas ? Elle elle est vivante. Le seul être vivant à des kilomètres à la ronde. Toute fraiche sortie de sa cave, pour découvrir qu’à la surface, il n’y avait plus rien. Enfin, il reste des traces de vie. D’une vie passée. Trépassée. Il reste des ruines. Des décombres. Des cadavres. Si on peut considérer ces restes calcinés comme des corps humains. Enfin, d’une certaine manière, c’est sans doute mieux comme ça.
Où va-t-elle aller maintenant ? Elle n’en sait rien. C’est ça le problème avec la fin du monde : ça concerne tout le monde. Et il ne reste rien…
Elle marche, parce que rester sur place serait intolérable.
Elle marche, parce qu’elle ne parvient pas à crier l’atrocité qui lui brûle les poumons, et que si elle était immobile elle finirait broyée par cette souffrance, par cette agonie. Et elle n’est pas restée en vie pour agoniser, n’est-ce pas ?
Marcher, c’est ce que font les vivants. Un pas après l’autre, et on recommence. Une petite silhouette qui se balance, si menue, tout au fond du paysage. Un pas après l’autre et on recommence.
Jusqu’à ce qu’elle entende un écho, un bruit qui n’est pas celui de ses propres pas, de son propre souffle. Un bruit qui ressemble à un… gloussement ?
Elle s’immobilise, toute ouïe, tendue comme un arc. Ça ne peut pas être son esprit qui lui joue des tours, non ? C’est forcément réel ? Quelque chose qui a gloussé ? Quelque chose qui glousse encore ? Qui lâche un soupir plaintif ? Qui est bien réel ? Qui est bien vivant ?
A pas de loup, elle se glisse plus près du bruit. Derrière les décombres, au-delà du spectre des rues, dans les jardins qui deviennent des terrains vagues, entre les bosquets remplis de ronce, elle trouve des poules. Une dizaine de poules, très vivantes, très bruyantes, très contentes visiblement que tout ce bazar soit terminé, et d’avoir trouvé une ouverture pour fuir leur improbable poulailler… Elles gloussent et caquètent, ou tous les autres bruits qui peuvent accompagner des gallinacées en pleine exploration, qui ont l’air très bavardes entre elles. La survivante n’a jamais vu de poule de si près, à la réflexion. Elle est absolument incapable de dire si les volailles ont l’air en bonne forme ou bouleversées par tout ce qui s’est passé. Et ça n’a aucune importance. Vivantes ! Elles sont vivantes, toutes, et toutes magnifiques et hilarantes, et douces, et belles, et absolument grandioses ! Dix petits miracles à plume qui viennent gentiment lui picorer les lacets, au cas où elle ait de quoi manger.
Elle va chercher. Pour ses nouvelles amies, ça c’est sûr, elle va chercher ! Quel but encourageant : nourrir les poules, abreuver les poules, abriter les poules, protéger les poules. Il y a tellement à faire ! Elles sont vivantes, elles doivent le rester.
Après tout, il faut prendre soin des miracles.
#30jourspourécrire#30 jours pour écrire#1er août 2023#vivantes#après la fin du monde#on attaque fort on attaque classique avec un début de post-apo#je ne sais pas non plus comment les poules ont survécu#mais pourquoi pas ?#bon dix poules ça ne va permettre à notre héroine d’aller bien loin#mais c’est déjà un début#french#french writer#écriture
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
Kebijakan Vaksin Banyak tentara terbunuh oleh Vaksin bukan Senjata
Uji coba Vaksin Sebelum Perang Dunia I banyak tentara terbunuh oleh Vaksin sekitar 40.000.000 orang di seluruh dunia.
“lebih banyak tentara terbunuh oleh tembakan vaksin daripada tembakan dari senjata musuh.”–E. McBean.
Pada tahun 1918, Angkatan Darat AS memaksa vaksinasi 3.285.376 penduduk asli di Filipina ketika tidak ada epidemi yang terjadi, hanya kasus sporadis yang bersifat ringan biasa. Dari orang yang divaksinasi, 47.369 menderita cacar, dan 16.477 di antaranya meninggal. Pada tahun 1919 percobaan digandakan. 7.670.252 penduduk asli divaksinasi. Dari jumlah tersebut 65.180 korban terkena cacar, dan 44.408 meninggal. Pada percobaan pertama, sepertiga meninggal, dan pada percobaan kedua, dua pertiga dari yang terinfeksi meninggal. dari buku Dr. William Koch, The Survival Factor in Neoplastic and Viral Diseases.
Selengkapnya klik disini.
#Fort Dix dikenal sebagai pusat uji coba vaksin#Tentara terbunuh oleh tembakan vaksin daripada tembakan senjata musuh#Senjata vaksin membunuh masyarakat Dunia#Kebijakan vaksin#Bisnis Vaksin#Menyebarkan virus dan menjual penawar virus
0 notes
Text
Bisnis Vaksin Sebelum Perang Dunia I banyak militer meninggal akibat Kebijakan Vaksin
Bisnis Vaksin Sebelum Perang Dunia I banyak militer meninggal akibat Kebijakan Vaksin
Uji coba Vaksin Sebelum Perang Dunia I banyak tentara terbunuh oleh Vaksin sekitar 40.000.000 orang di seluruh dunia.
Vaksin AS Menyebabkan ‘Flu Spanyol’ – Informasi Lebih Lanjut.
Dari Pembebasan Vaksinasi Ingri Cassel – Idaho : Bab 12-1-3.Berikut ini adalah tambahan dari Sheri Nakken tentang epidemi “Flu Spanyol” tahun 1918.“Itu adalah ungkapan umum selama perang bahwa
“lebih banyak tentara…
View On WordPress
#Bisnis Vaksin dunia#Fort Dix dikenal sebagai pusat uji coba vaksin#Senjata vaksin membunuh masyarakat Dunia#Tentara terbunuh oleh tembakan vaksin daripada tembakan senjata musuh
0 notes
Text
Das Finale der Women's Tennis Association kommt nach Fort Worth
Das Finale der Women’s Tennis Association kommt nach Fort Worth
Coco Gauff ist eine von acht Einzelspielerinnen bei den diesjährigen Women’s Tennis Association Finals.
Andy Braunbell
AP
Fort Worth
Acht der weltbesten Tennisspielerinnen werden nächste Woche in der Dickies Arena gegeneinander antreten, darunter die Amerikanerinnen Coco Gauff und Jessica Pegula.
Das Damen-Tennis-Vereinigung Veranstaltet eine Abschlussveranstaltung in Dickies-Arena in Fort…
View On WordPress
0 notes
Text
I'm due at Fort Dix in two days.
FELLOW TRAVELERS 1.05 ❝ Promise You Won't Write ❞
#fellow travelers#fellowtravelersedit#jonathan bailey#matt bomer#tim laughlin#hawkins fuller#usergay#lgbtq+#*#ft105
363 notes
·
View notes
Text
Telegram from President Abraham Lincoln to Major General John A. Dix, Commanding at New York, Regarding the New York World and New York Journal of Commerce
Record Group 107: Records of the Office of the Secretary of WarSeries: Telegrams Sent and Received By The War Department Central Telegraph Office.File Unit: Telegrams Sent By President Abraham Lincoln, March 10 - October 11, 1864
[blue stamp in upper right corner] WAR RECORDS PRINTED 1861-1865 Executive Mansion To Maj. Gen'l Dix, Washington, May 18, 1864 [underlined] Commanding, at New York. -- Whereas, there has been wickedly and traitorously printed and publi this morning, in the "New York World" and New York "Journal of Commerce", newspapers printed and published in the city of New York, - a false and spurious proclamation, purporting to be signed by the President. and to be countersigned by the Secretary of State, which publication is of a treasonable nature, designed to give aid and comfort to the enemies of the United States, and to the rebels now at war against the Government, and their aiders and abettors You are therefore hereby commanded forthwith to arrest and imprison in an y fort or Military prison in your command, the editors, proprietors and publishers of the afore said newspapers, and all such persons as, after public notice has been given of the falsehood of said publication. print and publish the same, with intent to give aid and comfort to the enemy. - and you will hold the persons so arrested. in close custody, until they can be brought to trail before a military commission, for their offense. - Your will also take possession by military force, of the printing establishments of the "New York World" and "Journal of Commerce", and hold the same until fur order, and prevent any further publication therefrom, A.Lincoln
123 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fort Dix to Memphis
Summary: Having traveled for 24 hours, hopped two continents and crossed an ocean, little baby Rosalee has no more patience for the endless homecoming interviews and pageantry required of her Daddy’s precious time, time that should be her’s in this strange, loud, American new world. What’s a new father to do when his baby “Schnucki” won’t stop wailing when he leaves her? Why, do the interviews with her in his coat, of course!
Warnings: Fluffy and wholesome as can be, PG, only small upsets may include a woman nursing, a father helping a baby latch while nursing, colonel parker not minding his business and trying to shove Elaine out of the public eye, Journalists being passive aggressive, little children in some distress
Word count: 4k
Requested: yes
Masterlist
Circa: Early Spring, 1960
“I don’t think she’ll settle without nursing.” Elaine really tried to keep the emphaticism out of her voice as she reclined into the rather luxurious bed the sleeper car was furnished with, watching as Elvis paced in the tiny walk between the window and bed, cradling a fussing Rosalee, lights turned down to nearly nothing and her baby cheek pressed to his just like she liked it. She wouldn’t fully go under though, and Elvis was certain she suspected his motive of making her sleep to then slip out and speak to the journalists waiting outside, while Elaine surmised it was an empty belly keeping the sweet dreams away.
Dark Cherry wood paneling and padded headboards that made it easy to lean against and nurse, low lighting that made it feel like something out of the old Hollywood movies, the train car was coziness personified -and of course Elaine had her exhausted children all in a tidy row between her and the vibrating train wall. All but Rosalee.
Colonel Parker had balked at the expense of such a luxury car, an en-suite bathroom, two beds making an L in the room and a little sitting room adjacent through a door, perfect for press and visitors -and play space- on the long trip. Elvis thought it was perfect for his family, and that’s where he and his manager differed. Colonel Parker had been very eager and very full of plans upon meeting the freshly stateside Presley’s. He’d come aboard the plane as soon as it touched down at Fort Dix and stressed the importance of Elvis going off solo.
“Colonel, I’ve got four children outta the womb, and my wife’s only got two hands.” Elvis had pointed out the obvious and that logic had won over the Snow Job’s dream of reintroducing a rehabilitated and unencumbered Memphis Flash back to the American public.
Colonel Parker then had some ideas about various ways to ship Elaine back to the backwater by cattlecar while Elvis did press in the north -alright he didn’t put it like that but it was the essence of his intent, according to Elaine’s shrewd perception, so much so even her father, Mr. Phipps had balked in offense at the obvious intention of shoving Elaine and her growing belly away from public view.
If Elvis Presley wanted to be so besotted with her that he’d give her five children in less than four years, he could damn well walk down a jetway with her. A sentiment her Mopey agreed with, of course he did.
And before much more fuss could be made, Charlie Hodge and good ole Rex Harrison had spent their newly demobilized time procuring the best train car on the line, and they spent a great deal of Elvis’ money to incentivize that train car to go to Memphis instead of Baltimore.
Those were the sorts of logistics, haggling and arrangements that Elaine usually took great interest and responsibility for negotiating, but freshly arrived from a transatlantic flight, three press conferences deep, decently pregnant and toting four children and a jumpy husband, she found herself ceding such tactical responsibilities for the seemingly endless amount of breast-feeding and lullaby singing her jet-lagged infants needed.
To be honest she was exhausted. As was Elvis. And their children. So much traveling and so much interacting and never a quiet moment. If one pair of twins was down the other roused and neither parent had gotten a full hour of uninterrupted sleep in two days. But still, Elaine felt happy with the warmth finally soaking into her as she snuggled beneath down covers with three little heaters tucked beside her, Daisy Mae dozing at her breast.
And she got to watch Elvis pace and coo and take the responsibility of soothing Rosalee very seriously, he always did.
“C’mon Schnucki, daddy ain’t goin’ nowhere far, hims right here, you jus’ lay your pretty lil head down and close those pretty yittle eyes, alright? You just close them eyes and picture a pretty green lawn with lil blankets on it and wildflowers we can pick and I’ll even get you little lambs to jump around and -that’s home Schnuki, we’re gonna be home tomorrow baby. I know, I know s’been so long for daddy too, hims could cry to, I could, I swear I could but it’s happier to think ‘bout bein’ there soon, and if you close your yittle eyes and dream bout them pretty clover flowers, you’ll get there even sooner. Did ya know that, Schnucki? Sleep makes ya time travel, it does, honest, baby. It does. So you just close those lil eyes-“
His low, murmuring babble was so soothing Elaine felt her arm holding Daisy go limp and she nodded off for a breed second before a resumption of Rosalee’s pitiful fussing jarred her again.
“Elvis baby, let’s try nursing.” she whispered gently, snagging his blazer hem on one of his turns along the little path he’d made and keeping him close.
He pulled Rosalee off his shoulder and held her little onesie clad form at arms length, surveying his inconsolable little one. “I dunno, ya look pretty fat Rosy, but I reckon there’s always room for more, hmm? Hmm baby? You wanna snuggle with mama’s titties, hmm? Get you all nice and warm and full of milk.” he stepped closer to the bed and Elaine scooted aside, with some fear of crushing her other children, to give him room to sit beside her, “C’mon Schnucki, go to mama, baby girl, get your tummy full so those rumbly tumbly feelin’s don’t wake ya up.”
Elvis’ large hands laid his little bundle on the breast that Daisy had not just supped from and helped Elaine position Rosalee in the crook of her mama’s elbow. He helped straighten her legs and tipped her on her side and when she kept turning her little head to watch him instead of focusing on the task in hand, Elvis even fed her little mouth the nipple like feeding a dog a treat. He squished her cheeks closed and tugged at Elaine’s bud until the milk came out and at it sprayed on Rosalee’s palette the baby’s eyes finally lit up.
“There we go,” Elvis laughed quietly, “don’t know what’s good for ya yet. Shouldn't doubt me Schnucki, I knows what’s best for hers, yes I do, and I always wants what’s best and I know, I know that look, good ain’t it? S’warm and sweet and so soft for your cheek, mhmm, nothin’ to fight.” he crouched over her for a minute as she latched and vigorously began to suck, much to Elaine’s relief, and he ran his fingers across her poofy baby cheek.
Elvis and Elaine watched her, too tired to make conversation or wish to break the hypnotically cozy spell Elvis’ cajoling nursery talk had lulled them all into. Jesse stretched in his sleep beside Elaine and cracked open an eye, smiling a silly, happy, lax mouthed smile at seeing his daddy still there. Elvis laid his hand on his boy’s chest and the the little guy turned on his side, rolling his body around it for a moment before falling back to sleep.
“God, y'all look so cozy, could break my heart.” Elvis mumbled as he took his hand back from Jesse’s lax hold, his other still supporting Rosalee’s bum as the baby girl would unlatch and search frantically for him whenever his touch left.
“You could stay.” Elaine pointed out the obvious, reaching her hand to swoop up the glorious flip of hair he had grown out. In the dim light, and even the bright sunshine, now that he’d grown out his army cut, it was more obvious than ever where Rosalee got her chestnut locks. “Don’t have to do press tonight.” she thumbed at his under eyes, marveling how a man could look so beautiful and so exhausted all at once.
“Naw naw, they’re waiting.” he jerked his head back at the sitting room and the low hum of the waiting reporter’s voices through the door, “If I do it tonight, won’t have to do it tomorrow and with any luck they’ll hop off on some northerly station and we’ll have a spot of peace ‘fore Memphis.”
“Alright.” she murmured, holding very still as Rosalee had come unlatched, cheek squished to Elaine’s large breast and her breath coming out in steady little puffs. “Do you think she’s gone?” she asked the man who knew her best after a bit of study.
“I-I think, I think so.” he hesitated, peering at her pink eyelids and the lax set of her mouth.
“She’s gone very limp.” Elaine remarked.
“Here I’ll try takin’ my hand back a-and if that works I’ll wait a minute and get up.” he suggested, slowly pulling his hand away from his infant's body with all the slow precision of a man dismantling a bomb.
Both hands clutched to his chest, Elvis and Elaine watched to see if baby so much as twitched but 48 hours of traveling seemed to catch up with their Rosalee and she didn’t move a muscle. Elvis carefully snagged a pillow and brought it under Elaine’s arm now she was holding all the weight and she carefully snuggled into a position she could maintain without moving for however long the press conference took.
“You alright mamas?” he asked her as he gravely reviewed his precautions for her comfort.
“I’m perfect.” she whispered, pursing her lips and he leaned over her gently, pressing his forehead to her mouth as he knew she wanted. “Oh I’ve stained you.” she lamented, the faded remnants of her lipstick having transferred to his golden face.
He snickered softly and rose from the bed with as little motion as he could, using those strong thighs of his to leverage straight up without a bounce and when he was successful in not waking the Schnucki Monster he went into the en-suite bathroom and reviewed the pale kiss mark above his brow. It was barely noticeable and rather affectingly situated, like a pretty stamp above his more mobile eyebrow.
As Elvis stared at it his heart twisted with a burning loyalty for the woman in bed with his five children while the Colonel’s words ricocheted in his mind until he found himself emphatically redoing his lashes with more than a moderate coat of mascara and after a moment's hesitation, he opened Elaine’s matching toilette bag and took from it today’s shade of coral. Unscrewing the gold cap he pondered it for a moment before leaning into the mirror and gently dabbing it onto the places where her kiss mark failed to make an outline. He was cautious not to overdo it, pulling back to review his entire face and take in the effect.
He had no desire to make her favor look garish, but neither did he want it unnoticed. He looked rather like one of last war’s recruiting posters, white smile, long hair, fresh face with a big smooch printed thereon.
He knew all these press conferences weren’t just about his career. They were according to his manager but for Elvis, he knew he was coming back to a rather different place than he left, social change and an upcoming election had galvanized folks into a sorta mood Elvis hadn’t had the chance to gauge for himself. And in it he wanted to find his footing again, not just as a star but as somebody who could do good. And he couldn’t do nothing without Laney, whatever Parker said, and poor Laney had suffered enough, been put through the American press for her pretty figure and affectionate ways.
And for daring to love him so well.
It wasn’t just his image. It was hers too, that he was re-introducing, and as such he was introducing the parents of his children, going out there to talk about movies was only the side issue, he had the Presley reputation to establish. Tired as he was, Elvis didn’t feel daunted by it, he felt energized and revved up at the prospect of such momentous responsibilities and he snapped the lid on Laney’s lipstick with an emphatic snap of his thumb.
Elvis liked the ‘loved on’ look. He’d never pretended he didn’t with his fan’s love and he wouldn’t with his wife’s.
He exited the bathroom and upon seeing Elaine as dead asleep sitting up in bed as the rest of the babies, he tiptoed out of the cozy space and cracked open the door, squeezing out and shutting it gently, much to the amusement and chuckling cooperation of the reporters waiting outside.
“Whole crew’s sleepin’ in there, gotta stay quiet, man. How’re y’all doing?” he asked them, basking in the colder air that whistled through the cracked window and took his seat on one of the benches, splitting a smile as a camera flash whited out his vision.
It had been near twenty minutes when Elaine was roused from the dead and dreamless sleep she’d fallen into by the shift of Rosalee’s sweaty little head on her chest. She increased the calming pressure of her hand on the little girl’s back and held very still, hoping it was a gesture in sleep. It wasn’t. Soon after she began to root around and whimper, upon waking up enough to notice soft feminine flesh beneath her cheek she began to fully cry, endangering the rest of the others. Elaine promptly untangled herself and stood up, walking away from the others, pacing by the door, trying to hush her poor infant.
“-besides those three films lined up I-I-I really d-don’t have plans, no, I-I-“ Elvis paused in his answer as the sound of crying came from the inner room. He knew which baby it was and his heart clenched.
“Oops!” one of the reporters snickered, a sympathetic father who knew how annoying it could be to have a baby crying all night, keeping a guy up and the wife not able to make it hush.
“I-I uh…” Elvis tried to go on but the cries increased and while it wouldn’t disturb the journalists or even be perceptible on the recordings, he couldn’t bear it. “If you’ll excuse me, gentleman.” he apologized as he rose, determined and unabashed as he crossed across the train car and wove through the pack of reporters back to the suite door.
“Oh darling I’m sorry.” Laney gushed as he slipped in and cast a wary glance at the stirring children left in the bed.
“Don’t be.” he told her sharply and didn’t even ask for the baby, just took her out of Elaine’s arms with surety and sushed her with his familiar hums. “Ain’t no reason to be apart, we’ll just buddy up for this, huh Schnucki?” he murmured and Elaine’s eyes went wide.
“You’re going to do press with -a child?” It wasn’t an image anyone in Hollywood or even politics really tried to create, the family man leading man wasn’t really a seller at the box office or in the gossip column. Not unless he had affairs and regularly got redeemed by famous children, she supposed the Fairbanks might yet prove role models.
“I’m gonna hold my baby while they ask me questions.” he framed it with a pointed look and placed a kiss of his own on Elaine's forehead, “Now I can’t keep ‘em waiting. Go get warm, go, move that cute lil butt, go, shoo!” he swatted her nighty clad backside until she had the covers up to her chin again and Ella tucked into her side. It wasn’t till he had turned back and headed out the door that Elaine gasped in recognition of the kiss mark.
The chattering greetings of the journalists upon his re-emergence quieted as soon as they noticed the bundle in his arms as he stepped back through their ranks to his seat. Sitting with all the nonchalant confidence of a king as he tucked his pacified child into the crook of his elbow and patted her bottom rhythmically with a bejeweled hand. Those who had once lingered around him on tour, chasing him down backstage to snatch sound bites and headliner quotes over the scream of women and the edgy young performers' preoccupation with kissing and winking at every passing female were astounded by the change.
Bob Gary, one of the reporters who had covered his stardom since the hayride and had the pleasure of meeting Miss Gladys, god rest her, was a little less astounded than others that her wild boy had in him the makings of a lovely young man. Bob always thought Elvis was respectful and always got a sense of goodness when around Elvis. It made sense Elvis would set his mind to good fatherhood and perform its functions with as little shame as he felt when moving to his music. “Now who do we have here?” Bob asked kindly after the quiet room got a little too absurd even by journalistic standards.
“We’ve got a pretty little lady joining us, gentleman, this is Rosalee Presley, prefers to be called Schnuki but maybe not by you strange men. Heh.” Elvis proclaimed his sniveling baby’s chosen name proudly and jostled her mopey self a little, only succeeding in making her pout further into his jacket but the tears had ceased. “All this travelin’ has been doin’ their heads in, man, my poor babies. So, you mustn’t mistake her whinin’ as personality, ya see she’s been a very stable baby, hasn’t ever been outside Germany, ‘cept for a trip to Paris, and now she’s across the whole ocean. That’s a heap of miles for a yittle itty-bitty thang like her, you understand gentleman? So as I was sayin’, my lil daughter’s most congenial, most nights, gonna have to forgive her tonight*
Bob Gary laughed as did a few of the press who were equally lost on the topic but eager to return to their questions. “Why can’t her mother calm her?” one fellow asked benignly and Elvis squinted at him, jaw tickling before he smoothed his face and shrugged:
“My wife’s jugglin’ four kids in there, includin’ the one cookin and she does a remarkable job.'' Perhaps Elvis said it sharper than he meant to, but Bob Gary licked his pencil stub and got to writing, paper didn’t convey tone unless the writer mentioned it. “A-a-and see, me and my Rosalee,” the young father went on, “we’re the same, two peas in a pod. I’m the same when she ain’t around, get all mopey and the like. I do man, I do. Got my own lil wooby here, uhuh. What? Oh ha! Sure sure, call it that. Emotional crutch, whatever man I-I-I -all I know is I-I need her, man. What? You ain’t ever wanted to hang out with your kid? They’re a heap of fun man, don’t talk over ya neither.”
“Can we see her face, Elvis?” Asked one hopeful with his camera at the ready.
Elvis thoughtfully prodded Rosalee’s pink cheek but the little girl was always shy of crowds, worse yet when they were masculine ones and despite Elvis’ little pokes his baby only burrowed deeper, as if aware of his query and answering it with a wriggle that buried her face beneath his jacket’s lapel.
“Aww man, I think she’s too shy for that.” Elvis decided, carefully tucking her further in, her chubby little legs, two dangling feet and the back of her reddish head the only visible parts of her. “Now I don’t want y’all thinkin’ this is her usual personality, -all the travellin’s been rough on her.”
“I bet it’s hard on all the kids.”
“I-i-it’s challenging, sure.” Elvis nodded, running a soothing hand up her sweaty back, “But we’re headed home. Gonna be right as rain, soon as we get to Memphis, I just know it. Ya know these last two, they were born in Germany! Ain’t ever been home yet, they’re restless for it.”
That seemed a bit improbable for a bunch of city slickers who considered home to be a vague notion of rented flats and let rooms and so one asked:
“__Mr. Presley, you’ve quite the large family now, uh, how old is your daughter? Hard to keep up.“
“She’s not yet one.”
“—And your wife’s already expecting again, correct?“
“Yessir she is.” Elvis nodded soberly and he felt little Rosalee begin to forget her bashfulness and twist herself a little so she could play with the rings on his left hand.
“Does the growth of your family surprise you? It certainly surprised the rest of the nation. Do you have any regrets?“
Elvis thought about the adoring bundle in his arms who gave him all the terrifyingly unconditional trust he always wanted to be saddled with and stuttered out a reply after clearing his throat, “Well uh, no sir, not really. My wife she -she was on me like a duck on a junebug, sir, right away like. And uh, I saw it as my peace keepin’ duty to keep her peaceful, ya see? Heh. So, so anyways, we’ve got all these kids now and I find them mighty precious. They’re the most special things I’ve ever had. I-I- didn’t-what we had gentleman, when we married -it weren’t no great romance, see, it were rather like the reasons our parents married. Course I love her now but we’re intentional and this is what we wanted. She’s made what coulda been some of the darkest years of my life, well she -she’s made them the best. Awww yeah you too Schnucki, yesss, of course hers too.” he trailed off with a coo as Rosalee raised her face to watch him, learning by his tone that he was talking about mama.
“—What do you expect for your little family, what with you gone to work on the movie contracts Colonel Parker has lined up for you?“
“Oh well, they’re comin’ with me, ain’t no question of that. Whole family I-I-I gotta have ‘em. They’re not a favorite pillowcase you can leave behind. Colonel Parker says the trailer ain’t big enough but he forgets they’re lil still, we all fit in a single bed. Sleep that way most nights, they’re all yittle still. And I need ‘em. They’ll be with me.”
“What’s Miss Rosalee think about seeing palm trees, huh?” the same hopeful as before, this time with his damn camera lowered, took the liberty of grabbing at one of her little feet, intending to wag it playfully but Miss Rosalee let out a wounded cry of disbelief and climbed up her father’s chest with the alacrity of a hunted koala.
Elvis tried to moderate his voice when he cautioned the young journalist, “She don’t wanna be touched, man, please don’t.” but nothing could temper the cool blue flame of his eyes at the guy’s presumption. “Hey, hey hers ok, yes hers is.” he whispered to his baby and slowly brought her down into his lap, a curled little dough ball in a soft pink onesie. “Here Schnucki, curl in baby, have at it.”
He opened his jacket wide and exposed a soft sweater beneath his blazer, dark red and with a deep neckline, he’d bought it for the cowl neck he liked for shielding from the wintry gusts and hiding his chicken neck from photographers. Rosalee likes the way it warms her up and tickles her nose, she burrows her face into his chest so fast it’s comical and the guys laughed as did Elvis gently, all while he closed his blazer back around her little body and gathered up her one vulnerable outlier in his large hands - her little footsies.
“I dunno what y’all are laughin’ at.” Elvis pretended ignorance, crooked grin about ready to split his face, “There ain’t nothin’ here, man, nothin’!” he protested as the guys wheezed in amusement over the tiny, frizzy shock of chestnut hair sticking out the top of his buttoned coat. “Now’re you fools gonna ask me about formula brands or hollywood, hmm?”
The next thirty minutes passed uneventfully, for Rosalee at least. It was warm and damp in daddy’s jacket, against his chest and she could feel the thoughtful rumble of his answers buzzing her right cheek. When he was done she felt a little whoosh of flight as he stood up but she was safe, his arm kept her anchored to him and the buttons cocooning her near his chest held up. She had been oblivious to the nervous way her daddy sweated when he dodged answering about who he’d vote for in the coming election but she had felt when he had tensed at a question about her parents’ taped phone call. She raised a clammy hand out the top of his jacket and patted his jaw till he had laughed. The press laughed too. He never answered that question after all. Rosalee smiled a proud baby smile against his sweater.
All Miss Rosalee knew was daddy laughed and then he calmed and his chest rumbled some more then there was a whoosh and the jostling of him shaking hands and soon he was walking, she could feel the bounce of his gait. “We fooled them, didn’t we Schnucki.” she heard him whisper down into the jacket.
The soft click of the door. Mama was near.
And soon, Rosalee felt a chilly little gust as the inferno was opened and the faint lights of the bedroom suite crept in as daddy unbuttoned his jacket and gently laid her down next to mama on the bed before stripping out of his clothes. Mama lay on her side in the bed and deftly slipped the lacy strap of her nighty off her shoulder, gently cupping Rosalee’s head to her breast, hoping for cooperation.
Without preamble or hesitation the little girl latched on for her midnight snack.
Elvis was slipping in beside them, tucked in with Rosalee between himself and Elaine, when his pretty wife chuckled in disbelief.
“What is it baby?” he asked, whopped from all the diplomacy and melting like butter on pancakes at the mere proximity to his little tribe.
“You smart little lady,” Elaine murmursd to Rosalee in admiration, “you know your daddy isn’t leaving anymore and now you want to eat, huh?”
Elvis grinned with half his pretty face smashed into the pillow, trying in vain to stay awake to watch one of his favorite activities under the sun -his wife feeding his babies from her own body. His eyes began to droop anyway and he found himself jolting periodically, having drifted off.
The third time he awoke like this he felt Laney’s cool fingers gently tugging his eyelids down, smudging the mascara but soothing him, “Night, night mopey, you can go now, she’s gone, too.”
Hope y’all enjoyed! Your “bugging” and “screaming” is music to my ears, fuel to my fire and keeps me writing, please never hold back -this is a safe space for feral little Elvis loving rodents…like you and me.
If you’d like to be tagged in this particular series please drop a note below. Xoxo 💋
@prompted-wordsmith
@powerofelvis
@crash-and-cure
@elvisabutler
@heartbrake-hotel
@stylespresleyhearted
@thatbanditqueen
@crazymadpassionatelove
@myradiaz
@ash-omalley
@steph-speaks
@burningloverdoll
@angelface-555
@lookingforrainbows
@missmaywemeetagain
@coolgirl462
@kingdomforapony
@18lkpeters
@richardslady121
@from-memphis-with-love
@lillypink
@artlover8992
@pennyroyalcreep
@notstefaniepresley
@ellie-24
@renaissingle
@waiting4brucewayne2adoptme
@presleyenterprise
@marriedtopresley
@ashtag2887
@dkayfixates
@vampireindistress
@ashtag6887
@i-r-i-n-a-a
@obsessedvibee
@peskybedtime
@goth-cowgirl-03
@stephthestallion
@fav-fanficssss
@loving-elvis
@honeyorangess
@soloangel
@xenaspace3-blog
@60svintage
@dragonkingsdaughter
@presleysgirl6
@that-hotdog
#elvis fanfiction#elvis presley#elvis fanfic#elvis imagine#fic#Elvis#army elvis#elvis and me#welcome home elvis#elvis on tour#elvis and priscilla#elvis presley x reader#elvispresley#elvis the pelvis#elvis presley fic#austin elvis x reader#austin elvis fandom#elvis fluff#elvis fans#elvis presley fan fic
207 notes
·
View notes
Text
During my time at OCS one of the officer candidates caught my attention. Lewis Nixon was the son of privilege and wealth. Born September 30, 1918, Nixon was the grandson of the last man to design a battleship as an individual. Educated at Yale and the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, "Nix" was far more educated than most of the members of the class. A world traveler, he returned to the family-run Nixon Nitration Works, a converted industry that manufactured cellulose nitrate to be used in tubing for pens, pencils, sheets for playing cards, and covers for eyeglass frames. Nixon entered military service at Fort Dix, New Jersey, and completed basic training at Camp Croft. Nixon was a hard drinker, a free spirit who enjoyed the wild life and partied with the best of them.
On the surface no two individuals were more diametrically opposed in temperament than Nixon and I. I was a confirmed teetotaler and never swore. I preferred a quiet evening in the barracks to the nightlife of Columbus, Georgia, or neighboring Phenix City, Alabama. Despite the differences in lifestyle, I sensed we shared mutual feelings and ways of looking at life. I could understand him and help him understand me, as well as understand himself. Our friendship evolved naturally, and he soon became my closest friend.
Lewis Nixon was the finest combat officer with whom I served under fire. He was utterly dependable and totally fearless.
/
My friend Nixon died in January 1995, and Grace asked me to give the eulogy at his funeral, which I did. Also in attendance were Clarence Hester and Bob Brewer. In my remarks, I made a point of quoting Grace, whose love and care had kept Nix alive for many years. In her many letters and Christmas cards, Grace's message was always the same: “Lewis is so brave; he never complains; he always has a smile for me whenever I come into his room—and that just makes it all worthwhile.”
Seven years later, Grace Nixon joined us in Los Angeles for the presentation of the Emmy for Best Documentary.
—How Dick Winters introduced Nix and described about the eulogy in his memoir Beyond Band of Brothers.
52 notes
·
View notes
Text
Elvis during the US Army discharge press conference at Fort Dix, New Jersey, March 3 1960.
173 notes
·
View notes
Text
Constance Bennett - The Hollywood Fox
Constance Campbell Bennett (born in New York City on October 22, 1904 – July 24, 1965) was an American actress born to an aristocratic family of actors of English and Spanish ancestry. Blonde, stunning and honey-voiced, she glided through Hollywood with a sprite-like lightness and definite air of style and sophistication, receiving the moniker, "The Hollywood Fox."
The eldest of three daughters of actress Adrienne Morrison and actor Richard Bennett, she attended the Chapin School in New York along with her sisters Joan Bennett and Barbara Bennett, both of whom were actresses.
She was first Bennett sister to enter motion pictures, appearing in New York–produced silent movies before a meeting with Samuel Goldwyn led to her Hollywood debut in 1924. She took a hiatus during a brief marriage, but resumed it after her divorce.
In the early 1930s, Bennett was frequently among the top actresses named in audience popularity and box-office polls due to hits like Topper (1937). Her contracts with Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, Warner Brothers, and RKO made her a big star in Hollywood, and her cutthroat contract negotiations earned her the sole female spot among Hollywood’s poker-playing elite comprised of top movie moguls.
By the 1940s, Bennett was working less frequently in film but was in demand in both radio and theatre, and she also formed her own production company, Constance Bennett Pictures, which produced two films. Nonetheless, shrewd investments made her a wealthy woman, even founding a cosmetics and clothing company, called "Fashion Focks."
Shortly after Madame X (1966) was completed, Bennett collapsed and died from a cerebral hemorrhage at the age of 60 in Walston Army Hospital at Fort Dix, New Jersey. In recognition of her military contributions, and as the wife of John Theron Coulter, who had achieved the rank of brigadier general, she was buried in Arlington National Cemetery.
Legacy:
Was the highest-paid actress in Hollywood during the early 1930s
Founded the Constance Bennett Cosmetics Company and a clothing company called "Fashion Frocks" in the 1930s
Formed her own production company, Constance Bennett Pictures, which produced two films: Paris Underground (1945) and Smart Woman (1948)
Made smart business investments, including holding stocks in the historic Arrowhead Springs Hotel
Awarded military honors for her role in coordinating shows flown to Europe for occupying troops (1946-48) and the Berlin Airlift (1948-49)
Nominated as the Hall of Fame: Actress Award in the 1978 Photoplay Award
Has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame for her contributions to motion pictures at 6250 Hollywood Boulevard
#Constance Bennet#Bennett Sisters#The Hollywood Fox#Silent Films#Silent Movies#Silent Era#Silent Film Stars#Golden Age of Hollywood#Classic Hollywood#Film Classics#Classic Films#Old Hollywood#Vintage Hollywood#Hollywood#Movie Star#Hollywood Walk of Fame#Walk of Fame#Movie Legends#Actress#hollywood actresses#hollywood icons#hollywood legend#movie stars#1900s
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
It's my last Tumblr post for 2023, the year that saw the release of an Elvis biopic by Buz Luhrmann. Tom Hanks received some criticism along the way for his portrayal of Parker, with everything from his prosthetic makeup to his accent being singled out. As the year ends, lets take a look at some of the pictures I've collected of the real "Thomas Andrew Parker" during his years with Elvis.
Elvis and Parker at an RCA-Paramount Pictures party at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel in Los Angeles on 18th May 1957.
Two pictures from December 21, 1957, when Elvis went to Parker's home (1215 Gallatin Road in South Madison, Tennessee) to deliver a Christmas present - a new BMW Isetta microcar.
It’s 9:15am at Fort Dix, NJ on 5th March 1960 and Elvis is being honorably discharged from the Army. As he collects his mustering out cheque for $109.54 he kids with the Colonel about his percentage. In later years that would be far from a laughing matter.
Parker shows his sense of humour during the filming Roustabout in 1964 when a birthday party is held for Elvis’ cousin, Billy Smith.
On the NBC set in Los Angeles, Elvis sung a birthday song ‘It Hurts Me’ (in an amusing parody) for the Colonel, 26 June 1968.
A couple of rare shots of Parker with baby Lisa Marie.
Two pictures of Parker and Elvis at the August 1, 1969 press conference in Las Vegas announcing Elvis' new residency at the International Hotel (the Hilton as of 1972).
In this candid shot, we see Parker in a hotel elevator while on tour in Mobile Alabama in 1971 with one of his constant business companions, longtime RCA Records executive George L. Parkhill (centre in yellow shirt). Parkhill’s main task was "working with Elvis." That basically meant he supervised Elvis' concert tours and, when Elvis was in Los Angeles, monitoring all activities that involved him being RCA's top money maker.
The Colonel below the stage as Elvis performs in Cincinnati in the Black Fireworks jumpsuit on November 11, 1971.
Parker once again staying close to this star client below the stage at the evening appearance at Madison Square Garden on June 9, 1972.
Two pictures of Parker below the stage at the afternoon show in Honolulu on November 18, 1972. In the first picture he's picked an unusual spot to have a chat with Joe Esposito.
An undated picture of Colonel Parker on tour with Elvis in the early 1970s.
Colonel Parker before a concert in Detroit at Olympia Stadium on September 29, 1974.
Perhaps the last time Parker and Elvis were photographed together was in the dressing room just before the new years eve concert in Pontiac, MI, on December 31, 1975. At the time Parker had allowed a visit by local mayor Wallace E. Holland and Oakland press writer Jackie Kallen who presented an award.
#Elvis#Elvis Presley#Colonel Tom Parker#Tom Parker#Colonel Parker#rock music#pop culture#candid#1950s#50s#fifties#1960s#60s#sixties#1970s#70s#seventies
40 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
traficante-da-paz
se oriente rapaz
pomorama
Pomorama
psysquid
certified cephalopod
tearareroom
Tea Party
sunnysideup-please
Sunny Side Up