#the king and i 1956
Text
Period dramas dresses tournament: Grey/Silver dresses Round 1- Group D: Anna Leonowens, The king and I (pics set) vs Queen Victoria, The young Victoria (pics set)
#period drama dresses tournament#tournament poll#tumblr tournament#polls#fashion poll#anna leonowens#the king and i#the king and i 1956#queen victoria#the young victoria#gs r1
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
Oscar Nominee of All Time Tournament: Round 1, Group A
(info about nominees under the poll)
YUL BRYNNER (1920-1985)
WINS:
Lead- 1956 for The King and I
--
MARGARET RUTHERFORD (1892-1972)
WINS:
Supporting- 1963 for The VIPs
#oscars#academy awards#oscar winners#actors#film#margaret rutherford#yul brynner#the vips 1963#the king and i#the king and i 1956#nominees group a#nominees group a polls
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
#elvis presley#circa 1956#elvis#elvis the king#elvis fans#elvis fandom#elvis history#50s elvis#unfortunately i know no info -- shit#but i couldn't help myself#i needed to share this#new to me
125 notes
·
View notes
Text
Elvis photographed with Barbara Gray (and cousin Junior Smith) in Richmond, VA – June 30, 1956.
In June of 1956, Barbara's friends convinced her to call Elvis in his hotel room at the Francis Marion Hotel in Charleston where Elvis had just performed in South Carolina for 4,000 screaming fans.
“I didn't really know him or what he was about. The operator answered and I just asked for Elvis Presley's room,” said Barbara.
Barbara said the 21 year old singer chatted with her for at least an hour. Being curious, Elvis invited Barbara to his next concert in Virginia.
Two days later the pair met at the diner at the Hotel Jefferson. “He just reached out and hugged me; I didn't know what to say, it was like I was numb,”
Barbara and Elvis flirted over lunch hours before his two shows at The Mosque. At the Mosque Theater Barbara said Elvis took her out to the hallway just a few feet from the stage where thousands of his fans were waiting.
Elvis was quick to move into canoodle as Barbara playfully rejected him. “Right off the bat, he started to embrace me and hug me and said “Kiss me”. I said no but he was just quick enough to lean forward and stick his tongue out and that's how quick the moment happened,” said Barbara. “At least he got a kiss of some kind,”
The moment was captured by Alfred Wertheimer and critics call it one of the most iconic and erotic photographs in American history.
#what a queen 💅🏻#my fave pics#i want to write about this aaaaah#elvis#elvis presley#elvis history#elvis presley history#elvis photos#elvis presley photos#elvis in the 50s#50s!elvis#50s elvis#alfred wertheimer#music history#king of rock n roll#the king#elvis aaron presley#1950s#1956
83 notes
·
View notes
Text
This Edwardian-style gown was created for the Ascot scene in the original 1956 Broadway production of the Lerner and Loewe musical My Fair Lady. The scene was filled with beautiful gowns, all in black and white, in keeping with the famous “Black Ascot” of 1910, when King Edward VII died shortly before the event, making it inappropriate to wear color. Thus, those who attended wore all black, aside from accents of white from pearls and flowers.
The gown was designed by Cecil Beaton and executed by Helene Pons based on his sketches. The cream crepe dress has black velvet stripes and an embroidered lace bib. The photo above most likely shows actress Melisande Congdon in the costume, as she performed in the play for three years.
When Truman Capote decided to throw his famous “Black and White Ball,” – he used the scene from My Fair Lady as its inspiration. Deborah Davis’ wonderful book The Party of the Century mentions that much of the gossip about town was about “who” everyone would wear. Amanda Carter Burden, daughter of Babe Paley, was able to sidestep this conversation and not commit to any one designer when she chose a gown from the film My Fair Lady. A drawing of Amanda in costume, sketched by Kenneth Paul Block, appeared on the front page of Women’s Wear Daily.
But was her gown from the film adaptation of My Fair Lady? Amanda was based in New York City, and it would have been far easier for her to obtain one of the costumes from the Broadway show.
In addition, no costume in the film accurately matches the one she wore to the ball. There is one that is similar and clearly based on the same design, but it appears to be a different piece.
In 2015, the dress from the Broadway production went up for sale, where it sold for $1280. It contains a lace dickey that the auction house noted has been added post-production. The dickey is clearly visible on Amanda Carter in the Black and White Ball photo. While I cannot confirm for certain that she is wearing the dress from the stage production rather than the film production, I am confident that she is.
Costume Credit: Katie S.
Follow: Website | Twitter | Facebook | Pinterest | Instagram
#my fair lady#truman capote#Melisande Congdon#cecil beaton#Amanda Carter Burden#black and white ball#costume drama#period drama
450 notes
·
View notes
Text
What's happening in Palestine is not "complicated", and it's not some insane "2000 year war about religion".
1917 : The Balfour Declaration was passed by the British, signing over the Palestinian land that was not their's to begin with to the Jewish people. Jewish people are not native to Palestine, and “israel” did not exist until 1948. The Balfour Declaration was the most controversial and contested documented in all of modern history.
1936 : A partition came into play, where the British once again promised the Palestinian land to be allocated to the Jewish people to become a "Jewish state". A 3 year revolt takes place to contest the partition which brought an end the the British army having anymore control over Palestine, and over 5000 Palestinians were killed. During this time the first armed zionist group was formed (Irgun) and they launched a series of unprecedented attacks against the Palestinian people.
1946 : Irgun bombed the King David Hotel which killed another 91 Palestinians, then in May of 1948 "israel" was formed which resulted in 750,000 Palestinians being displaced and 530 Palestinian villages being destroyed - this is referred to as the 1st Nakba (which means "disaster" in Arabic) - the 2nd Nakba started on October 7th. The remaining 22% of Palestine that had yet to be occupied was then divided into the Gaza Strip and The West Bank. That same year the UN passed a legislation that allowed Palestinian refugees to return home, but they were treated as second class citizens. "israel" controls the Palestinian education, prohibits their involvement in politics & elections, they control how much food and water they get, and their medical supplies.
1956-1966 : "israel" massacred the Palestinian villages Qalqilya, Kufr, Qassem, Khan Younis, and As-Samu.
1967 : "israel" occupied the remainder of historic Palestine in Gaza & The West Bank (and by occupy I mean they forcibly removed Palestinians from their homes, demolished their homes, or lived in the upper parts of their houses, forcing Palestinians to live in the lower halves, and then they built wire fences over top of these houses on the outside to block their view of the sky and so they could also throw garbage, boiling water, & human waste at the Palestinians walking the streets below. During that time another 300,000 Palestinians were displaced. The UN called for "israel" to leave Palestine, but they did not do that.
1976 : 1000's of hectares of Palestinian land were forcibly confiscated & protests were brutally shut down.
1987 : The first Intifada starts (which means the Palestinian revolution) where "isreal" established 45 more settlements on Palestinian land. A massive peaceful protest broke out by the Palestinians to show that the occupation & brutalization of their land and people was no longer acceptable. The IOF defence minister at the time, Yitzhak Rabin, ordered the IOF to break the bones of all Palestinians who were protesting. This is when the Hamas resistance group was founded (it was actually created initially by "israel" in hopes that it would divide the Palestinian people and shut down the Muslim Brother Hood - another resistance group). During that time 1000+ Palestinians were killed by the IOF.
1993 : the 2nd Intifada begins. The Oslo Accord is signed which was meant to being "peace" and a "2 state solution", but that just turned into more brutality by the IOF and another 5000+ Palestinians were killed. The IOF instigated Palestinian protestors with 1.3 million rounds of ammunition. Diana Buttu (a Palestinian-Canadian lawyer) made a statement saying the bill for a "2 state solution" was no more than a distraction for "israel" to carry out their plan in silence from the rest of the world which was always for the extermination, ethnic cleansing, and occupation of Palestine.
2014 : The Gaza War happened. This is when "israel" introduced the apartheid wall, which further isolated the Palestinians. They also launched a large scale attack on Gaza with ariel & naval fire power, 2500+ Palestinians were killed in just 50 days. In Gaza the IOF destroyed 83 schools, 10 healthcare centres, and 12,600 housing units.
2008-2023 : 8000+ more Palestinians were killed by the IOF, and now since october 7th 23,000+ Palestinians have been killed, and 1.6 million have been displaced.
This is one of the largest ongoing examples of colonial violence in the world today.
#palestine#colonialism#free palestine#from the river to the sea palestine will be free#from the river to the sea#save gaza#save gaza children#save palestine#palestine history#nakba#naksa#intifada#land back#history#i stand with palestine#boycott#fuck israel#fuck islamophobia#islamophobia#islam#muslim#bds#anti zionisim
399 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Monkey King and I
Guess who watched The King and I (1956) and I had to draw Sophie in modern dress and Wukong in his fancy armor!
919 notes
·
View notes
Text
I was wondering how accurate this was so I did some fun googling and yall.
So starting with the fact that police in the USA were formed when Dems had Congress and Senate and the same was true when the first organized police department was founded (in Boston, btw)....
1963. Dems had Senate and Congress.
While this allowed for huge strides in civil rights police brutality still continued to be largely unaddressed.
1966. Dems had Senate and Congress.
To point out further racial oppression James Meredith starts a 270 mile walk from Memphis, TN to Jackson, MI. He's shot by a sniper the second day which causes an influx in support from allies & prominent civil rights members (such as MLK) who fly out and walk in his stead.
Governor Johnson (d) of Mississippi, who ran on a segregationist platform but changed platforms when he saw that Black people were gaining more supporters, promises to protect marchers as they pass through his state. Police then tear gas them as they were setting up tents for the night in Canton, MI (pictured). 15k show up to Jackson. It's the biggest march in MI history and more successful than Meredith had planned.
No bills were introduced that year.
1956-1979 Dems had senate & Congress.
In 1961-69 they even had a governmental trifecta with Congress, Senate, and the presidency and again in 1977-79. The director of the FBI at the time was Republican J. Edgar Hoover. Head of Intelligence was Democrat William Sullivan. Attorney General & democrat Robert F. Kennedy authorized several programs for them such as wire-tapping MLK.
1968. Dems had Senate, Congress, and presidency.
President Lyndon Johnson (Democrat president while Dems had Congress & Senate) signs the Omnibus Crime Control and Safe Streets Act of 1968, birthing the Law Enforcement Assistance Administration & granting federal funds to local governments in order to obtain military resources to quell potential riots. A direct response to the protests and riots throughout the 50's & 60's. Protecting police from protesters.
Democrats do this instead of protecting the public from police and their prejudice.
1992. Dems have both Senate and Congress.
After the verdict of the 4 police who beat Rodney King on camera is announced & they are Not indicted the public starts rioting. The national guard, fire department, and several police departments are called in by then democratic mayor Tom Brady. After the riots a separate federal trial is held and finds 2 of the 4 officers guilty. All were fired from LAPD.
The Police Brutality Accountability Act of 1991 is introduced. Only introduced.
1994. House & Senate under dem control.
They pass the Violent Crime Control and Law Enforcement Act instead. It's drafted by democrat Joe Biden and sponsored by Texas Rep Brooks (D). It's an infamously harmful bill that results in the prejudiced mass incarceration of minorities, especially Black people. This bill funded police departments instead of holding them accountable aiding their further militarization as well.
2020. Dems have both Congress & Senate.
Which brings us to recent times. Where Democrats have again pretended to support and listen to the public demands to decrease/eliminate police brutality only to turn around and insist protests are the reason they keep funding the police instead of giving us rights.
"See? You're too dangerous to Not have a militarized police force."
As if we aren't protesting because the police are already too dangerous. Like that's not what started all this.
At this point a pattern like this can only be seen as intentional. A planned out excuse for funding police again and again and again instead of Stopping police brutality. Instead of enforcing or creating ACTUAL effective reform or regulations. They just keep throwing money at police departments and saying "hey here are billions of dollars that we want you to use to be less violent racists. It's also to help you be more safe when facing the people who are protesting your racist violence. Also we aren't gonna make sure you actually become less violent or less racist but we definitely hope you don't use this all this money to get worse."
Which has backfired across decades at this point. They keep doing investigations and making committees and for what?
We've done that. We know police are racist. We know they're violent. We know they're only spending enough to say they provide 6 months (if that) of sensitivity training and spending the bulk of that money on militarization gear. So what. We know that.
Now what.
What, after 100+ years could their excuse possibly be for STILL doing the same thing. For STILL not addressing it. For STILL not passing reform despite the MANY opportunities they've had? What could police departments Possibly be doing for them?? What excuse could be good enough?
I'm glad you asked.
There isn't one. There are answers of course. Greed, power, privilege, etc. The list goes on.
But are they good enough for you? They're not for me.
I have to beg on Tumblr just for my rent to get paid or for my kid to have dinner sometimes. The success of Democrats or my "country" doesn't mean shit to me, it does nothing for me. It only does things to me. Success enables police, it increases funding, it makes them More afraid of having their ideas of success taken from them, makes them more protective of their status quo. Their success hurts me. Fuck their success.
What matters is that time and time again Democrats have insisted they'd be there for minorities and then empowered the people oppressing, killing, and suppressing us and our rights.
What matters is that time and time again they've said they're powerless and their supporters insist they just don't have a majority to do anything with or that republicans keep blocking them or-
But passing bills to harm us? That's easy. And they don't Have to keep doing that. They just keep saying they do... To protect police. And they only keep "needing" more protection for police because they refuse to give us any. We continue to express our right to protest and they continue to try intimidating us out of it.
All the rights we have? They didn't give to us. Look at those posts. We fought for them while Democrats were in charge. They didn't give us those, they didn't stand with us. They still don't. They stand with the police as they always have.
August 2022.
For hundreds of years we've dealt with this. How much longer is it gonna be. How many more generations are going to have to put up with this government trying to insist that mediocrity is the best they can do indefinitely?
And if you still refuse to hold Democrats responsible, if you still find yourself compulsively trying to point out all the ways that Republicans are worse please know this: I know.
I know you're going to say "well Democrats are our best shot"
And to that I say if this is our best fucking shot....and they're *gestures vaguely at the post* like that.... Can we agree that it points to a much wider issue. If Democrats are our best shot and they're Only this effective and they're only making the most Minimal effort possible year after year. If we Know that their hands are tied by Republicans at best and at worst theyre fascists benefitting from the exploitation of BIPOC and other marginalized communities....
Can we admit that our systems are broken. That it goes further than Republicans or Democrats being bad. That it's Everything? That even if Democrats were actually perfect that everything would still be wrong and fucked up because the system itself holds them from making any effectual change?
That the checks and balances that the founding fathers put in place to make sure that our politicians are fair and just and give a shit about the people they serve aren't working.
Because if they were why would it take HUNDREDS of years for a community to get one thing. Just stop police brutality. That's all we asked. That's it. Stop hurting everyone who isn't a white cis man. Stop killing us in broad daylight for demanding you give us rights and respect the ones we Already have.
So why are we still starting 2023 with brutality making headlines?
If a government is effective and cares and listens and it's representives Truly represent it's constituents and fight for them and it's not just about profit or greed or winning elections or keeping minorities in line then why are we still here?
Why are we still asking for the same rights as our great-great-great-great grandparents?
If that progress? Is that success?
What the fuck are we doing. Like actually. How do we throw a wrench in this system. What will it take for Democrats and liberals and You to realize that all we are doing is driving the future into the hands of fascism.
What do we do? When do we finally do something?
°•°•°•°•°•°•°
If you like my posts consider leaving a tip
#idk what i thought i was gonna find but it wasn't a pattern of behavior stretching all the way back to the founding of police in the USA#democrats#liberals#progressives#protests#human rights#yeah this is about police brutality but also ableism and classism and poverty and everything else
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
OH my God, that’s how I know you! So You Want to Be a Wizard!
I’m following Neil Gaiman and so have only really seen your posts when he reblog them. I caught that you’re an author, but didn’t think I’d read any of your books. But when I saw the book title and cover in that latest post Neil reblogged, about the history of the YA genre? Well, I’ll just put it this way:
So You Want to Be a Wizard traumatized me.
I picked it up when I was maybe seven or eight years old, thinking it would be along the same lines as Wizardology — a fictional non-fiction guide to magic. I quickly figured out it was an actual story, so maybe it’s like How to Train Your Dragon?
Yeah, no, it was so much darker. I couldn’t stop reading, and I enjoyed it, but when I was finished, I filed it away in the same place as A Wrinkle in Time — scary af books that I’ll never read again and I’ve since forgotten all of the plot of (besides maybe one or two scenes that stuck out to me)
You know what? I think this is a sign that I should check those books out again. Peter and the Starcatchers has been on my mind lately, which was another of those books where the terror of reading them outweighed the enjoyment that pushed me through to the end. Thank you for writing So You Want to Be a Wizard, even if my younger self would’ve run from you in fear.
P.S. Coraline is on that same list. I read it in preparation for watching the movie, and decided I didn’t want to watch the movie.
Wow.
I'm really, really sorry the book traumatized you. That would never have been my intention. Especially since I know what that feels like, though mostly when I was young I had that reaction to film rather than books. The 1956 Godzilla: King of the Monsters gave me intermittent nightmares for a long time until my monster problem was unexpectedly cured a couple of years later by accidentally viewing The Crawling Eye and laughing myself sick at the SFX.
More to the point, though: I'm absolutely delighted that you're willing to give the book(s) another chance. Let me know how things turn out.
(And do give Coraline another shot, too, if you feel like it.)
153 notes
·
View notes
Text
anyway I am going to spoil everyone's fun. The Mummy is a racist movie, it's frustrating that it's popular and no one discusses that, and let me explain why
Whitewashing/brownface/self orientalism. The Carnahan's are meant to be mixed race. Their actors are white. Oded Fehr is white and a significant portion of his career has been playing exotic brown people in media made for white people, specifically while weaponizing the ethnic ambiguity he does have. Imhotep is white- insult to injury, his actor is an Afrikaner! Playing a pre-colonial African character! The only Egyptians played by people who arent white are the sex pest warden, Dr. Bey (also a minor character who dies), and Anck-su-namun. None of their actors are Egyptian.
The portrayal of Egyptian men. The warden and Jonathan are both portrayed as pathetic, weak, morally circumspect, and the warden is a pervert. Imhotep is also a pervert, frankly. The Egyptian public at large- mostly male crowds and male workers- are literally canon fodder and senselessly killed on multiple occasions. They're turned into mindless zombies, with no consideration given to what happens to them afterwards. Did hundreds of people just die? In public? The only two Egyptian men that aren't utterly horrible are Evie's boss, Dr. Bey, and Ardeth.
The portrayal of Egyptian women. The only two we actually hear speak is Evie and Anck-su-namun, both of whom have orientalist tropes applied to them- Evie, when they make her dress "local", and Anck-su-namun with the whole titlating "the pharaoh has me walk around naked and covered in wet body paint so no one can touch me without him knowing" nonsense- similar tropes are applied to Ardeth, frankly, with how his tattoos are portrayed, his ethnic background, etc. They specifically chose tattoos a Western audience would still find sexy (which aren't based on the actual local tattooing traditions). Face veils in early 20th century Egypt didn't really look like that, even the ones you might call flirty, and I find portrayals that make Ancient Egyptian society's overall often greater comfort with bared skin into titillation for the audience pretty offensive, especially as there are currently existing cultures in Africa viewed through lenses like that. It's not merely ahistorical, it's apart of a broader issue with how living people are viewed by others.
This is more of a me thing, other Egyptians may not agree: I think mummies as a horror trope are racist. The key fear to mummy movies is that white people might get punished for disturbing the graves of the honored dead. You are asked to identify with literal colonizers and view the local population as antagonistic (past and present in this case), especially in this movie, which is set before England started pretending it wasn't controlling Egypt (and by the damn way, ask ANY Egyptian when the country got independence and we'll say 1956. Between 22 and 56, England still had explicit control over some of the government, notably foreign relations and military, it used this an excuse to justify control of Sudan, and it was militarily occupying the country, especially the Suez area. When King Farouk tried to make a decision they didn't like, they put his palace under seige. That is not independence. Whoever made the 1922 declaration the first result on Google is manufacturing apologia for imperialism).
#cipher talk#There is a great deal of complexity with the Abdeen Palace incident and I don't think Farouk was in the right- I think the royal fam were#Fucking idiots frankly and I'm glad we're rid of them. But the fact that it happened???#the mummy 1999#ardeth bey#Like Britian didn't have moral reasons to oppose Farouk's politics. It was purely a matter of who they were allied to#Anyway. Duh the stupid mummy movie is racist but I have personal beef with the stupid mummy movie
374 notes
·
View notes
Text
Rodgers and Hammerstein's musical "The King and I" opened at the St. James Theatre on Broadway on March 29, 1951 and went on to win five Tony Awards. Gertrude Lawrence and Yul Brynner starred. Brynner performed the role of the King over 4,500 times on stage in addition to the 1956 film version.
54 notes
·
View notes
Text
If I didn't look at this photo in a different way! 'Property' written on the wood door, and Elvis standing in front of it, looking so tall and big… My head just saw a choker written 'property of…' around his neck. 🫠
Doris Day sang it before, "Imagination is funny..."
#sorry#i had to share this unholy thought#1956#elvis presley#elvis#elvis the king#elvis fans#elvis fandom#elvis history#50s elvis
15 notes
·
View notes
Note
I feel like you’re qualified to know this: Is Moomin actually queer or is it just something the fans started headcanoning
This reminds me of this instagram comment section I have saved on my phone
But answering seriously: Yes, Moomin is queer. The one doing the swedish voice for Misabel in the 2019 series brought this up
”It’s something you didn’t think of as a child, that the gender roles are very fluid in Moominvalley. There’s many queer themes. Misabel is an example of that. Also Misabel’s dog Ynk that’s a dog that only likes cats is a good example of this. It’s one of the big strenghts, which makes you as an adult have things to ponder about in the story. It’s fun that Moominvalley is a place where everyone can be just like they are. Man or woman, dog, cat, or something in between. You can like whoever you like. Moomintroll can like Snufkin more than he likes Snorkmaiden, and sometimes he likes Snorkmaiden more and that’s also wonderful.”
Tove Jansson was a queer woman. Two characters, who for some reason are named Thingummy and Bob in english, are named Tofslan and Vifslan in original text. They are nicknames of Tove and Viveca. Viveca Bandler was a woman Tove had a secret relationship with in 1946. Tofslan and Vifslan are two characters who speak in a secret language only they can understand, and they carry around a bag that they REFUSE to open, as inside is the most beautiful thing in the world (the king’s ruby) and they are terrified of anyone finding it. So, you can see the allegory of queerness, the closed bag as the ”closet” and when they eventually open it, the secret ”comes out”.
The character Too-Ticky is also based on Tuulikki Pietilä, who was Tove’s romantic partner, who were together from 1956 up until Tove’s death. In their letters to each other, Tove used to draw Too-Ticky at end of letters
The most emotional scene I think in all of the Moomin’s stories is when Moomin hides inside the magician’s hat and he gets turned into a hideous creature. No one recognizes him even when he cries that he IS Moomin. And then his mom comes, and he shouts ”Mama, it’s me! It’s me, Moomin!”
And she looked at him, and says ”Yes, you are my son.” And that’s what makes him turn back again.
This scene can be an allegory for when coming out and trying assure them that you’re STILL YOU, and everyone is starting to see you differently.
I think the anime was really good at capturing this scene (I mean the anime is superior in every way anyway)
youtube
(Flash forward to 1:55 for when the mom comes out)
62 notes
·
View notes
Text
Only Ones Who Know — an Elvis Presley x Reader series (chapter one)
Pairing: Austin Butler!Elvis Presley x Reader
Type: series (chapter 1 / ?)
Warnings: fluff, some angst, pining, long lost lovers, slow burn
Prompt: You and Elvis grew up together; he was your best friend and first love, but he and his family moved away. Eight years later, Elvis walks into the diner where you work...and he doesn’t recognize you. But there’s an intense connection between the two of you. Should you let things between you play out organically, or should you tell him who you really are?
Word Count (by chapter): 5K
Rating (by chapter): M (mature)
A/N: This is the first chapter of my new series, Only Ones Who Know! ♡ It’ll be a slow burn but I hope you’ll stick around for the payoff!
I wrote this fic visualizing Austin!Elvis, but you could also read it with real!Elvis as well if you prefer. The events of this series are kind of a combination of real life events from Elvis’ life and the events of the film; thus, it may not follow the outline of events exactly as they appear the film. Inspiration for the plot more closely but loosely resembles real life documentations of Elvis’ life in 1956 (sources are here).
I’m really excited for this one! So please for the love of all that is holy, comment/reblog/send asks if you want to see more of my writing—thank you in advance!
✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷
July 4th, 1956
On a sleepy, sweltering hot July afternoon on the east side of Memphis, the newly-crowned King of Rock and Roll sauntered in the doors of the diner where I was working.
I was refilling a customer’s mug of coffee when I saw him walk in, and I didn’t realize I had overfilled it until the man exclaimed and jumped up from the table.
“Sorry, sir,” I said, frazzled, and hurried to soak up the overflow of coffee from the table with a handful of napkins. My knees threatened to give out as I snuck another glance at the newcomer at the door. It was him. It was really him. Elvis Presley. The King of Rock and Roll. Arguably the most famous—and most controversial—musician in the world right then.
My childhood best friend. The boy I hadn’t seen in eight years. My first kiss.
Elvis surveyed the room full of open diner seats with curious eyes, finally settling on a booth by the windows. He slid into the seat, continuing to scan the restaurant, until he met my gaze, and the world stopped—for me, at least. For him, though…there was no change to his face, no spark of recognition in his blue eyes. Simply a raise of the chin: an acknowledgement for waitressing service.
And it was in that moment that I realized that Elvis Presley had no idea who I was.
I rushed to finish cleaning the customer’s table. I felt Elvis’ eyes boring into the back of my head, waiting for me to come over there to take his order, and I cursed inwardly when I realized no one else was working today who could take his order instead. It was only me.
I could hide in the kitchen, I thought. But the route to the kitchen was right in his line of sight. There was a table toward the back that I hadn’t wiped down yet, I realized, so I avoided the musician’s gaze and took my sweet time spraying and wiping down the table.
A whistle got my attention. Elvis Presley was flagging me down. “What’s a man gotta do for a hot meal at this restaurant?” he said, flashing his white teeth at me.
My heart leapt into my throat. There was simply no way around it. I would have to go over there.
I took a steadying breath and pretended to busy myself in my order pad as I made my way over to the singer. Would he remember me at last once I was closer?
“Sorry for the wait, sir,” I quavered once I reached his booth. It took everything in my might for me to pry my eyes from my order pad and meet his eyes again. But I finally did.
Elvis Presley, there, in the flesh. With his clean suit and styled black hair, he looked like a movie star and exuded a larger-than-life aura. My cheeks felt hot as he gazed up at me with his familiar icy eyes and smiled warmly.
But not a glimmer of recognition.
“Was starting to think you folks might be closed here on the Fourth of July,” he drawled, “‘til I saw that other man sitting over there, the one you spilled coffee all over.”
His voice—his genuine voice, not distorted through my car radio, or through the tiny speakers of my television set—was exactly as I remembered it, albeit much lower in pitch. He was a man, now, after all. God, was he a man.
He leaned forward toward me expectantly, and I realized I had just been staring at him for far too long. I scrambled for any kind of intelligent response.
“We may be slow today, but we’re open,” I said as casually as possible while I handed him a menu.
“And that man’s coffee?” Elvis asked, smirking.
“Oh, you know. It’s our Fourth of July special. Everyone gets, uh, a little extra coffee today.”
The singer laughed, and I chewed on my cheek, mentally praising myself for being able to come up with a joke like that while serving Elvis Presley. I was still reeling at the fact that he didn’t remember me. Beneath the overwhelming feeling of surprise that he’d serendipitously come into the diner where I worked, I felt a twinge of hurt.
Who am I kidding? Of course he doesn’t remember me.
But I remembered him, vividly. Not the Elvis Presley whose crooning voice was currently sweeping the world’s radio stations with his latest single ‘Heartbreak Hotel’. Not the Elvis Presley who had just premiered on the Steve Allen Show a few days prior, wearing a ridiculous tuxedo and singing to a basset hound.
I remembered the Elvis Presley who lived in Tulepo, Mississippi. The boy next door.
The Presley family lived in the run-down house next to my family’s, almost a decade ago. Their only son Elvis and I essentially grew up together; he was like the brother I never had. A flash of memories came back to me…memories of running around the neighborhood with Elvis—all skin and bones back then—holding hands while we explored, because that was just what you did when you were kids. Our worn shoes perpetually dusty from the dirt roads. Our lives immersed in the sounds of rhythm and blues. For twelve years, long before he’d found fame as a musician, Elvis Presley was my best friend.
And now, he didn’t remember me.
If my face had contorted with the sudden onslaught of the memories, he didn’t seem to pick up on it. “Well, hon, forgive me if I order something other than the coffee, then,” he jested. Good natured as ever.
“What’ll you have?” I asked.
“A Coke, for now,” he replied. He was…staring at me, now. An inquisitive smile spread across his face. “Do you…?”
“I beg your pardon?” you asked.
“...Do you know who I am?” Elvis asked.
I gaped. Was he asking if I knew him?
Oh, that arrogant braggart.
“Do I know you?” I repeated with mock naivety. My initial shock reaction was burning into acerbity. “Hmm. Can’t say that I do.”
“That’s too bad,” Elvis remarked. He suddenly seemed as though he was infinitely more interested in me than before.
“Well?” I said haltingly. “Don’t you know me?”
Elvis’ flashed that irresistible grin. “Well, of course I do,” he said with complete seriousness. My heart stopped beating until he said, “You’re my waitress. And a pretty one, at that.”
My blood boiled—either with aggravation or with flattery, I wasn’t sure. It was at that moment that I recognized the unmistakable tension between our bodies, fueled by the flirtatious sparkle in his eyes. I hadn’t felt this way in a long, long time. Not since the last time I’d seen Elvis Presley, eight years ago.
“I’ll be back with your drink, then,” I bit out, but before I could turn away, he speaks again.
“What’s your name, darlin’? I don’t see a nametag on you.”
I touched my uniform where I usually pinned my nametag—the nametag I just so happened to have forgotten on my bathroom counter this morning of all mornings. My name.
This would be it…the moment he realized who I was.
“My name?” I repeated.
He just looked at me expectantly.
I gazed back for too long, praying for him to realize. I wanted to tell him, so badly. But even more, I wanted him to remember. I didn’t know what to do. But before I could decide, a voice thundered from the kitchen.
“Order up! Missy, where you at?” Ray, the diner’s grumpy head cook, tapped the order bell three times and scowled at me through the kitchen window. “Cut the gas and get back to work,” he barked.
“So, ‘Missy’?” Elvis asked.
I blinked. “Missy” was Ray’s nickname for every waitress at the diner, and not exactly a term of endearment seeing as he only said it when he was impatient with us. But Elvis didn’t need to know that.
“You can call me ‘Missy’ if you want,” I responded at last, the coyness in my voice easily mistaken for coquetry. Sure enough, Elvis’ face lit up like a light.
“Missy,” he repeated. “I won’t keep you.”
“I’ll be right back,” I said and smiled tightly as I skirted off to the kitchen.
I still couldn't believe my eyes. Elvis was here, really here. I shouldn’t have been surprised, seeing as he spent his teenage years in this city, and his parents still lived here. I had just moved to Memphis this year when I enrolled for the local women’s college, but I had yet to run into the newly-famous Elvis or his family. Until now.
He was so…different. So sure of himself, no longer the humble, awkward, shy, scrawny boy I’d once known. Perhaps that Elvis no longer existed. It had been almost eight years, I realized, since the last time I’d seen him in the flesh. Eight years since the Presleys loaded up their belongings in their 1939 Plymouth and left for Memphis.
I remembered that day like it was yesterday, although I’d spent the past eight years trying with all of my might to forget it. Trying to wish I could take back what I’d said on that day.
I had to remind myself that I, too, had changed. I had grown up, too. I probably looked completely different from the girl he knew from our modest Tulepo upbringing.
“How many times will I have to tell you to stop flirting with the customers?” Ray, the cook, grumbled as I grabbed a plate of food from the counter.
“I’m not flirting with nobody, Ray,” I said lightly, checking the burger on the plate. “You forgot the mustard.”
Ray snatched the plate back to fix the order. “Who is that kid anyhow? He ain’t from around these parts, is he?” Ray huffed.
“Not anymore,” I grumbled under my breath. But Ray was looking harder through the kitchen window toward where Elvis was seated. His eyes narrowed.
“That can’t be that clown from the Milton Berle show, can it? Vernon and Gladys’ son?”
I said nothing, just took the plate from Ray and poured a glass of Coca-Cola from the fountain. Ray was huffing to himself as I exited the kitchen; I made out the words “those obscene hips” and “corrupting the youth.” Like most of the country, the citizens of Memphis were split between lauding the King of Rock and despising him; Ray, I understood then, was among those who thought the latter. It was as much of a shock to see “The New Elvis Presley” on Steve Allen wearing a tuxedo as it had been to see him thrusting his hips on Milton Berle a few months ago. Maybe his management was pushing for a new image in response to the public backlash.
After delivering the hamburger to the man on whom I’d spilled coffee earlier, I returned to Elvis’ table with a pounding heart and gave him his drink.
“So, Missy,” Elvis drawled and took a drink. “You from around here?”
Hearing the strange nickname from his lips, directed at me, was like the nail on the coffin. I felt all at once hopeless and…well, curious. If he didn’t remember me, and yet he was flirting with me, how would this play out?
“I live here, in Memphis,” I told him.
“Truly?” Elvis toyed with the straw of his Coke between his teeth. “Never seen you around. I would have remembered a face like yours. You always lived here?”
This was becoming just unbearable.
“No, I moved here for the women’s college, about a year ago.”
“Ah. A college girl,” he remarked. “Must be as smart as you are pretty.”
“What about you?” I asked, playing dumb. “Where are you from?”
“Where am I from, or where’d I come from?”
“Well, you seem like you wanna talk about both, so I guess both.”
Elvis tilted his head to the side and continued looking directly into my eyes. “Where I’m from, you’ve probably never heard of it,” he said. You’d be surprised, I thought sullenly. “But where I’ve just come from, you’ve definitely heard of it.” He leaned closer to me, gazing at me through his thick lashes, a playful glint in his eyes. “The Big Apple”.
“New York City?” I gasped. “How do you get here?”
“By train. Twenty-seven hours. Just got off.”
“Well, you must be starving then.”
“Famished.”
I realized, despite how miffed I was about the whole situation, that I couldn’t resist from mirroring his smile and the way he leaned toward me while we talked.
“What’ll you have?” I asked. Elvis ordered the special of the day—country fried steak with cream gravy.
“So, New York City, then? Must be some kind of big hot shot then, huh?” I mused while I took down his order. I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging I knew who he was.
“Oh I wouldn’t say that,” Elvis replied. “Just a boy come home to visit his mama.”
I thought about his mama. Back in Mississippi, Mrs. Presley used to always thump my head with a rolled-up newspaper for tracking my muddy feet through her kitchen. But she had a warmth about her, and she always cooked the best meals. I wondered if she would remember me, if she saw me now, or if—like her son—she wouldn’t recognize me at all anymore. When I first moved to Memphis, I used to think about going to visit her, but I never did. Never felt like it was my place to do so. The Presleys were the talk of the town now that their son was riding into stardom, and I was certain the last thing Mrs. Presley needed was another girl knocking on her door asking about her son.
“Actually, there’s another reason I’m here,” Elvis went on.
“Oh?” I said. “Got a girl back at home for you, then?” I watched him carefully, curious to see his reaction. It did not disappoint; Elvis’ back stiffened ever so slightly.
“Naw,” he responded. “Well, not anymore.” He flashed his teeth at me again. “That’s not the reason, anyway.”
“Pray tell, then.”
“Do you like rock n’ roll, Missy?”
I did. Like Elvis, I grew up immersed in rock n’ roll’s roots. Like him, the soul of the South’s music had been etched into my bones as I grew up.
When I nodded, Elvis reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a canary-colored ticket. He slid it across the table, and I picked it up to examine it. His name was printed elegantly across the top of the ticket—“Elvis Presley”.
“There’s a concert going on at Russwood Park this evening,” Elvis said.
“You came twenty-seven hours on a train from New York just for a concert?”
“And to visit my mama, of course.” He smiled again. “It’s a benefit concert. Last I’d heard, there’s gonna be ten thousand people in the stadium. And thousands are already waiting in line.”
“Wow,” I said, and bit back a smirk as I traced his name in bold letters. “Must be some big name headliner, then, this ‘Elvis’ guy.”
I couldn’t tell if he knew or not that I was joshing him. “Some people seem to think so,” he said. But his eyes grew hardened. “Other people seem to think he’d be better off in jail.”
“Jail?”
“Jail.” Elvis sighed deeply. “He’s expected to put on a ‘family-friendly’ show tonight,” he said, “but he’s torn. I would imagine,” he added, still putting up a front.
“Torn between what?”
“Between doing what he’s told, and doing what his heart says.”
“Well…” I made a bold move; I slid into the seat across from him and rested my chin on my hand. “You know what I say?“
He looked enraptured. “What say you, Missy?”
“When it comes to matters like this, this guy Elvis…I say, he’s gotta listen to his heart.”
Elvis’ smile grew like a flower blooming across his face. “That’s good advice,” he said. “Maybe you should tell him that some day.”
“Maybe you’ll tell him yourself, since you said you’d be there tonight,” I replied and batted my eyelashes, the pinnacle of naivety.
“Maybe I will,” he affirmed with a laugh.
“Well, you better take your ticket back, then, sir,” I said, handing him back the ticket. “Wouldn’t wanna lose this.”
But Elvis didn’t reach for it. “That’s for you,” he said. “If you want it.”
“For me?”
“You said you like rock n’ roll, didn’t you?”
“I do.”
“Then you’ll like it,” he promises.
“What about you?” I asked.
“Oh, you’ll find me there.”
“I don’t get off work until 8,” I realized.
“That’s alright.” He smirked. “The last band probably won’t start until 8:30. That’s the one you’ll wanna see.”
I didn’t know what to say. “What if I can’t get in?” I asked at last. “You said there were already thousands of people in line.”
Elvis cocked an eyebrow and reached for the ticket in my hands. His hand brushed conspicuously against mine as he flipped it over. There was an official looking stamp on the other side that read, “V.I.P. Backstage”.
“You’ll just show this to the usher,” Elvis said, his voice husky, his hand still touching mine. “And they’ll show you where to go. And if you run into any trouble, you just ask for a Colonel Tom Parker. Got it, darlin’?”
I was, for lack of a better word, dazzled. “Okay,” I quavered.
Elvis seemed enraptured by my sudden befuddlement. He took my hand and folded my fingers around the ticket. And he smiled—that same smile I knew from before, that smile I could never forget.
✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷
Attending an outdoor concert with ten thousand other people in the heat of the Tennessee summer was not exactly my idea of a good time.
But there I was, walking up to the entrance of Russwood Park, clutching the V.I.P. ticket Elvis Presley had gifted me as if it contained my very soul. I could still scarcely believe I had run into him at the diner, and I still had yet to process everything that had happened. It felt as though I were existing in a dream, or some other state of unreality. I had taken the bus from the east side to downtown Memphis, in a daze the whole time.
When I finally reached the gates, the stadium ushers gawked at my ticket. After much debate amongst each other and after calling a manager, they were able to authenticate the stamp on the back of my ticket. As I was led through the crowd, surpassing the long line of disappointed-looking girls who would be inevitably sitting in the very back of the stadium at this point, I couldn’t help but smile to myself.
The other performers had already finished their sets. The only group left to perform was Elvis Presley’s.
Once we descended the stadium stairs and reached the floor level, the stadium usher traded me off with my own personal security guard. I raced to keep up with his huge strides. We shuffled through the crowd, which only grew denser as we neared the stage. There was a buzzing tension reverberating through the audience; it was almost time for the concert to start. Each concertgoer on the floor level had their own seat, but I knew from the rumors about Elvis Presley’s other shows that these seats would become all but obsolete the second he emerged on the stage.
All eyes seemed to be on me with envy as soon as the guard and I reached the stage, which was massive and must have taken hours if not days to construct in the center of the baseball field. He led me around to the side of it, where a small set of stairs led up to the grassy area behind the towering stage set. The security guard instructed me where to stand and left me there to my own devices.
It was a zoo. Stagehands and roadies, sweat dripping down their faces, scuttled about the backstage area, making last-minute adjustments to all kinds of cords and props. I spotted a group of musicians tuning their instruments, wearing suits and bowties—his backing band.
And then I saw him.
He stood with his back to me at the very back edge of the stage. He had changed into all-black attire that suited the color of his greased hair. that fit his body perfectly. His hands, I noticed, were clasped in front of him. He wasn’t moving, save for a nervous bounce of his left leg. I knew exactly why he was nervous tonight.
I moved a bit closer, circling so I could see his profile better. And I saw that his eyes were closed and his lips were moving ever so slightly.
He was praying.
Just as soon as I had caught him in the midst of this reverent moment, he had finished. He tilted his head back and gazed up at the orange evening sky.
Everything happened fast after that. He sauntered to his bandmates and clapped their backs with a nervous smile. I slinked back into the shadows, suddenly anxious about him spotting me. And then the stagehands were leading the boys to the side of the stage, where the stage lights had been dimmed down and thousands of people were already cheering. I trailed behind the line of musicians, shocked beyond belief when I saw the vantage point I would have for this concert. The sea of people looked unreal from up on the stage.
A blinding spotlight shone down on Elvis as he emerged from the stage. The sound that erupted from the audience was deafening.
He hadn’t even played yet, and already it was pandemonium among the crowd. I watched helplessly—and with gratitude for my V.I.P. access—as dozens and then hundreds of fans broke from their seats. In a tidal wave, they swept to the stage, screaming and crying. Security manning the barricades struggled to keep the girls from climbing over.
Elvis reached the microphone. He looked incredible—and I noticed for the first time, under the stage lights, that he was wearing splashes of red with his black suit. A red tie and red socks. Elvis’ voice boomed through the microphone as he greeted the crowd and asked them politely to return to their seats. I wouldn’t have been able to tell he was nervous if not for the tell of his bouncing leg.
But that leg did not stop bouncing. It only intensified.
“You know those people in New York aren’t going to change me none,” Elvis crooned to the screaming crowd. He regarded them heartily, his blue eyes sweeping through each and every person. And then his voice became powerful, wrought with passion. “I'm going to show you what the real Elvis is like tonight.”
He lifted a single finger and wiggled it. The crowd went beserk.
He launched into ‘Heartbreak Hotel.’ The bounce of his leg spread through his body as though he were possessed, but that was what everyone was here to see. I saw girls crying, raking their hands down their faces, trying to fling their bodies over the stage barricades. And he was a fireball of energy. I’d never seen anything like him, and I couldn’t believe this was the same Elvis I’d played street games with as kids.
The concert was a whirlwind. Song after song, Elvis’ hips swiveled dangerously with the rhythm. It was directly in contrast to the squareness of his television debut of “The New Elvis” that had premiered only a few days earlier on the Steve Allen show. No more white tail, no more singing to basset hounds. This was something different entirely, and he knew it. He wielded a strange power over his audience, like a magician casting a trance.
I wanted to see more. The stage view was phenomenal in its own rite, but I couldn’t see his face. I wanted to—needed to—see his face. And part of me longed for him to see mine.
My eyes caught a small space in the crowd right next to the stairs I’d come up to come backstage. The rush of the crowd in the initial excitement left a hole in the sea of people that hadn’t yet been filled again. I decided to go for it. I stepped down the sidestage stairs and was immediately enveloped by the crowd. No one seemed to notice; all eyes were locked on the King.
As Elvis belted out hit after hit— 'I Want You, I Need You, I Love You', 'Blue Suede Shoes', 'Long Tall Sally'—I worked myself closer and closer to the front of the stage I felt, yet again, as though I were in a dream. A part of me knew how absolutely foolish—and dangerous—it was to leave the comfort of my backstage access. A bigger part of me didn’t care. The energy of the crowd seemed to permeate Elvis’ very bones. He was a firestorm, and I was enraptured by him. I was a fish on a line, tethered to him, and he reeled me in closer and closer.
By the time they’d reached their last song, ‘Hound Dog’, I was right in front of the stage.
Elvis towered over me as he sang. I could see the sweat glisten off his handsome face, dripping off his unruly greased hair. People slammed into me from behind, but I couldn’t care less. I felt drunk with the sight of him, a god amongst men. A god who used to be my friend.
Elvis fell to his knees on the stage. Hands reached out to touch him. He leaned into the crowd—suddenly grasping the face of a girl standing a few people away from me. Her mouth was open in astonishment as he leaned in and smiled, just almost brushing his lips against hers but not quite. And then it was the next girl. And the next.
And then it was me.
Still singing in that sultry voice, Elvis’ gripped my chin with his hand like he’d done the others and his eyes locked on mine. And he froze, recognizing me all at once. It was only for half a second, but he’d stopped singing. His expression completely changed. He blinked, hesitating.
I just smiled up at him.
He tightened his grip on my face and kissed me.
His mouth tasted like sweat and an unmistakable sweetness. My knees threatened to give out; he could have held me up with just his hand on my chin. This was not just a light brush of his lips on mine, like it was for the other girls. This was a kiss, several seconds long, in front of the whole world. I melted into him. And as he pulled away, his prolonged gaze indicated clearly to me that if he had his way, he’d want to do much, much more than that.
It was our second kiss.
✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷
I don’t know how, but I somehow made it backstage again as soon as the concert was over. I was still reeling from the kiss when I spotted him. He was being escorted by men in security uniforms through the bustle of stagehands. “You were warned, boy,” one of them growled at Elvis, but he was grinning like a naughty child.
“I didn’t do nothin’ wrong,” he said.
“Get in the car, Mr. Presley.”
But then Elvis spotted me. “Hold on just one second, boys,” Elvis said. He broke away and ran up to me. My heart hammered.
“Hey, Missy,” he said, calling me that stupid nickname again. “You made it.” He was absolutely drenched in sweat like he’d jumped in the Mississippi River. He was a mess, but he never looked better.
“Looks like that Elvis Presley really followed his heart tonight,” I grinned.
He smiled so big. “He got some advice from a real smart girl.”
We didn’t speak for a few moments, just gazing at each other and smiling, soaking each other in. I thought about our kiss in the crowd, thought about how much trouble he was about to be in for that performance. Thought about how his features still resembled the Elvis I used to know.
“Why were you in the crowd instead of up here?” he asked.
“I wanted to see your face while you sang,” I admitted in a rush.
He laughed, perplexed, still panting with the exertion of his performance. “I'm so glad you made it.” I thought he would be absolutely exhausted immediately after the show, but his eyes were slight with an infectious fire. He couldn’t take them off of me, and I couldn’t rip mine away. The connection between us was so intense it almost hurt.
“Elvis,” I said.
“Now you know who I am.”
“I always knew who you were.”
“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he said, transfixed.
His words shook me to my core. These were words I could have only dreamed about him saying to me eight years ago. And now that he was saying them, here, after what he’d accomplished…
I wanted to tell him who I was. I wanted to, so badly. But the way he was looking at me now…he was looking at Missy, not Y/N. And I was scared of losing that.
Whatever old emotions about the past he’d inflicted upon me, I stifled away. It didn’t matter that he didn’t remember me. It didn’t matter who I was, or who he was, or who we used to be.
The only thing that mattered was right now.
“If that’s what you think,” I whispered, smirking shyly. “Kiss me again.”
Elvis didn’t waste a single second. He grabbed my face again, gently this time, cupping my cheeks in his hands like I was a fragile work of art, and he kissed me. I didn’t care that, to him, this was just a kiss for some random fan who he’d just met that day. Or that, if it wasn’t me, he’d have no problem finding someone else to kiss instead.
Because to me, it was everything.
Compared to his gentle hands, his mouth was rough, desperate. He pried my lips open with his, and I let him, just as eager. A voice came from behind him, one of the security guards: “Mr. Presley, it’s time to go.” He pulled away, eyes wide, and kissed me once more before breaking apart. “I have to go.”
“Alright,” I trembled.
“Beale Street,” he said as he backed away. “Meet me at Beale Street, tonight.”
“Where on Beale Street?”
Behind me, fireworks went off in the sky. His eyes were alighted with orange and red. “Club Handy,” was the last thing he said to me before the security guards dragged him off the stage into a cruiser and drove him away through the crowds.
✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷
A/N: This is the end of Chapter 1 but I’ll be writing more!!! Any predictions?!? I apologize for any typos!! I’m really drunk as I type this so if thre are typos just lmk and I’ll fix it tomorrow! Also here’s my schpiel I copy and paste on the end of every fic haha please read it:
I’m dying to hear your thoughts about it! Please note that I write fanfiction for free; my only request for repayment is a genuine expression of your thoughts, opinions, likes/dislikes, and predictions about the story. Whether it’s simply a “Wow, I loved it!”, a keyboard smash, a series of convoluted thoughts in the tags, or even a full-out review, please know that any and all feedback is welcome!
Please send me asks because they make me smile so hard omg!
Much love ❤︎ from Juniper
Also I do have a taglist but I’m too drunk to tag anyone tonight so i’ll do it tomorrow but ya lmk via my ask box if you want me to ad d you to it@ !!
#Austin butler!elvis#elvis 2022#Elvis x reader#Elvis Presley x Reader#austin butler#Elvis Presley fanfiction#elvis presley imagine#austin butler imagine
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Free Elvis Film Resource Masterlist (WIP)
I'm watching the films in chronological order. I'll update this as I go.
Love Me Tender (1956): YouTube
Loving You (1957): YouTube
Jailhouse Rock (1957): Dailymotion
King Creole (1958): Dailymotion
GI Blues (1960): LookMovie
Flaming Star (1960): LookMovie
Wild in the Country (1961): Dailymotion
Blue Hawaii (1961): Dailymotion
Follow That Dream (1962): LookMovie
Kid Galahad (1962): LookMovie
Girls! Girls! Girls! (1962): LookMovie
It Happened at the World's Fair (1963): LookMovie
Fun in Acapulco (1963): Dailymotion
Kissin' Cousins (1964): LookMovie
Viva Las Vegas (1964): Dailymotion
Roustabout (1964): Dailymotion
Girl Happy (1965): Soap2Day
Tickle Me (1965): Dailymotion
Harum Scarum (1965): Soap2Day
Frankie and Johnny (1966): Dailymotion
Paradise, Hawaiian Style (1966): Dailymotion
Spinout (1966): LookMovie
Easy Come, Easy Go (1967): Soap2Day
Double Trouble (1967): LookMovie
Clambake (1967): Dailymotion
Stay Away, Joe (1968)
Professionally-Recorded Performances
Dorsey Brothers Stage Show (1956)
- Jan 28: Shake Rattle & Roll and Flip, Flop & Fly fragment [YouTube] (missing: I Got A Woman)
- Feb 4: Tutti Frutti fragment [YouTube] (missing: Baby Lets Play House)
- Feb 11: Blue Suede Shoes fragment [YouTube], Heartbreak Hotel fragment [YouTube]
- Feb 18: (missing: Tutti Frutti, I Was The One)
- Mar 17: Heartbreak Hotel fragment [YouTube] (missing: Blue Suede Shoes)
- Mar 24: Money Honey fragment [YouTube] (missing: Heartbreak Hotel)
Milton Berle Show (1956)
- Apr 3: full episode [YouTube] (Elvis' portion starts at 17:15 and ends at 25:26)
- Jun 5: I Want You I Need You I Love You fragment [YouTube], Hound Dog fragment [YouTube]
Steve Allen Show (1956): full episode [YouTube] (Elvis' portion starts at 42:24 and ends when the video does)
Ed Sullivan Show (1956-7)
- Sept 9: full Elvis portion [YouTube]
- Oct 28: Love Me Tender segment [YouTube], Love Me segment [YouTube], Hound Dog segment [YouTube] (missing: Don't Be Cruel)
- Jan 6: full Elvis portion [YouTube]
Tupelo's Own (1956): YouTube
Frank Sinatra Timex Show - Welcome Home Elvis (1960): Dailymotion
Comeback Special (1968): broadcast version [Internet Archive]
That's The Way It Is (1970): Soap2Day
Elvis On Tour (1972)
Aloha from Hawaii (1974): YouTube
Elvis in Concert (1977)
Interviews
Teenage Dance Party (1956): YouTube
Hy Gardner Calling (1956): YouTube
Press Conference at Graceland (1960): ElvisToday
New York Press Conference (1972): YouTube
Aloha from Hawaii Announcement and Press Conference (1972): YouTube
For comprehensive lists of interviews including available audio and transcripts: 50s, 60s, 70s [KeithFlynn]
#elvis presley#elvis film#elvis movie#masterlist#information regarding the whereabouts of the Dorsey Bros full episodes would be much appreciated#please reach out to me if the links break
779 notes
·
View notes
Text
Promo photo for Jazz at the Philharmonic Concert in Paris 1957, NARA ID 20012478.
#OTD 1934: Ella Fitzgerald Debuts at Amateur Night at the Apollo!
First Lady of Song AND Civil Rights activist
By Miriam Kleiman, Public Affairs
On the evening of November 21, 1934, 17 year-old Ella Fitzgerald took the stage on Amateur Night at Harlem’s Apollo Theater and launched her longtime career as the “First Lady of Song.” She sang for presidents, was the first Black woman to win a Grammy (she won 13 Grammy awards) and sold over 40 million albums.
She was also a Civil Rights activist who used her talent to break racial barriers. In recognition of her work she was awarded the NAACP Equal Justice Award and the American Black Achievement Award. The National Archives holds records documenting the discrimination she faced -- and fought.
Ella Fitzgerald et al v. Pan Am: Racism or “honest mistake”?
On tour in 1954 en route to a concert in Australia she was denied the right to board a Pan American flight. She had to spend three days in Hawaii before other transportation to Australia could be secured, and she missed her concert dates.
She sued Pan Am, claiming racism and seeking financial compensation. Pan Am claimed it was “an honest mistake” due to a reservation mix-up. The district judge dismissed the complaint, but the plaintiffs appealed. The U.S. Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit reversed that decision, ruling in favor of the plaintiffs.
New York Times, 12/31/1954.
Complaint, Ella Fitzgerald, John Lewis, Georgiana Henry, and Norman Granz v. Pan American, Inc., 12/23/1954 Records of U.S. District Courts NARA ID 2641486.
Ella Fitzgerald Performs at Birthday Salute to JFK at Madison Square Garden 5/19/1962, JFK Library ID ST-212-15-62.
President Gerald R. Ford and First Lady Betty Ford with Ella Fitzgerald at White House Bicentennial concert 6/20/1976, Ford Library, NARA ID 7840021.
Ella Fitzgerald Performs at the White House State Dinner for King Juan Carlos I of Spain, 10/13/1981, Reagan Library, NARA ID 75855955.
More online:
See the complaint in the Documented Rights online exhibit under “Challenging Discrimination.”
DocsTeach: Complaint in the Case of Fitzgerald v. Pan American Airways, 12/23/1954
DocsTeach: Judgment in the Case of Fitzgerald v. Pan American World Airways, 1/26/1956.
Hear Fitzgerald discuss this incident, the lawsuit, and her legal victory: Ella Fitzgerald kicked off a plane because of her race: CBC Archives.
#OTD#blm#black lives matter#jazz#jazz history#women's history#equity#civil rights#justice#ford library#reagan library#social justice#black excellence#racial justice#ella fitzgerald#first lady of song#black history
491 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
edwardlong
Untitled
pasteldokidoki
PastelDokiDoki
pemizart
pem
drawingtheunknown
Drawing The Unknown
jseltzerassociates
The Benefits Blog