Elvis at 80

In marking Elvis Presley’s 80^th birthday today my thoughts drifted back to the initial spark that he ignited in a small Memphis recording studio sixty years ago, which jump-started his career and also kindled the rock ‘n’ roll revolution.  In the first week of July, 1954, Elvis, Scotty Moore, and Bill Black assembled for the first time in Sam Phillips’ small Sun Records studio.  Their goal was to cut at least a couple of decent tracks for the combo’s first single.  It was a truly magical moment, the likes of which may never be seen again.  I tried to capture it in words seventeen years ago and I offer an excerpt from that effort today as my birthday card and thank-you note to the King.

“From the date of his first recording session at Sam Phillips' Sun studio, Elvis rapidly evolved from a somewhat unsure balladeer to a music dynamo who changed popular music more than any individual performer ever had, or ever would again.  It is fortunate that many of his earliest recordings have survived, for through them his meteoric rise can be witnessed again and again.  But for that to happen, listeners must mentally place themselves in the mainstream pop music world that existed in 1954 America.  Only then can the revolutionary nature of what happened at Sun Records be appreciated.  Seemingly mild by today's rock standards, most of these recordings still sound fresh and exciting, although some listeners may consider them mere curiosities from a seemingly quaint period, before anyone had even imagined heavy metal, synthesizers, samples, or outdoor stadium rock shows.  Placed in the context of their time, however, they are anything but quaint or unexciting. 

“It is interesting that, up until he spontaneously burst into ‘That's All Right', Elvis had seemed determined to confine his public and recorded efforts strictly to ballads, and may well have regarded himself as primarily a crooner.  His most prominent idol was Dean Martin, who sang in a relaxed, carefree style that Elvis admired and emulated.  He adopted Martin's sliding vocal swoops, and his demo of ‘My Happiness’ might even be viewed as an early, poor imitation of Martin.

"‘That's All Right’ was spontaneous, not planned, beginning during a break from recording.  Elvis knew Arthur ‘Big Boy’ Crudup's original recording well, and in fact changed it very little, retaining the same tempo, even including the ‘Dee, dee, dee-dee’ chorus, but altering a few lyrics and investing it with a touch of country flavor.  But once Sam Phillips heard it and encouraged the group to keep moving in that direction, Elvis and the others rapidly shed whatever inhibitions they may have had.  There is even a noticeable increase in the free-spirited nature of Elvis' performance when the final version of the song is compared to a surviving earlier take. 

“Again, it may be hard to believe or understand the risk associated with doing such music at that time, but it was very clear to Elvis, Scotty, Bill, and Sam.  Moore later recollected that his initial reaction upon hearing the recording was, ‘Well, that's fine, but good God, they'll run us out of town!’  Elvis may have entered the studio convinced that he wasn't supposed to sing that way, with genuine inner feelings rather than the contrived style that went into contemporary popular ballads, and which went down well with mid-1950s middle America.  Left to his own instincts, however, it burst from him spontaneously, which was the sort of thing that Sam Phillips had been hoping for, and which he quickly encouraged.

“‘Blue Moon of Kentucky’ was even more revisionist and revolutionary.  An early take shows a startling leap in development from Bill Monroe's original bluegrass waltz to a faster, livelier country shuffle, sufficiently new to prompt a gratified Sam Phillips to exclaim, ‘Hell, that's fine.  That's different.  That's a pop song now, nearly about.’  How much more revealing to then hear the final version, which takes the song far beyond that level into an up-tempo arrangement that neither Bill Monroe, nor anyone else, could have foreseen.  Punctuated by the percussive effect of Bill Black's slap bass, and paced by Elvis' urgent vocal, matched by Scotty Moore's guitar, this was truly something new, and its freshness is still there today.

“In these relatively few hours at Sun Records, something monumental and irreversible had happened to popular music, and forever altered it.  Within a few years, the artists and styles that dominated the pop charts would be replaced almost entirely and forever by rock and roll music.  The sounds that emanated from Sam Phillips' tiny studio would resonate across the Atlantic too, where they transfixed four Liverpool youngsters, who would rescue and reinvent the music in their own image a decade later. 

“Whether or not this really was the rock and roll genesis, Elvis would soon come to personify rock and roll on a national and international level, having made it acceptable to a broad audience, despite considerable public outcry against him.  Elvis combined his broad musical influences into a new style and gave it his own unique vocal brand.  His was a mature, masculine, suggestive, often threatening voice, not the thin tenor of other, safer "teen idols" of the 1950s, such as Eddie Fisher.   Before Elvis, there may not have been ‘nothing,’ as John Lennon once suggested, but there was certainly nothing like this.”

Excerpted from “Elvis and the Rock & Roll Genesis” by Allen J. Wiener; Discoveries (July 1997).

Channeling Elvis: How Television Saved the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll by Allen J. Wiener is available in paperback and Kindle e-book editions from:

Amazon.com in the U.S. at this link:  http://tinyurl.com/mhyaouz; 
In U.K. (paperback): http://tinyurl.com/kyolbnm; (Kindle): http://tinyurl.com/qdbk9cb

Elvis Presley's Lost Film Career

                                                     With Dolores Hart in King Creole

Elvis Presley’s film career has long been on the receiving end of many jokes and much derision.  Just how bad were those films?  In an interview recorded in 1972, Elvis said that not all of them were bad, though he did think that most of them probably were. 

While struggling to develop a recording career in the early 1950s, Elvis harbored a longer-term ambition to star on the silver screen.  The underpinnings of his ceaseless loyalty to his manager, Colonel Tom Parker, may be difficult to understand, but they include the Colonel delivering on his promise to take Elvis to Hollywood. 

Elvis’ film career began with promise and his acting skills and comfort before the cameras grew in the early years.  While Love Me Tender marked a tentative beginning in 1956, and Elvis was far from a polished actor in the film, he showed genuine potential and clear intent to be taken seriously as an actor.  His 1950s follow-up efforts showed improvement and offered him decent scripts, challenging roles, and solid supporting players.  Although Elvis didn’t want to do musicals, it seemed inevitable that he would sing on screen.  He was unhappy with the songs in Love Me Tender, considered them “silly,” and the musical numbers still look jarringly out of place in a film set in the Civil War.  But things improved in his next three films: Loving You, Jailhouse Rock, and King Creole, which included some classic numbers written by the legendary Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller, as well as iconic musical moments, such as Elvis singing “(Let Me Be) Your Teddy Bear” in Loving You and the “Jailhouse Rock” production number.  The films also included the occasional rock classic, like “Mean Woman Blues,” also from Loving You.

Those early films were strengthened by strong supporting players, including Richard Egan, Debra Paget, Mildred Dunnock (who had starred in Death of a Salesman), Lizabeth Scott, Wendell Corey, Carolyn Jones, Walter Matthau, Vic Morrow, Paul Stewart, Dean Jagger and at least one legendary film director, Michael Curtiz, who helmed King Creole.  Curtiz's CV included Casablanca, Mildred Pierce, White Christmas, and Yankee Doodle Dandy, and five Oscar nominations for Best Director, including a win for Casablanca.

                                                     On the set of Jailhouse Rock

Elvis was poised to resume his film career when he returned from army service in 1960 and shot Flaming Star, which co-starred Barbara Eden, Dolores del Rio, Steve Forrest, and John McIntire.  The western featured only one musical number, “A Cane and a High Starched Collar,” and the title song, thus allowing Elvis to focus on his acting, which still showed promise.  Wild in the Country also focused more on story and acting than on musical numbers and co-starred Hope Lange, Tuesday Weld, and Millie Perkins.  The film featured more than one forgettable, contrived musical number that seemed out of place and disrupted the action, which was already hampered by a less-than-credible story.  Elvis’ acting also was panned by some critics who felt he had reached beyond his thespian capabilities, but the film did offer him a more challenging role than he was to receive again.

Flaming Star

For better or worse, these more serious celluloid efforts were weak box office performers compared to the far lighter musical comedies that became Elvis’ Hollywood staple and cash cow.  Both G.I. Blues and Blue Hawaii were smash hits, earning vastly greater revenues that the non-musicals and they became the mold for Presley films thereafter, which were increasingly cheap to make, unimaginative, weaker musically, and featured Elvis in nearly interchangeable lightweight roles. Still, some of the later movies were not bad at all, including Roustabout, which featured co-stars Barbara Stanwick and Leif Ericson.  The issue was not so much how bad most of the scripts and songs ultimately became, but how rapidly any trace of serious roles that might challenge Elvis vanished.

The decline in Elvis' films corresponded with the stagnation of his recording career.  Colonel Parker saw maximum profits in confining Elvis to the ever-weaker songs written for his movies, rather than investing in quality studio recording sessions unrelated to the films.  Upon his return from the army Elvis cut Elvis Is Back, a quality studio album that found him in fine voice.  However, that voice was increasingly squandered on mostly lame movie songs.  Elvis would not engage in another serious studio effort for nearly a decade.

Although Elvis was clearly unhappy with the direction of his Hollywood career, the Colonel easily persuaded him that this was the way to make money, which was all that really mattered to Parker.  As usual, Elvis went along and only expressed his frustration to those closest to him.  In that 1972 interview, Elvis admitted to routinely signing four-year movie contracts with no provision for script approval.  Thus, the studios might have cast Elvis as a singing monkey and, technically, he would have been obliged to do it.  Although film studios were unlikely to enjoy seeing one of their top money-makers look foolish, it is mind-boggling that a star of Elvis' magnitude would sign such ludicrous contracts and, worse, his manager's inability to see any problem with them. 

The Rev. Mother Dolores Hart, who appeared as Dolores Hart in two of Elvis’ earliest films, Loving You and King Creole, was aware of what was happening to Elvis in Hollywood.   In this clip, she reflects on the career Elvis dreamed of and wanted so badly, but lost: http://tinyurl.com/ln7ryf8.

                                                                          ##

Channeling Elvis: How Television Saved the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll by Allen J. Wiener is available in paperback and Kindle e-book editions from Amazon.com in the U.S. at this link:  http://tinyurl.com/mhyaouz; and in the U.K. (paperback): http://tinyurl.com/kyolbnm; (Kindle): http://tinyurl.com/qdbk9cb

Music: The Stuff of Life

People are most moved by music that reaches deep inside them and evokes feelings and passions that they may not be able to express as powerfully as music can.  Not that all music has to be deeply meaningful or carry a powerful message.  Indeed, rock ‘n’ roll was built on a lot of up-tempo, danceable songs that had little to say, but made people feel good.  But, even some of rock’s earliest stars were able to deliver passionate, moving ballads that captured the emotions of teenagers and, perhaps, a few older folks as well.  Folk singers can move audiences with songs that come directly from their own passions, often reflecting deep commitment to social or political causes.  Religious music reaches listeners on a spiritual level.  County & western songs often involve listeners by relating the triumphs and tragedies of everyday life, and blues are called “the blues” for good reason.

I was reminded of how powerfully music can affect people while viewing the documentary film Alive Inside, an Audience Award winner at the 2014 Sundance Film Festival.  The film explores the human mind’s deep attachment and responsiveness to music and its healing power.  Filmmaker Michael Rossato-Bennett followed Dan Cohen, a social worker, on his visits to Alzheimer’s and dementia patients, many of whom were completely uncommunicative, even with their closest relations, hostile, or nearly comatose. Cohen saw how frustrated and saddened their loved ones were at the inability to communicate with a parent or spouse suffering from these diseases.  He hit upon the idea of playing music for these patients.  He talked to them, or their families, about the kind of music they liked or enjoyed in earlier years and then created individual playlists on iPods tailored for each patient.  The results were astonishing.  People who rarely even opened their eyes suddenly bolted up and began moving to the music or singing along with it.  One psychologist explained that victims of these diseases often withdraw within themselves out of frustration at not being able to communicate or interact with others.  Cohen’s music drew them out of their long inward retreat back into the world around them.  They didn’t only respond to the music, but also began talking, answering questions, becoming part of their families again. 

Cohen and medical professionals suggest that our health system is ill-equipped to deal with patients in this way and is locked into more traditional treatments, which cannot achieve such results.  Only by thinking outside the box was Cohen able to reach these patients.  He won followers within the medical profession as well, but his biggest fans are the people he helped and their grateful families.  Alive Inside provides astonishing evidence of how humans are wired to music in ways that we don’t fully understand.  It also helps explain why performers who sing with real passion draw us in and reach us on an emotional level, forming a connection that appears to last long after we have heard the music. 

Alive Inside is available on Netflix and you can view the trailer here: http://tinyurl.com/l5o6gs2. 

You may also want to visit the film’s website: http://www.aliveinside.us/#land. 

David Cohen’s work led the founding of Music and Memory, a non-profit organization that brings personalized music into the lives of the elderly or infirm.  The organization trains care providers and families to create iPod playlists for their loved ones who suffer from Alzheimer’s, dementia and related conditions so they may again connect with the world around them through music. 

To learn more about Music and Memory, or to make a donation to the organization, visit their website:  https://musicandmemory.org/about/mission-and-vision/  

Hy Gardner Calling!

Elvis’ appearance on Hy Gardner Calling!, a locally televised New York interview program, is not generally regarded as one of his most important television appearances, yet it is significant.  Elvis was interviewed on the air by Gardner only hours after his controversial appearance on The Steve Allen Show, where he had been formally attired in white tie and tails and sang “Hound Dog” to a live basset hound.  Although he never expressed misgivings about the staging to Steve Allen, Elvis was uncomfortable with it and privately complained about it.  During the Gardner interview he also put on a brave face and claimed to have enjoyed himself on the Allen show. 

The following excerpt from Channeling Elvis: How Television Saved the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll describes how Elvis’ appearance was arranged through the unlikely intermediary of comedian Milton Berle.  Elvis had appeared on Berle’s show a month earlier and created a storm of controversy with an unbridled performance of “Hound Dog” that many critics found tasteless and even offensive.  Allen’s staging of Elvis was seen as a way to prevent him from busting loose on camera again.  Unlike Allen, Berle genuinely warmed to Elvis and the rocker liked Uncle Miltie too, so it was Mr. Television who acted as midwife between Gardner and Colonel Parker to arrange Elvis’ appearance.  Gardner’s wife, Marilyn, who also appeared on the show, relates her impressions of Elvis when he was at a moment of some vulnerability, caught up in the whirlwind of press attention and public adoration, trying to maintain a punishing schedule, and finding few opportunities like this to reflect on his career, including his obvious ambition to succeed in Hollywood.  The excerpt is followed by a clip of the original TV interview.

“Having suffered what he regarded as a public flogging on Steve Allen’s show, Elvis Presley would have been happy to call it a night and return to his suite at New York’s Warwick Hotel. However, Colonel Parker had agreed to allow newspaper columnist Hy Gardner to interview Presley on his TV show, Hy Gardner Calling!, at 11:15 p.m. Ironically, the interview had been arranged by Milton Berle, who retained his warm feeling for Elvis, and who also had appeared on Allen’s show earlier in the evening.

“’We were always looking for newsmakers and top celebrities,’ Gardner’s widow, Marilyn, recalls, ‘and we knew that Elvis was around and making a lot of noise. There were articles in the papers rapping him, saying things like rock and roll is responsible for juvenile delinquency. Some mayors were saying “we will not allow him in our town; he is creating all of this trouble.” There were all kinds of silly rumors about him, and some rumors that weren’t so silly. All of that was sort of lurking in the background. Then one night Hy had Milton Berle on the show. Afterwards Milton was saying goodbye and, very casually, he asked “How would you like to interview Elvis on the show?” And Hy, just as casually, said “Yes, that would be nice.” That was how it came about.’

“Berle’s overture came at a crucial juncture, when criticism of the singer had turned increasingly sharp and Colonel Parker’s concern about Elvis’ image was growing. Berle was well liked in the Presley camp, and he was able to persuade Parker that Gardner was not out to get Elvis. In fact, the interview would allow Presley to respond to the harsh press criticism that had been swirling around him. Perhaps the Colonel thought that Elvis would charm the New York critics, who had treated him more harshly than most, and win over more adults by appearing on a late-night show that was aimed at them, rather than teens. Whatever his thinking, Elvis’ appearance on Hy Gardner Calling! was the only televised personal interview he ever gave.

“Hy Gardner was a well-known New York Herald-Tribune columnist who also appeared on a number of television panel shows, most notably To Tell the Truth, which debuted in December 1956. He also appeared regularly on Tonight! and America After Dark, a short-term substitute for Tonight! after Steve Allen abandoned it early in 1957. Gardner specialized in profiling show business celebrities and other newsmakers, and he hosted a nightly ten-minute TV interview program in New York called Face to Face. His weekly Sunday-night show, Hy Gardner Calling!, also aired only in the New York area and consisted of interviews conducted by telephone, with the subject seemingly at home, but actually seated in one studio, while Gardner sat at his desk in another. The telephone hook-up was real, and there was no physical proximity between host and guest. The show premiered in 1954 on New York City’s NBC affiliate station WRCA-TV, Channel 4, and ran until 1965. After that it was broadcast by WCIX-TV, Channel 6, in Miami, Florida, until the early 1980s, making Gardner one of television’s most durable personalities.

“Gardner pioneered the TV talk show and the device of live telephone interviews, as well as use of the split-screen technique, which enabled viewers to see both the guest and Gardner, even though they were in different places. He conducted the only television interview ever granted by Montgomery Clift, and he numbered among his guests countless top names from Hollywood, including Groucho Marx, Maria Callas, Jayne Mansfield, Ginger Rogers, Cary Grant, Jack Benny, and many others.

“Elvis was one of the program’s few guests who did not undergo a pre-interview prior to his appearance, and Parker granted Gardner full latitude in questioning Presley. ‘Elvis had no problem answering anything that Hy asked him,’ Marilyn says. ‘We weren’t given any instructions in advance that “you cannot say this” or “you cannot mention that.”  I think he respected Hy and he knew that Hy was going to ask questions about rumors that had been printed about him and so forth. He knew he wasn’t going to embarrass him.’ It also may have been the only time, outside of charity gigs, that Parker permitted Elvis to appear without a fee. Because Gardner’s show was classified as a news program, guests were not even paid the usual minimums dictated by union rules.

“Presley arrived at WRCA-TV’s studio in Rockefeller Center for his live appearance with Gardner shortly after finishing Steve Allen’s show. After briefly greeting Gardner and his wife, who also served as his secretary and on-air telephone operator, Elvis was ushered to a studio on a different floor, while the Gardners took up their positions at adjoining desks.

“By the time Elvis picked up the phone to answer Gardner’s questions, he was clearly tired, unhappy about his appearance on Allen’s show, and somewhat fed up with repetitious questions about the ‘evil’ impact of his music. It was as if he would forever be required to explain himself. Marilyn Gardner recalls that Presley was ‘very shy and had a lock of hair falling over the middle of his forehead. He was extremely polite. It was “Yes sir” and “Yes Ma’am.” He was just a sweet, nice boy who seemed a little embarrassed and a little confused.’”

Paste the following URL into your web browser to view the entire Hy Gardner show:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=z1f_V32Ojb0

Channeling Elvis: How Television Saved the King of Rock 'n' Roll:

U.S: http://tinyurl.com/mhyaouz

U.K.: http://tinyurl.com/kyolbnm
Website: http://tinyurl.com/po638bd

The Missing 1955 Elvis Presley Film

                                                                Bill Haley & Elvis Presley - October 20, 1955


Perhaps the most eagerly sought after rock ‘n’ roll artifact is a short concert film that was shot at a high school auditorium in a suburb of Cleveland, Ohio, on October 20, 1955.  Not only is the whereabouts of this film unknown, but it has never been publicly screened.  Most of the interest in it stems from its inclusion of a five-song set performed by Elvis Presley, which almost didn’t get filmed at all. 

Cleveland disc jockey Bill Randle had established himself as the nation’s leading D.J. at the time and had been written up as such in Time magazine, no less.  In addition to his six-days-a-week radio show on Cleveland’s WERE Radio, Randle also hosted a Saturday afternoon show out of New York.  Like his contemporary Cleveland D.J. Alan Freed, Randle was in the vanguard of disc jockeys who played the new hybrid music that was quickly becoming known as rock ‘n’ roll.  Indeed, Freed laid claim to coining the very phrase “rock ‘n’ roll” and was so successful that he had moved from Cleveland to New York, where he was a leading radio voice and concert promoter, always cultivating both white and black performers while championing the new music. 

Randle was introduced to Elvis by fellow WERE D.J. Tommy Edwards during Elvis’ first sojourn north, which had taken him to Cleveland in February 1955.  There, Elvis created a sensation at the Circle Theater and was interviewed on the air by Randle, who also played some of his Sun Records recordings.  When Elvis returned to Cleveland the following October, Randle had set up a film shoot at Brooklyn High School that included Bill Haley and His Comets, who had scored rock's first mega-hit with "Rock Around the Clock," Pat Boone, who had already scored his first number one hit, the Four Lads, a Canadian quartet whose records also had scaled the charts, and Patricia Wright, also from Canada, who had scored a hit record with the somewhat unsettling title "Man in a Raincoat."  Elvis was the only act on the bill without a national hit, nor was he well known outside the south.

The film short, perhaps the first rock ‘n’ roll concert film, was shot by a crew from Universal International Pictures and directed by Arthur Cohen, who had seen Elvis perform the previous evening, again the Circle Theater, and was decidedly unimpressed.  He was even less sanguine about Elvis during rehearsals the following day and ultimately refused to film Presley, considering him unworthy of the expense.  Randle stepped in and offered to pay those costs himself and also arranged to pay cameraman Jack Barnett out of his own pocket.  Thus, one of Elvis’ earliest live performances was preserved on film, months before his first national television appearance and even longer before his first hit record climbed the charts.  It was also Randle who introduced Elvis to the nation on his first TV appearance in January, 1956, on Stage Show, hosted by Tommy and Jimmy Dorsey.   

In the Brooklyn auditorium, Elvis reportedly performed five songs: “That’s All Right,” “Blue Moon of Kentucky,” “Good Rockin’ Tonight,” “Mystery Train,” and “I Forgot to Remember to Forget.”  Pat Boone, who waited, with increasing trepidation, in the wings before following Elvis on stage, later recalled his surprise at how powerfully Elvis electrified the audience, only losing them when he attempted to engage them in patter that Boone described as hopelessly “hillbilly.”  Boone also recalled how difficult it was for him to win over the audience after they’d seen Elvis.  A second performance was filmed that night at St. Michael’s Hall, where there were no teachers present to restrain girls from screaming, rushing the stage, and generally going mad.  Randle reported that Elvis broke his guitar strings, smashed the instrument on the floor, which resulted in complete pandemonium.  Randle called it “mass hysteria.”

                                                     Bill Randle, Scotty Moore, Elvis, & Bill Black

Filming was to have continued the following month in New York, with big band and jazz artists like Benny Goodman and Stan Kenton.  However, a strike by the electricians union shut down production and the film was never completed.  Its subsequent fate remains a mystery with few clues.  Although shot by Universal, no trace of the film or any records relating to it have ever been found in the studio’s archive.  No copyright for the film has ever been registered under any of the film’s reported tentative titles, which include The Pied Piper of Cleveland, A Day in the Life of a Famous Disc Jockey (sometimes cited merely the film’s subtitle), and Top Jock, a title Randle himself used in a newspaper column he wrote shortly after the Cleveland concert had been filmed.  Reportedly, some 48 minutes of footage was shot and was either edited to around 15 minutes, or was planned to run no longer than that. The short running time and two of the prospective titles suggest that the film may have focused on Randle, rather than the performers. 

In January 1993, People magazine reported that Randle had sold the rights to the movie short for a reported $1.9 million to a British production company, which later sold it to Polygram for $2.2 million.  Randle reportedly retained a copy of the film, or at least some of the footage, or at least implied as much in later interviews. An October 29, 2005, NPR radio broadcast included an excerpt from a 1978 Randle telephone interview with Pat Boone, which included the following exchange:

Boone: “I refer to Cleveland as the cradle of my career because it was there, you were there, certainly you were the midwife. There’s a film, what, in the Universal vaults?”

Randle: “That’s right, MCA. Somewhere, somebody’s going to go through that untouched film and they’re going to find 14-and-a-half minutes of yourself, Bill Haley and the Comets, and Elvis Presley and (chuckling) it’s going to be worth around a quarter of a million dollars.”

Randle is also heard in an unidentified, undated interview clip from a “local TV station”, likely from early 1993, following the People magazine story, which is mentioned:

Interviewer: “Now, you’ve just most recently sold it to a British combine?”

Randle: “Very deep pocket British . . . .”

Interviewer: “And, according to the People magazine, they paid you $1.9 million . . . .”

Randle: “Oh, that’s tabloid, you know.”

Interviewer: “When will we ever see that? They now have it and they’ll probably work it into some kind of a project along the way.”

Randle: “They’re working on the definitive Elvis Presley.”

Randle gave similar accounts up until his death in 2004 at the age of 81 and most of what we think we know about the film comes from Randle, whose stories varied with the years and were sometimes contradictory.  The Pied Piper of Cleveland remains missing and may no longer exist.  At least on report claims that its soundtrack was destroyed somewhere along the way.  Nonetheless, even a brief glimpse of the unbridled Elvis Presley late in 1955, before he had been absorbed into the mainstream, would be among the most important images we might have of the man.  A few early clips of him have survived, but this footage truly remains the holy grail of rock ‘n’ roll.  The search goes on. 

Channeling Elvis: How Televisions Saved the King of Rock 'n' Roll:  http://tinyurl.com/mhyaouz

Author's Books: http://tinyurl.com/po638bd

Facebook Page: http://tinyurl.com/pofg47v