Happy Birthday Elvis!
hen I was a younger man, I found myself in the Catskill
Mountains after leaving the service of the United States army. The year
was 1970. I was twenty years old and the country was trying to get out
of a war it really didn�t want to be in.
Having no idea what to do with my life, I decided to go to work for my older brother who was the swimming instructor at Grossinger�s Hotel, a world famous resort in New York State. I figured a few months working at the �G� would do my soul good.
I met my older brother at the Triangle Bar, which was located at the foot of the road leading to the hotel. We hadn�t seen each other for a few years, and, it took a few beers to cover the goings-on of our lives.
�So, how did you like the army?� my brother asked me.
�If I never see the color green again�it would be too soon,� I think I relied.
He told me he had secured me a job as the boat-boy. Actually, boatman. That it was a great job: I�d be working down at the lake renting out rowboats, being the lifeguard, and, I�d be coming from a long line of famous boatmen, that Mel Brooks had held the job some twenty-five years earlier.
I was excited! The job sounded perfect. I could sit there through the Summer, reading books and writing stories. Then, I could decide what to do with my life when the Fall came.
My brother drove me up to a cabin in the woods where I�d be living. It was the �Milton Berle house,� if I remember correctly. You could still hear the bad jokes bouncing off the walls of the place if you listened real hard. I had my own studio apartment. It had a dresser, and a double bed, a necessity if you plan to do any socializing. And, it had a view over looking the �Buster Crabbe Outdoor Pool.� It was heaven.
There was another person living in the top part of the house. I could hear the music coming from upstairs the moment I entered the place. It was not just any music, or I was to found out later�it was the music of Elvis! Now, I�ve never been a great fan of Elvis, not that there is anything wrong with him. It�s just that I�m more of a Sinatra and Tony Bennett kind of guy. I guess it was my Philadelphia upbringing.
After unpacking, I decided to go upstairs and meet my new neighbor. The first thing I noticed when I climbed the stairs was the life size poster of Elvis hanging on the door to the room where the music was coming from. I knocked, trying not to hit old Elvis in any vital parts. The door opened on the fifth knock. A girl, not too tall, with the most beautiful blue eyes, and long brown hair, stood there dressed in a cowgirl outfit!
�Hi, I�m Bobby Rippon,� I said. �Just moved in downstairs, just wanted to say hi.�
She didn�t say a word, just pulled me into her room and pushed me down into a chair.
�Listen,� is all she said.
I sat there listening to Elvis singing about his broken heart and how nobody understood what he was feeling. This gave me the chance to look around the room and see for the first time an obsession in full bloom. Every inch of this room was covered in Elvis memorabilia from album covers, to clippings from newspapers. I realized I was dealing with someone who took her Elvis very seriously. The song ended.
�Great isn�t he? I think this is one of his masterpieces. It really makes me understand the pain the man must be going through.�
I shook my head yes, thinking I should have his problems. She walked up closer to me and asked, �Who are you?�
�I�m Bobby Rippon. I�m your new downstairs neighbor, I�ll be working down at the lake.�
She preceded to put on another record. Of course it was Elvis.
�Well, I hope you are more sensitive then the last person who lived downstairs. He actually didn�t like Elvis�could you believe that?�
I made a face with just enough disbelief, that she accepted that I was okay.
I studied her as she moved around the room straightening her Elvis pillows, and dusting off the picture of Graceland, the home of Elvis for those of you not informed.
�The boatman, why that�s a real nice job,� she said to me.
She had a twang in her voice. Not really deep south I thought, as Elvis started his crying on the record player again.
�Are you from the south?� I asked her.
Well, you would have thought I just asked her what was so special about Elvis, or insulted her family.
�Am I from the south?! Boy, I�m from Tennessee. My cousin, Randolph, is a distant cousin of the King himself. So, that makes me a direct descendent.�
I assumed she was speaking of Elvis when she said the King. But, I wasn�t going to delve any further. I rose out of my chair and started for the door. I had a great deal to�like see the lake, and get settled in.
�I work as a waitress at the coffee shop in case you are wondering. It might come in handy when you are hungry at night, and there�s no food around.�
I had a feeling she was talking about more then food when she mentioned to me about being hungry. There was something in those cowgirl eyes.
�Hope to see you soon,� she said, then waved her Elvis banner at me.
I didn�t see Bobby Jo for a few days. That�s her name I found out later. She was working in the resort for the Summer, then was returning to nursing school in the Fall.
One night, I was returning to my place after working a private party at the lake for a group of drunken proctologist. They were up at the resort for a week. They all seemed to like to shake hands a lot. I was tired and looking forward to a good night sleep, when I heard Bobby Jo call me from the top of the landing. I looked up the stairs towards her room, and there she stood, dressed from head to toe in a white cowgirl outfit, that fit like a glove. I entered her room to the sounds of Elvis crying about some pair of shoes or something. I knew better then to speak while Elvis was singing. I waited patiently till the record was over. She went into one of her closets and came out with a jacket the color of fool�s gold. It had rhinestones dangling from the sleeves, and buttons that could blind you.
�Go ahead, put it on.�
I looked around the room to see if there was anyone else there.
�Oh, go ahead, It�s an exact replica of the jacket Elvis wore on his first gig after getting out of the army.�
She came up close to me holding the jacket and slowly rubbed up against me as she helped me try it on. I had the strangest feeling I should be careful with this cowgirl. Not too careful...but there was something about her that made me weak in the knees, and hard in the groin.
She ran back to the record player, put another record on, and then came back to where I was standing wearing that silly jacket�and fell into my arms. The song came on. I had heard it before. The lyrics were, �love me tender.� She was now so tight against me with her eyes closed that I thought to myself�this was too easy. She was throwing herself at me and I was feeling a little nervous. What was the catch?
We danced around the room while Elvis sang to us. She was in another world, I could see that. I was thinking that maybe I should just relax and enjoy the moment. I was just starting to move her towards the small bed in the corner when the record ended. She opened her eyes slowly, as if expecting Elvis himself to be there. She reached up and gave me the biggest, wettest kiss I had ever experienced�and then removed the jacket from my body�and shoved me out the door!
�I got to got to work early breakfast tomorrow,� she said to me. Then closed her door as if nothing had happened between us. I stood on the landing for a moment trying to get my bearings. I walked slowly down the stairs to my room and lay on my bed listening to Elvis sing above me. �Was I up against the King himself,� I asked myself, as I fell asleep to a song about �a blue Christmas.�
The proctologists left and went back to Cleveland. A new group checked into the hotel. Nine hundred single men and women from the tri-state area. The theme for the week was �be your own fantasy.� You could dress up in any costume you wanted�if it brought out your inner self. I didn�t realize chains could be used in so many creative ways.
But, I just couldn�t get Bobby Jo out of my mind. I hadn�t seen her since the night of the jacket episode. I would hear her music some nights, but for some reason I never got up the nerve to knock on her door. I felt as if I was interrupting something when she had her music on. It was sort of her Elvis temple. Who was I to interrupt the King and his gal?
But one night, I heard Bobby Jo crying. She was crying as if someone had broken into her sanctuary and smashed all of her Elvis records. Long, high, moans came from above me. Finally, I could stand it no longer and went upstairs, and knocked on her door. It took a moment or two before she answered. When she finally opened the door I peeked inside to see if there was anyone else in the room making her cry that way. There was not. But, around her room, on every table and available space there were lit candles. And, on her bed was laid out a suit. A suit of such beauty, suck sparkle, that I had to look behind the door to see if Elvis was standing naked back there!
�Please come in,� she said to me between sobs.
�What�s wrong?� I wanted to know. �Did somebody die?�
�Oh no,� she said. Today, is the King�s birthday. It�s the most wonderful day of the year for me. I�m crying for joy.�
�Oh good, I�m relieved to hear that. Is there anything I can do to help you celebrate this most important day?�
She had that look in her eyes again. She had that look from the moment I entered her room. She walked over to the door and locked it. Dead bolt and all! She then turned to me and stared.
�From the moment you came into my room the first time, I knew you were the one. The way you are built with those small hips, and those blue eyes.�
I wasn�t sure what she was driving at.
�Just tonight, will you do me a favor and do whatever I ask you to do?�
Now, I�m not a great believer in Astrology, but I had a feeling my stars were about to align.
�Okay, I said,� trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.
�Take the suit off the bed and put it on in the bathroom. The whole suit. Don�t come out until you are completely dressed.�
I picked up the suit and was moving towards her bathroom when she pulled something from under her bed. She handed me a rubber mask with the true likeness of Elvis. It had openings for the eyes and mouth. I took the mask without saying a word and preceded to the bathroom. I started changing into the outfit before I had a chance to think about what I was going.
When I finished dressing, and had put the mask on, I stared into the mirror. To my amazement, Elvis stared back at me! I was feeling weird, I got to tell you, but I had to go back out there�I had taken the leap. When I opened the bathroom door leading into her room, all of the lights had been turned down. The candles were the only light in the room leading to her bed like an airport runway. It took me a minute to get my night vision. When I walked towards her bed, my legs started to shake. Not unlike the way Elvis shook his legs. There, lying on the bed, stark naked, Elvis music playing, her arms and legs opened, lay Bobby Jo! I moved up next to her and kissed her through the mask. I heard her say it�
�Oh Elvis, sweet Elvis, won�t you break my heart?�
And with that we preceded to make love to every Elvis record ever made�everyone. For a time I wasn�t sure who I was as she took control of me, whispering in my ear, �Happy Birthday, Elvis, I hope you like your gift.� There was even a moment when I thought I heard a hound dog bark!
We never made love after that night. There was simply no way to top it. We would see each other in passing, and she would smile at me, and go on her way.
She left to go back to nursing school in September. I stayed on at the resort and worked through the winter. I wasn�t sure what I wanted to do with my life yet. Once, I thought I saw Bobby Jo on TV. It was some kind of show honoring the King. After that I didn't think about her �til one day I received a postcard from her. It was from Graceland. She had scribbled a few words on the card about how she was doing, she hoped I was okay. And, down at the bottom she printed in large letters: �Happy Birthday, Elvis. Till this day an Elvis song makes me think of you.�
It was years later, when one morning I heard the King had died. Gone to heaven to rock & roll. It was then that I found out that Elvis� birthday wasn�t even in July�but in January!
Well�I guess she just couldn�t wait.
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