In 1961 I had a part time job at the Block Arena on the base at Pearl Harbor. Pretty simple job...after sporting events were over and all the sailors had left the arena, my best buddy Bobby (his dad got us the gig) and I would pick up the empty beer cans and put them into the empty cardboard cases. Now, if you are too young to remember or know this, beer cans in the early 60's were still made of steel and the cases were heavy cardboard, not the flimsy stuff our aluminum cans come in nowadays. Any how, short little 12 ounce cans were worth a penny each...a quarter for a case (24 cans and a box). It wasn't too bad a deal for 14 year old.
It was because of having this job that I was able to have one hell of a memory maker. Bobby and I were able to get good seats to the concert performed to raise money to build the Arizona Memorial...headlined by non other than King Elvis, the first. The seats were so cheap we could actually afford them. I later realized that someone must have subsidized that, but at the time we were so fired up we never even considered why.
I guess I should have mentioned the kind of fan of the King I was (still am). At the time I was living on the south east rim of the Salt Lake that sits in front of Tripler Army Hospital. When Elvis came to Hawaii to film Blue Hawaii, I walked from my house down to the International Airport to see Elvis get off the plane. I stood around for a couple of hours waiting for the plane...then stood in the crowd cheering my fool head off. I never got any closer than a hundred yards to him...but it wasn't so bad...the crowd was crushing and I was surround by lots of pretty girls. Anyway, at that time I figured that was as close as I would ever get to Elvis.
I turned around and walked back home (I figure it to be about a 15 mile round trip).
A few months later it was announced he was coming back to do the concert and I never imagined I could go. We found out it was going to be at the Arena and it seemed to me to just be rubbing salt in the wound. Then Bobby's dad told us we had these great seats if we could come up with...I don't even remember how much but we both immediately shouted , "YES!"
It turned out to be the last live performance the King would give until he went on that TV special in 1968. It was one hell of a show. Floyd Cramer was on piano...Boots Randolph on sax...Bill Black on Bass...of course Scotty on guitar....they all came out and did a few numbers...then the lights went down...single spot hit the stage...out walks the King...I mean THE KING in his prime...the skinny, rockin, reelin, gyrating, undisputed King of Rock and Roll...white tux jacket, black pants, shiny black hair, and he laid it down. (Wow, I just reread that...I sound like a school girl!) We were off center. stage left, not 30 feet from the stage.
Time wasn't kind to the king. Sixteen years later I was driving through the PX parking lot at Fort Ord when I heard on the radio that he had died. I remember that I didn't picture the fat, sweaty, drugged up king he had become...I still saw the young rockin skinny King...all these years later I still see him shakin it up at the arena when I think of him.
The King is dead...long live the King.