10th September 1970, Thursday
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Re: 10th September 1970, Thursday
'Elvis and Kathy' by Kathy Westmoreland:
Of course, by the next morning Elvis had read about the bomb threat in the newspaper and he was really angry with me. First, he woke me up swearing and yelling. Then, I heard him open the hall door and talk loudly to the security guard outside. He slammed the door and called room service for more newspapers. "I want all the Phoenix newspapers, get me every damn one of 'em," he said, and slammed down the phone.
When they were delivered he rifled through them, looking and mumbling and swearing to himself, but loud enough to keep me awake.
"First this sonofabitch in Vegas wants to kill me. Now, some idiot wants to blow me to pieces. Why?"
He looked over at me and his blue eyes were ablaze with anger. "Did you know about this bomb?" His voice was cold and I wanted to stay under the covers and ignore his question, but he asked me again.
"I. .. I. .. well, I knew, but. ... " I didn't want to admit that I knew.
"Why didn't you tell me about it?" His voice was cold with anger.
"Nobody wanted you to know because it might worry you after the Las Vegas threat," was my answer. "Everybody told me not to say anything to you." This sounded like an even weaker excuse when I heard myself saying it aloud.
"That's no excuse as far as you are concerned. You should have told me. How can I ever trust you if you don't tell me important things like that? Don't ever keep anything from me again, you hear?" His voice was still angry. He hadn't liked my weak excuse either.
It was the first time we came close to an argument, but I never tried to hide that kind of thing from him again. Maybe the bodyguards and the Colonel could get away with it, but Elvis had let me know that he expected complete honesty and loyalty from me--or else.
Then he cooled down and was back to his old self again, but somehow I knew that these threats took a great deal out of him. Elvis was a loving person, who gave love and affection to the world. He tried to puzzle it out, but he could never understand why anyone would want to kill him. And at that point in my life, I must admit I was equally as bewildered. I had always been very sheltered actually. I didn't know about mental cases, fixations, and compulsive behavior patterns. I didn't then, but as the years went on, I found myself suspicious and wary of crowds in general and some people in particular. But not Elvis. It seems that no matter how many death threats, and there were many of them over the years, or how dangerous some of his fans could be, Elvis never lost faith in them. He might temporarily feel fear and anger, but he eventually rose above all the ugliness. It was a beautiful thing to watch, but more than a little dangerous, too.
Of course, by the next morning Elvis had read about the bomb threat in the newspaper and he was really angry with me. First, he woke me up swearing and yelling. Then, I heard him open the hall door and talk loudly to the security guard outside. He slammed the door and called room service for more newspapers. "I want all the Phoenix newspapers, get me every damn one of 'em," he said, and slammed down the phone.
When they were delivered he rifled through them, looking and mumbling and swearing to himself, but loud enough to keep me awake.
"First this sonofabitch in Vegas wants to kill me. Now, some idiot wants to blow me to pieces. Why?"
He looked over at me and his blue eyes were ablaze with anger. "Did you know about this bomb?" His voice was cold and I wanted to stay under the covers and ignore his question, but he asked me again.
"I. .. I. .. well, I knew, but. ... " I didn't want to admit that I knew.
"Why didn't you tell me about it?" His voice was cold with anger.
"Nobody wanted you to know because it might worry you after the Las Vegas threat," was my answer. "Everybody told me not to say anything to you." This sounded like an even weaker excuse when I heard myself saying it aloud.
"That's no excuse as far as you are concerned. You should have told me. How can I ever trust you if you don't tell me important things like that? Don't ever keep anything from me again, you hear?" His voice was still angry. He hadn't liked my weak excuse either.
It was the first time we came close to an argument, but I never tried to hide that kind of thing from him again. Maybe the bodyguards and the Colonel could get away with it, but Elvis had let me know that he expected complete honesty and loyalty from me--or else.
Then he cooled down and was back to his old self again, but somehow I knew that these threats took a great deal out of him. Elvis was a loving person, who gave love and affection to the world. He tried to puzzle it out, but he could never understand why anyone would want to kill him. And at that point in my life, I must admit I was equally as bewildered. I had always been very sheltered actually. I didn't know about mental cases, fixations, and compulsive behavior patterns. I didn't then, but as the years went on, I found myself suspicious and wary of crowds in general and some people in particular. But not Elvis. It seems that no matter how many death threats, and there were many of them over the years, or how dangerous some of his fans could be, Elvis never lost faith in them. He might temporarily feel fear and anger, but he eventually rose above all the ugliness. It was a beautiful thing to watch, but more than a little dangerous, too.
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