13th May 1956, Sunday

[Graeme]

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[Graeme]

      

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[silverwings]

Elvis Presley signs autographs for fans on May 13, 1956, at the Minneapolis Auditorium.

[ColinB]

Slightly less cropped:

[silverwings]

On May 13, 1956, Elvis, Scotty, Bill and DJ made their first and only appearance at the Minneapolis Auditorium. It was however, their second appearance in the Twin Cities that day, the first played that afternoon in St. Paul. The St. Paul Pioneer Press reported that 4,000 persons, only slightly less exuberant [than St. Paul], screamed and squealed through Presley’s evening show in the Minneapolis auditorium. Will Jones of the Tribune, at the time a morning paper, reviewed the appearances in his column on the TV Page as follows:
After Last Night, By Will Jones: Squeals Drown Presley’s Songs: Elvis Presley, young bump-and-grind artist, turned a rainy Sunday afternoon into an orgy of squealing in St. Paul auditorium. He vibrated his hips so much, and the 3,000 customers squealed so insistently at the vibrations, it was impossible to hear him sing. None of the smitten seemed to care. The crowd was much smaller than expected. Presley faced a sea of empty seats. When the noise started, however, even the empty seats seemed to be screaming. Presley wore a Kelly green jacket, tight blue trousers, and, disappointingly, black leather shoes. He only sang “Blue Suede Shoes.” (I couldn’t actually hear him sing it, because of the squeals. A girl in tight pink slacks assured me that’s what it was.) Uniform for the Day: Pink Slacks: Tight pink slacks were almost a uniform among the fans.
Tight white slacks and tight black slacks were popular. Presley was wearing tight black jeans and a black silk shirt when he arrived at the auditorium. A dozen policemen marched him into his dressing room. Then he stood around with his hands in his jeans posing for pictures and talking with reporters. He smiled a faint, half-sneering kind of smile at times. He didn’t look nearly so tortured or pouty as he does in most published photographs. His brown hair doesn’t appear so dark, either. He has pimples all over the back of his neck, a few on his chin, and a number of nervous facial mannerisms. The most intriguing is the repeated rapid puffing of a single cheek. His long eyelashes have a Valentino-like mascaraed look. “Any advice for all your girl friends?” asked a TV reporter. “Well, that’s a pretty stiff question,” said Presley. “I have one word for ’em – ‘Hi.’ ” People kept handing him pictures and slips of paper to autograph. His right cheek twitched each time he signed an autograph.
His Record Firm Is ‘the Biggest’. A radio interviewer asked him about his record successes. “I switched to Victor because that’s the biggest company there is,” drawled Presley. “You 19 or 21?” asked another. “I’ve heard both.” Elvis took a moment to compose himself after the Minneapolis show. “Twenty-one,” answered Presley. “Wish ah was 19.” Presley came here from Memphis, Tenn., his home. He’s been so busy he hasn’t had a chance to get home for awhile. He got a few free days by surprise after he flopped at a Las Vegas night club. They replaced him with a girl singer. The older customers in Las Vegas just didn’t dig him. I asked Presley about his movie plans. He’s been signed for one picture a year for seven years by producer Hal Wallis. “I was asked to do one of the leading parts in ‘The Rainmaker’ with Burt Lancaster,” he said. “A young kid, lovesick, real shy. I mean, he wasn’t real shy. Real jolly.
Real happy, real jolly, real lovesick. It wasn’t like me. “I took this screen test where I came in and was real happy and jolly and I didn’t like it. I did this other one where I was mad at this girl, and I liked that better — it was me.” He’s Against Any ‘Excess Actin’: As he talked, he gently stroked the hand of a pretty girl who was standing beside him waiting for an autograph. “Mr. Wallis asked me what kind of a part I’d like, and I told him one more like myself, so I wouldn’t have to do any excess actin’. So he’s havin’ somebody write one for me like that.” I asked him who was to play the girl in “The Rainmaker.” “Katharine Hepburn,” he said, “if you wanna call her a girl.” The policemen let a few lucky girls at a time into the dressing room for autographs. One who came in had a haircut just like Presley’s. Another one brought him a flattened greasy popcorn box to sign. He had a way of whipping up the crowd at the start of a song by playing a few introductory notes, stepping to the microphone, and then singing nothing. Squeals! Another pause, another false start, more squeals, and then finally the song.
The Mob Screams, Closes In: When he wanted silence to announce a number he held up a hand in the traditional platform gesture — but a double-jointed thumb twitched as he held the hand aloft. In moments of public passion, he clutched the microphone to his forehead. He ended up limp and sweating and loped off the stage half-staggering. The mob screamed and ran for him. The police marched him to a waiting car. A young, beautiful, well-dressed, highly-made-up blonde tried to get in the car with him. The police barred her. “I’m a member of his company!” she cried. “I belong with him! Stupid police!” Presley got away. The blonde walked around in the rain complaining while the rain made a soggy mess of her hair.