Rock and Roll Tales (Elvis and Me) By Denis Price

'Go on!'urged Jim, 'Tell him where you saw Elvis'. Wednesday was quiz night at the Corner House and by the time Pete the landlord called for the intermission our team was well .. er .. stimulated and to prove it was well involved with our rivals in a discussion centring on Elvis and his career. 'So, where did you see him?' said Ron the copper and our rival team captain, fixing me with his professionally honed baleful stare. 'One of his Stateside concerts?'

This was the difficult bit, Jim had set me up as usual. This was where my credibility as a serious player in the vicious success-fixated world of the Corner House pub quiz could be jeopardized.

I swallowed nervously and attempted to counter the unblinking gaze with one of my own. It was no contest, I was like a rabbit mesmerized by oncoming headlights. 'Er ... no ... er ..' 'Well where then?' Ron's team scented blood and silently gathered around. I thought, is this the point where they take my tie, belt and shoe-laces?

'Go on then, tell him!' said Jim Forget the rabbit, forget the headlights, I was now the lone impala, separated from the herd and safety. Now harried to the point of exhaustion, I lay on the African veldt surrounded by the slavering jaws of my pursuers deliberating on who should deliver the coup de grace. But it wasn't an Attenborough intoning the sonorous voice-over.

'C'mon then', said an impatient Ron. 'Where did you see Elvis Presley?' 'Scotland' 'You what!' 'Scotland' 'You've really lost it mate, you're not on noxious substances are you?' I could see the baleful eyes narrowing as his interest moved from the recreational to the professional. His mates couldn't believe their luck.

'Hey,' said one voice, 'He can't be in Scotland, I saw him yesterday driving a double decker down Anlaby Road! Another, 'He's bloody busy then 'cos he's behind the counter in Cave Street chippy three nights a week, he's put a bit o'weight on though, must be too much o'that chat haddock! This was all predictable stuff, I was used to being dismissed as just another nutter but with my credibility in the pub at stake, the true story of Elvis and me had to be told.

It all began way back in February 1960, so long ago that even Cliff Richard was a threat. I was stationed at RAF Prestwick near Ayr in Scotland. It was a mixed airfield, part civilian, part USAF and a small RAF Air Traffic Control unit of which I was a member. It wasn't a good place to be for several reasons. Our living quarters were former war-time huts which leaked badly, food, like pay was poor and we were outnumbered by well dressed, well paid and decently housed Yanks (don't Americans get acne?)

We got the news of Elvis's stopover from an American, it seemed that he'd finished his stint in the army in Germany and was returning home with a stop at Prestwick to re-fuel. Along with a mate I wandered over to the American Arrivals Lounge to join the surprisingly, not very large crowd of Press, American military and a few fans. It was one time when our uniforms acted as a passport and we found ourselves at the front of the crowd.

When Elvis emerged surrounded by military minders he was every bit the celebrity. Shorter than I expected, immaculately dressed and tanned (it was winter) and the whitest teeth in the world. He wasn't allowed to linger but passed in front of us smiling and waving. When I've had four or five pints of John Smith's I'm inclined to say that he waved in our direction, in fact with the passage of time I'm sure he did! During my recounting of the story Ron's baleful eyes never left mine, old habits die hard I suppose.

He didn't interrupt or ask me to sign anything when I'd finished, just smiled, took a handful of our pork scratchings and withdrew to the secretive world of his team. So yes I did see Elvis in Scotland, it was only for a couple of minutes but there passed a man who changed the whole direction of popular music. Was it his great fan John Lennon who said, 'Before Elvis there was nothing!'

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