Elvis Presley Shows 'Em He Can Still Gyrate
By Jan Jarboe
(newspaper unknown)
October 9, 1974

Elvis Presley and I go back a long time - even if he doesn't know it. Last night he was in town and I saw him but (quite predictably) he didn't see me. It was some consolation, however, that what seemed like half of San Antonio was in the same boat for the Convention Center Arena was simply teeming with screaming, kicking, shouting, whistling and otherwise uncontrollable Elvis fans

Presley, who crammed a rambling, composite of old and new songs into the one-hour show was the essence of what he sang about. He was indeed "all shook up".

Some unenlightened folks said righteously that Presley was literally "nothin' but a houndog." Yes he was the "Big Boss Man" and in a word, a "heartbreak."

It would have been news if the audience had NOT acted the way all Elvis Presley audiences act. But the san Antonio crowd was no different.

The ring of police surrounded the stage had to keep back half-hysterical girls who had come a-begging for one Elvis' sweaty, giveaway scarfs. Song after song was interrupted by shrill screams from every corner of the arena. And, when Presley gyrated to the music, it was uproarous bedlam. But i understand all that, I really do.

My fascinationwith Presley started just about the time the rest of the world lost interest in him, the middle 1960s.

Reared a fairly strict religious fundamentalist. Presley was the only one allowable "sin" in my house. I suppose my parents figured anybody that sings "How Great Thou Art" with as much sincerity as Elvis does, can't be all bad.

Young but convincing, I made up my mind that the only way I would ever meet Presley was to become a newspaper reporter. Little did I know, Presley hates reporters more than getting old and he hasn't granted an interview in years. I mean years. I might as well have pursued the art of manufacturing silk scarfs.

It wasn't easy being an Elvis fan on a college campus during the militant 1960s. it was tough, real tough. In fact, it was almost equal to supporting the bombing of Cambodia or wearing dresses - not blue jeans - to classes. But it was more funthan now when it is downright fashionable to be a Presley freak.

I realized that the last night when the emcee proclaimed only seconds after Presley left the stage: "Ladies and Gentlemen. Elvis has left the building." I was sort of relieved.

And, the fainting spelss no doubt suffered by at leasta few over-enthusiastic fans last night are all too familiar. You see, the first time I saw Elvis it was a great sacrifice to my kinsmen.

It was in the fall of the year. Elvis was due to perform in the evening at the Houston Fat Stock Show and Rodeo, utter catastrophe struck our household: My brother's two treasured and expensive cows fell dead suddenly and unexpectedly about three hours before showtime.

After surveying the situation, realized nothing could be gained from prolonged mourning, and proceed to insist that we head for the Astrodome.

Against my parents' better judgement, we left my brother to mull over his losses and went to the concert. But I never saw Presley that night

In the first place, our seats were somewhere near the roof of the Dome and Presley appeared no bigger than a wriggling white thumble. and, secondly, I fainted shortly after he walked on stage.

In the years that followed, I kept up the Presley vigil, I once organized an entire floor of a dormitory in a movment to contact Presley by phone. We ran up a $50 phone bill and never even talked to his butler.

Review courtesy of Geoffrey Mc Donnell.