Quotes From Ann Margret`s book
On meeting Elvis.....

We left with a good sense of each other. I realized Elvis was as shy and ill at ease meeting new people as I was. If nothing else at least we had that much in common. Later, he told me that he, too, thought that he detected a kindred soul in me - a smile, a glance. He sensed something was there, some kind of chemistry. but neither of us was the type who would've risked our sensitive egos with any remark that showed inner feelings............Our relationship was toobig a part of my life to ignoree. He had touched something deep within my psyche.

Somehow, Elvis has been distorted into the sort of giure that he feared - more myth than man. But the Elvis Aron Presley I knew was very much a young man at the peak of his creative poweres and enjoying life to the fulles. He was happy and fun. He ws also loving and good. The thing that caused him his bigges problems was the enormous fame that engulfed him, because at heart Elvis ws no saint or king but rather a kid.

On working with him in Viva Las Vegas:

That day we discovered two things about each other. Once the music started, neither of us could stand still Also, we experienced music in the same way. Music ignited a fiery pent up passion inside Elvis and inside me. It was oan odd, embarrassing, funny, inspiring, and wonderful sensation. We looked at each other move and saw virtual mirror images. When Elvis thrust his pelvis, mine slammed forward too. When his shoulder dropped, I was down there with him. When he whirled, I was already on my heel.
"Its uncanny," I said.
He grinned.
Whatever it was, Elvis liked it and so did I. Both of us were very shy and we hardly said anything, but everytime we began singing, we could't help but notice the similarities in the way we performed. It was like discovering a long lost relative, a soul mate.
Not long after shooting began Elvis asked me out. First, I'm told he spent some time investigating me, doing a little intelligence work to make sure I wasn't attached to anybody

Elvis the man....

he opened up to me. Like everyone else, Elvis had dreams and desires, hopes and hurts, wants and weaknesses. He didn't reveal this vulnerable side until everyone had disappeared, until those private moments when we were alone, after darkness had blanketed the city and we'd parked somewhere up in the hills and could look down upon the sprawl of LA or up at the stars.
People think of Elvis as having everything, but that wasn't at all true. He had a great capacity to love, and he wanted to be loved in return, but he knew the world he existed in, the life he led, as well as all the people who surrounded him, who hurt him, who wanted something from him - everyone but a few - made it virtually impossible for hime to ever feel that affection; and if he did, he didn't know whether or not to trust it.

Why they didn't stay together....

His wish was that we could stay together. But of course we both knew that was impossible, and that's what was so very difficult about our relationship. Elvis and I knew he had commitments, promises to keep, and he vowed to keep his word.
Both of us knew that now matter how much we loved each other, no matter how strong our bond, we weren't going to last. We tried not to think about it.
Sometimes that was impossible. We talked about marriage. We were so alike, so compatible. Elvis didn't like strong, aggressive women and I posed no threat there. He, on the other hand, was strong, gentle, exciting, and protective. Just the qualities I liked. In terms of our careers there was no conflict, only respect

Regarding Elvis' sending flowers to all her opening nights:

For opening night, June 7, 1967, friends and fans turned out in full force.....Elvis sent a huge bouquet of lowers shaped like a guitar, something he'd do every opening night from then on. I always felt a wonderfully warm glow when I saw them.

Toward the end of the five week engagement, I received another compliment. Elvis, his father, and a couple of the guys came to see the show. KNowing the hassles he went through going out in public, I was really touched that he went tot the trouble. Agterward, the entourage visited the dressing room. At one point, I was by myself in front of the makeup mirror in the innermost room of the bachsgate chamber when Elvis walked inside. I turned and smiled. He shut the door. OUr eyes met and suddenly the old connection burned as brightly and strong as it had years earlier.
Elvis complimented me on the show. Coming from him, it meant the world. I started to thank him. But Elvis interrupted. It should be the other way around he said. His smile faded and his eyes lost their playfulness and turned serious. He started thanking me for the happiness I'd given him. All of a sudden he wanted to remember the times we;d shared, how happy we'd been, an how happy he had been.
Elvis then stepped forward and drpped to one knee. He took my hands in his. Ifelt the heat in both of our bodies. In a soft, gentle voice, weighted by seriousness, he told me exactly how he still felt about me, which I intuitively knew. but was very touched to hear.

Some years later:

One night, as I went from table to table, I spotted some of Elvis’ guys. I thought, “How nice, they came to see my show.” I worked my way back toward a booth and suddenly I knew exactly who I’d find sitting there. Sure enough, he stood and the spotlight caught his famous grin.
“Ladies, and gentlemen,” I said. “I’m sure you know who this is”
As the audience screamed and clapped, Elvis then imkprovised a short dance with me. But deliberately he threw me off track, so I whispered, “I’m going to get you for this.” Elvis, though, wasn’t through. As I made my way back to the front, he somehow got backstage and as I finished up, he ran on and slid halfway across the stage, stopping right at my feet. The audience went wild. “Pretending it was nothing extraordinary, I said, “I didn’t know you could do a knee slide.” Elvis laughed harder than anyone.

Another time Roger and I arrived in Las Vegas a few days prior to an engagement and Elvis invited us to a party. When we arrived, there were about one hundred people in his enormous suite. Elvis was entertaining a few people off to the side of the living room with a sample of his karate moves. He had studied martial arts for many year and was excellent at it.

As soon as he spotted me, he got that familiar mischievous look in his eye. He knew he could have some fun.
“Hey Rusty, come over here,” he called.
“Sure,” I said gamely.”What do you want to do?”
Flashing his crooked grin, Elvis explained that he wanted me to stand perfectly still while he threw several karate chops my direction and showed how close he could come to my face without touching or hurting me. A mistake of a mere millimeter could kill me, injure me severely, at the least. I trusted him implicitly.
“Now, don’t move,”he warned. “Don’t even flinch.”
“I won’t,” I said. Elvis stepped back, faced me and bowed slightly and then with lightning speed, reeled off several punches. They happened so fast I couldn’t see them, although I did feel a slight breeze touch my face. Afterward, he shook his head in amazement.
“You know. You’re crazy,” he marveled.
“So are you,” I smiled.

Roger might have been more nervous than I was, but he was amazed as well. It’s a funny thing. One of the traits I love about my husband is that he was never jealous of the friendship I shared with Elvis. If it had been another old boyfriend who periodically appeared in my life, bearing flowers and gifts, I don’t think he would have been as understanding. But Elvis was different, he was special, and like everyone else, Roger put Elvis in a category all his own. He knew that we had a unique understanding of each other, a bond that would never be broken, and he didn’t try. In fact, he and Elvis got on well.

In 1972 after Ann Margret had recovered from an accident where she fell from a height whilst on stage:


When Roger and I left our LA home after Thanksgiving 1972, and headed for the Las Vegas Hilton, we were consumed by the anxiety and press attention surrounding my comeback. We arrived at the hotel several days early in order to settle in before opening night on November 28. Elvis happened to be the headliner when we checked in, and was ensconced in the performer’s suite atop the hotel. We were in a suite a few floors below. I regarded Elvis’ presence as an extra bonus. I was pleased to know he was nearby, and I hoped we could connect somehow………………….late one night as roger and I entertained friends in our suite, Elvis and a few of the guys came by unexpectedly.
Despite the crowd, Elvis managed to get me alone at one end of the living room, where we conducted a conversation in hushed voices. It was kind of funny. I was worried about talking to him while not being rude to my other guests, but he wanted to get personal. Suddenly, he wanted to play catch up. He wanted to know all about the accident, my recovery, Daddy.

It was so easy for us to lapse into the closeness we’d always shared, but it was clear from some of Elvis’ comments that he really missed having me in his life. He missed having a friend, someone who understood him as well as someone he trusted. Neither of us noticed that Roger repeatedly walked by and tinkered with the thermostat on the wall in an effort to eavesdrop. We laughed about it afterward.

I eventually told Elvis all I could and then had to go back to our guests. He also had to prepare for his show. I knew that I’d hear from him again, though. An I did.
Late that night the phone rang in our bedroom. I knew who was on the other end, and I was pleased that Roger was in the living room next door. If he had answered the telephone, I supposed Elvis would have hung up, just like in the movies.

Elvis told me how great it had been seeing me earlier. I looked wodnerful. His prayers for my recovery had been answered. But then his tone changed. Saying he was lonely, he asked if he could see me. It was a question I’d anticipated since afternoon but hoped that he wouldn’t really ask.
“You know I can’t.”
“I know,” he said.”But I just want you to know that I still feel the same.”

1977:


In March of 1977, I taped my next TV special, Rhinestone Cowgirl, in Nashville. Since I was so close to Memphis, I half expected to hear from Elvis. Someone had told me he'd canceled a recent tour because of illness and was at Graceland. Even when we didn't see each other for stretches of time, there was always a flow of messages: "Hi. How ya doing?" Stuff like that. Elvis kept in touch through mutual acquaintances like Joe Esposito and Nancy Sinatra. Roger and I once had a slot machine made up to give to Elvis on his birthday - instead of three bars, you won with three guitars.

Lately, I had been very worried about him. During my last stint in Vegas, while performing at the Tropicana, Joe came to the show and I questioned him about Elvis health. I'd heard things that troubled me and wanted to investigate for myself. I never came right out and sked Joe about specific problems, but I hinted at things and made myself clear. I'm sure of that.
"Don't worry," he told me. "Everything's fine. There're a few problems, but we're taking care of them."

I looked Esposito straight in the eye. I knew he was covering up for Elvis, and he knew that I knew. but neither of us said anything. If he would've come forward about the difficulties Elvis was having, I would have been there in a second to intervene. But the matter was kept private.

When I opened at the Hilton on August 15, 1977, there was, for the first time since I began doing my nightclub act, no guitar shaped flower arrangement from Elvis. He hadn't missed an opening in 10 years. No flowers, no telegram, no message. It was strange. I did two shows that night, but not without worrying in the back of my mind that something was wrong, and I had to make some phone calls the next day.

I got off stage sometime after midnight, and Roger and I did't get to sleep until the middle of the night. On the morning of August 16 - despite a "Do Not Disturb" order at the switchboard - our phone rang, and Roger answered. It was Shirley Dieu, Joe Espositios girlfriend. They spoke briefly, but as they did Roger looked at me and I could see the grief building in his eyes.
"It's Shirley," he said.
"Something's wrong," I blurted in a panic. "It's Elvis, isn't it?"
I got on the phone and Shirley told me as many of the awful details as she knew. I turned ice cold. Elvis was dead. I couldn't speak. I started to weep and handed the phone to Roger, who finished up and left word for Joe to call when he had the chance.

Soon after, Joe himself called back. I was so distraught, I could barely hold the phone. Joe told me the funeral was taking place on the 18th, but said he didn't expect us to be there.
"It's going to be a madhouse,"he said. "You don't have to come."

I knew I had to go and say goodbye in person. If I'd been the first to die, he would've been there for me.
"We're coming," I said.

Lastly:

I will never recover from Elvis' death. He is a part of me, of my happiness and my sorrow, and that will never go away. Elvis and I crossed paths at a time when we were both young, passionate , vulnerable, and idealistic. I treasure the time we were together, and I feel lucky and fulfilled that we were able to sustain such a long, loving and caring friendship. It's rare to have such a friend as Elvis. rare to have such a soul mate.
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