And there are many, many books. But this one is truly the best because it is highly focused on the MOST important relationship in Elvis's life. And that begs the question: why did it have to be? Certainly, Dee Stanley is clinically insane, but there is a tiny kernel of truth to her perverse fantasy and that is that not all dysfunctional parenting (and I do hate that term - dysfunctional, but it's late and I'm at a loss for a better term) is not maliciously "abusive" in any way at all. Gladys did what many poor people are forced to do: share uncomfortable and perhaps inappropriate sleeping accomodations with a child long after such conduct should have ceased (and would have, were they not so desperately poor and Gladys so desperately lonesome [and I do not mean that in any kind of sinister sense: just truly non-sexually lonely and alone - Vernon gone so often to Memphis during the War years to get work and so on . . .]). One visit by a social worker (or even a friend) at any time after Elvis was school-age (and then a very young 'tween) would have solved the problem with an explanation of how boys develop a sense of sexual identity during pre-pubescence and puberty would have instantly panicked Gladys into finding an alternative solution to the lack of space and her own sadness in the depths of the darkest nights of their lives. Gladys would never have deliberately harmed Elvis and we all know that. It's just one more instance in Elvis's tormented life where no one cared enough to even make a comment or suggestion. So many times, it was just the two of them, surviving bitter poverty, alone and without a solid support system. Yes, Gladys had many siblings, but she also seemed so very much alone. And Elvis was an only child. They depended on one another for emotional survival in very difficult circumstances. Yes, the many effects of Elvis's impoverished early youth took its toll later in life. No, he couldn't have relations with any woman who had delivered a child. It was not the only scar: as Dundy makes clear, poverty of the type the Presleys endured left so many. People called Vernon terrible names because after spending long stretches of time lifting heavy paint cans all day at work, he finally destroyed his back. Before that, he worked quite hard to try to make ends meet. He had a bad rep in Tupelo because of Parchman Farm and was likely denied legal employment there. So he lit out for Memphis where he found only literally back-breaking labor until he could labor no more. Remember, Vernon did stoop labor in the fields since he was 12. It eventually brought him down. So many people delighted in calling him lazy and worse names, but he certainly tried to be a good man and and a good Daddy to his son. And I am sure his own lonliness caused him to engage in activities that embarrassed or angered Elvis, who was too young to truly understand. But the three of them did love each other and did their best. Under some circumstances, sometimes a family's best just isn't good enough for a child.
And so Elvis washed the pain down with pills and injection vials. And still, the pain of it all returned, always. Dundy's account, so caring as it is, allows one to understand Elvis's inner world of unspoken torment. And he finally died the early death he expected. And the topper is that he left behind an angry, hurting 9-year-old girl who sings today with such rage. And I doubt she really understands why she is so angry. Oh, we do: we know her Daddy left her too early. But she lives life as a "Smith": still, a stranger in her own home town, just like Daddy, and just like Daddy before him. And Gladys added her sadness to Elvis's psychic stew, and he probably passed some of that down the line, too.
Maybe the next generation will be happier, and won't think so much, as Gladys's grandaughter does "about that damn back lawn."
Love and good wishes to all Elvis fans, friends, and family,
RM
