40 Years Later, Elvis As A Narc Remains A Bizarre Story
Author: Allen Abel
Times & Transcript (Moncton, CN NK)
Mon, 22 Nov 2010

WASHINGTON - We are coming up to the 40th anniversary of one of the
most bizarre and delicious moments in American history.

In fact, according to George Washington University, "Of all the
requests made each year to the National Archives for reproductions of
photographs and documents, one item has been requested more than any
other . . . more requested than the Bill of Rights or even the
Constitution of the United States."

It is the photograph of Richard Nixon and Elvis Presley, shaking hands
in the Oval Office as the addled and patriotic King is deputized as a
Special Agent in the War on Drugs.

It was December, 1970, and Elvis had written to the White House a few
days earlier, in an anguished scrawl on American Airlines stationery,
the following letter:

"Dear Mr. President,

"First, I would like to introduce myself. I am Elvis Presley and
admire you and have great respect for your office.

"The drug culture, the hippie elements . . . do not consider me as
their enemy or as they call it the establishment. I call it American
and I love it.

"I can and will do more good if I were made a Federal Agent At Large.
I have done an in-depth study of drug abuse and Communist brainwashing
techniques and I am right in the middle of the whole thing where I can
and will do the most good."

With the healing of a drugged-out, war-weary Young America in his
heart, barbiturates in his arteries, and time on his hands, having
recently laid down Anne Murray's Snowbird and Jerry Lee Lewis's Whole
Lotta Shakin' Goin' On, the final tracks for his Elvis Country (I'm
10,000 Years Old) album, Elvis approached the White House gates,
uninvited, at six-thirty one morning. Nixon's staff hurriedly arranged
a summit conference for half past noon.

Nixon's aide Egil "Bud" Krogh (later to serve four and a half months
in prison for his role as head of the "White House Plumbers" in the
Watergate scandal), sent the president a memorandum that noted:

"Two of youth's folk heroes, Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin, recently
died within a period of two weeks reportedly from drug-related causes.
Their deaths are a sharp reminder of how the drug culture has been
linked to the rock-music culture. If our youth are going to emulate
the rock music stars, from now on let those stars affirm their
conviction that true and lasting talent is a result of self motivation
and discipline and not artificial chemical euphoria."

Mr. Krogh's recommendation for Elvis:

Record an album with the theme 'Get High on Life' at the federal
narcotic and rehabilitation facility at Lexington, Kentucky.

Elvis entered the West Wing wearing a black velvet jacket, a white
shirt open at the neck to reveal a gold lion's-head pendant, and the
gold-plated, diamond-crusted belt buckle he had been awarded as the
all-time audience record-smasher at the International Hotel (now the
Las Vegas Hilton). His hair was thick, his eyes as black and deep as
lignite mines.

"You dress kind of wild, don't you, son?" Richard Nixon
said.

Elvis replied, "Mr. President, you've got your show to run and I've
got mine."

The King received his badge and his commission and set off as a
knight-errant to more touring, more recording, more Demerol, and death
at the age of 42. He had just released an album called Promised Land
when Nixon quit in shame in 1974.

Today, 40 years after the gathering of titans, the President of the
United States is a man who, in his autobiography, reveals that, as he
struggled to define his identity as a young man: "Pot had helped, and
booze; maybe a little blow when you could afford it. Not smack, though."

"Junkie. Pothead." Barack Obama wrote. "That's where I'd been headed:
the final, fatal role of the young would-be black man. . . . I got
high (to) push questions of who I was out of my mind."

And at the Newseum, the glass-walled Louvre of journalistic history
next door to the Canadian Embassy on Pennsylvania Avenue, this
autumn's featured exhibit is the story of Elvis, his rise and fall.

In a glass case are the famous photo of the handclasp with Richard
Nixon, Presley's black velvet jacket and gold belt buckle, the
cufflinks that Nixon gave him as a souvenir, and the personalized
badge itself from the Bureau of Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs.

"The emotional Presley was so overwhelmed at getting his own, genuine,
gold-plated badge that tears sprang from his eyes," a newspaper
clipping reports.

In the next display are scenes from the funeral of a King.
"No indication of drug abuse of any kind," the medical examiner
reported.
--

Allen Abel is a dual Canadian-U.S. citizen living in Washington,
D.C. He has been a reporter, foreign correspondent, documentary film
producer, columnist and author. His column appears here every Monday.  --