Scotty and Elvis: Aboard the Mystery Train

14 I’m Pretty Much Still Here, I Guess

229 Ħ 14 Ħ I’M PRETTY MUCH STILL HERE, I GUESS One of the first things that I did after my autobiography, That’s Alright, Elvis, was published in the fall of 1997 was to hit the road with my coauthor to promote the book. We began our book tour with a train ride to New York City, a re-creation of the ride that Elvis, Bill, and I made on our first trip to New York, only this time around, there were two major differences: The first was that because I lived in Nashville, and Memphis no longer had direct train service to New York, we had to drive all the way to Birmingham, Alabama, to board the train—and the second was that nearly fifty years after my first trip, train service had gotten worse. I thought the modern trains, especially the Pullman cars, would really be knockouts, but the old ones that I travelled in the 1950s were much better. On the first leg of our trip, from Birmingham to Atlanta, a TNN camera crew accompanied us on the train, taping everything we did. That wasn’t too bad. The interviewer, Lisa Young, asked me why I had waited so long to write a book. I told her that I swore I never would do one because there were so many Elvis books out there. When I told my co-author that it had all been said, he answered, “Well, you just don’t know.” So we did a book. We stayed in the club car for most of the trip to Atlanta but said goodbye to camera crew when we arrived. It was fun being interviewed as the scenery zipped past and the train wheels made their trademark traveling music. I must admit the journey was not without flashbacks. On the first trip we were just a bunch of Memphis boys on an adventure. We didn’t know what to expect in New York. On the train we were pretty much ignored by the other passengers. There were no attractive female reporters holding microphones in our faces, hanging on our every word. This time people paused to shake my hand and to tell me how much the music meant to them. The conductor pulled up a chair to talk. The first trip the conductor gave us stern, watch-your-step looks. 230 Ħ I’M PRETTY MUCH STILL HERE, I GUESS Ħ We stayed in Atlanta a day or two doing interviews and a book signing that attracted an Elvis impersonator or two. I can live with that, just barely , when they wear the wigs and dress like Elvis during the Vegas years; but when they curl their lips and try to talk like Elvis I want to let out a rebel yell and run out the back door. From Atlanta we went to Washington, D.C., where we did more interviews and book signings, and then on to Philadelphia for more of the same. The best part about Washington was a black cab driver from Alabama who talked about how much he missed soul food from the South. He was a real trip and seemed genuinely happy to see someone from the South. I felt fine, but I kept breaking out in a cold sweat whenever I had to walk more than a few steps at a time. James noticed my sweating and kept asking me if I felt all right, and I told him I did, which was the truth as I saw it, except for maybe feeling more tired than usual. I told him that I felt better than I looked. “If you say so,” he said, unconvinced. We had book signings planned for New York, but they had to be canceled because the publisher ran out of books before we arrived and there was nothing for me to sign. If a bestseller is a book that sells out before everyone that wants one can get one then we had a bestseller. What I enjoyed most about the trip was playing a concert in Central Park with Ike Turner, Joe Louis Walker, and Matt “Guitar” Murphy. The fans were disappointed that I didn’t have books to sign, but they were very enthusiastic about the concert. Before we went on stage I hung out in one of the air-conditioned trailers with Ike and his wife. Ike and I have some of the same memories of recording for Sun Records and performing in the racially...