Spring 1975
Friday, December 11, 2009 at 3:53PM 
I lived in Memphis in the shadow of Graceland for 8 years. Though we saw Priscilla, and Lisa Marie riding her horses and go-carts, and Vernon and many other family and friends, we never saw Elvis.
During this intensely innocent age, I became fascinated with beavers. The woods behind my home contained a creek that connected two lakes, and this environment was teeming with beavers and their unmistakable industry. I marveled at one dam that was over 6 feet tall, and both lakes contained classic beaver lodges.
However, just as I never saw Elvis, I never saw a beaver. Beavers are nocturnal, and truth be told, I did see a shadowy glimpse of several at night with my not-yet-diagnosed legally blind vision, including some gliding silently through the water; silent, that is, until they smelled me with their little wet nose and slapped the water with their tail before diving to safety. But never did I see a beaver in all its glory when the sun was up.
The day we drove to our new home in Huntsville in May of 1975, my luck changed dramatically. As we entered the city, there, on the side of the road, I spotted a beaver in broad daylight. My dad, surprisingly, careened wildly to a halt in the roadside gravel upon hearing my “beaver!” shriek. Having read for years how slow and clumsy beavers were on land, I jumped out thinking that I might be able to capture this handsome specimen. However, the speed with which he or she returned to the creek from which it had come was astonishing.
Back in the car, with the family in high spirits, my father announced that Elvis was in town for a concert. Ten minutes after the beaver episode, we pulled into the swanky, sparklingly-new Huntsville Hilton. Dad said that it was almost guaranteed that Elvis would be staying there, so we pulled into the back parking lot and came in by the dock. There were some young ladies congregated there bouncing with joyful, nervous energy. As I gathered in this interesting spectacle, Elvis in the flesh breezed by right in front of me, fully decked out in his classic late-period white jump suit, wearing sunglasses and a hazy, lazy smile. I am still uncertain if the palpable energy that I felt was due to his charisma or the bouncing girls, but I certainly felt something special.
Before I had even laid my head down to sleep in my new city, I had been close enough to touch Elvis, and almost close enough to touch a beaver. I interpreted these events as a sign, later proven correct, that life was going to be good in Huntsville, Alabama.
Fast forward to 2009
In our continued peeling of the onion at Lincoln Mills, we came across two rooms chocked full of Huntsville Industrial Associates’ business records. HIA was the group of 35 business and government leaders who purchased the textile mills and converted them into the Huntsville Industrial Center. In a text-book case of business acumen and prowess, HIA plowed their not-insignificant profits, derived from leasing the HIC Building to the likes of Brown Engineering, Chrysler, Boeing, and NASA, into other Huntsville properties - including conceiving and developing the Huntsville Hilton.
So when Elvis laid his head down and drifted to sleep that May night in 1975, the Lincoln Mills/HIC Building had played a significant role in his finally coming to Huntsville to perform, for Elvis would stay in no hotel but a Hilton.
Wayne |
4 Comments | 
Reader Comments (4)
Well told story. I'd forgotten about the beaver siting but remember like it was yesterday the Elvis siting! I'm pretty sure the charisma we felt was coming from Elvis.
Keep up the interesting antidotes.
Elvis AND a beaver in one day!!?? I agree with you that it had to be a sign...
My only Elvis story is one of regret. In that same year, 1975, I was given two tickets to see Elvis perform at the Omni in Atlanta. I was 15 years old at the time and was FAR more interested in heavy rock (Sabbath, Deep Purple) and Bad British Boys singing the hardcore blues (Stones, Faces, Humble Pie) than I was into the "Vegas" era Elvis so... I blew it off and didn't go. So there's the regret. Hindsight is that he would die unexpectedly soon after (77' I believe) and that would prove to be the one and only chance I would ever have to see the King. Somewhere in my attic, in a long lost cigar box, are those unused tickets. There to remind me to never let my perception of "cool" get in my way of observing what could be history...
I made a new friend today.
As I often tell the story of seeing ELVIS in a matinee in Huntsville, I think back and realize how old I am and how expensive it is to see a show now! It's amazing what your group is doing. My father [RIP] worked in the HIC building. My mom's office was over in that neighborhood and was an old house that was purchased when they expanded the interstate. I haven't lived there for so long. Like you said, nearly three decades. Watching the progress via the internet, with intentions of making a trip "home" again before it's too late... thank you for sharing dear friend. It's been a long time. I hope you know what an impact you had on a lot of lives. Happy Birthday today too... ciao
Lincoln Mills holds many dear memories of the past for me as I was born and raised in the village. My paretns came to Huntsville from Gasden, AL. My father was born in Gasden and my mother born and raised in Guntersville, Marshall County, AL. After they met and married at a very young age, my dad began working in the Dwight Cotton Mill in Alabama City (Gadsden) in about 1927. Shortly after they along with the entire Lovvorn family relocated from Gadsden to Huntsville and settled on Davidson Street in the upper section of Lincoln village, north of Oakwood Ave. Not long after my parents moved one street over to 357 Lawrence Street where they had seven children. Work was very hard in the mill during those days as there was no air conditioning in any of the buildings. All familys that lived and worked in the mill was equal and strived to work and raise their familys. Lincoln school was built in 1929 and became our beloved school for lots of years. I remember going up to the mill when I was 15 ot 16 years old and watching my mother as she worked in the spinning room. Mother never wore slacks, she always wore dresses as it was her religion to do. She was
soaking wet from perspiration. Her dress was totally wet as she stood by the huhe sponning machines and hot air was blowing all around. I will never forget seeing my mother like that. There is lot more to this story but I will stop now and submit this.