Princess Elvis

Let me tell you how my nickname came about. My sister gave it to me. It doesn’t make any sense, as you’ll see. But it stuck.

I was only a girl. So, forgive my not having all the times and dates. You can look it up. You may dispute some details but I’ll never forget that day. I was there.

Daddy brought us, Mama, me and my sister, Charlotte, to the city to see the Reverend, Dr. King. It was a big deal. You’d have thought the circus came to town for all the people. It took forever to find parking. Daddy kept mumbling under his breath and saying we’d miss it.

We didn’t though. He parked near the church and we hiked to the main street so we could see the great Dr. King. I still haven’t seen a crowd like that day. It seemed all we could do to get through the crowd to see him followed by his ministers and friends down the middle of the street. The sidewalks were jammed with people, all there to see the man.

There were lots of uniformed men too, riding tall horses.  They looked very proud. In our little town, the constable didn’t ride a horse. He mainly sat at the counter at Mose’s diner. This was all new to me.

The spring weather didn’t last. There wasn’t even a breeze. Thinking back, walking in the sun dressed in suits and ties must have been most uncomfortable. It was hot.

But I didn’t think about their discomfort at all. I was thirsty. Daddy gave Char a dollar to take me for a soda pop while waiting for the festivities. He made us remember the street sign he and Mama stood by, so we could find them.

I’d never seen Mama so anxious. “I’ll take the girls, Sam.”

Daddy looked around and hugged Mama close to him. “They’ll be okay, Bun. I want you with me when Dr. King arrives. They’ll see him at church.”

I was about six. So, that would make Char ten or eleven. She held my hand so we wouldn’t get lost from each other in the crowd. She took care of me. Even though later, after what happened she wouldn’t let it go. She never let me forget. Even up to last week’s visit. When she sees an edge, she latches on.

Back then, Char had a little radio and would listen to dance music nights when the city station came in with less static. Daddy wasn’t crazy about rock n’ roll but figured there were worse things she could be doing. So with homework done, he let her listen.

As it turned out, we made it back with our sodas, in time to see Dr. King, walk by. We heard the commotion grow as they crossed the bridge into town. Daddy hoisted me to his shoulder, so I could see him. People poured into the street to walk behind him with their arms locked. They call it a march, but no one played music. It wasn’t a parade.

Dr. King walked with dignity, head up, eyes ahead, leading the multitude to the Promised Land. The crowd swarmed but all eyes were on him. Everyone cheered and waved a handkerchief.

What a man! I know some hated him. But that day, he was untouchable.

Once he passed by, Daddy hurried us to the church down a side street. He wanted us to hear him preach. We heard bull-horns and dogs barking behind us.

Daddy said, “Keep walking. Don’t run and don’t look back.”

The church had filled by the time we got there. Somehow Daddy worked his way in with Mama and us girls in tow. Some people skootched over, letting us jam in too. I sat on Daddy’s lap. I remember the constant flutter of people fanning themselves.

We waited a long time but Dr. King never showed. We heard they arrested him and put him in jail. He just walked through town.

Oh, I forgot to tell you about my nick name.

After Daddy gave us the dollar, Char and I got free of the crowd. We found a little store that sold candy and sundries. When we stepped in you’d think we were the main attraction. There were more white people in that store than in our little town. And they all wanted to get a look at us two little girls dressed in their Sunday best.

The tall man behind the counter saw us and snapped his fingers. A stock boy ran up and the man mumbled something. The kid nodded.

He bent down and said, “What can I get you, today?”

Char said, “Two cold sodas please.”

“Follow me. Now don’t wander off.”

He led us back to one of those old low slung coolers that opened from the top. Cold vapor flowed out when he lifted the lid.

“What’ll it be?” She looked at me. I usually drank cream soda, but in honor of the occasion I splurged for a Pepsi.

“Two Pepsis, please.”

The young man handed them to Charlotte and slammed the cooler shut.

He trailed us back to the front where the tall man waited. What service! They seemed nervous but I didn’t know why. He watched us like he’d never seen kids before.

The bottles clinked as she set them on the counter.

She said, “Mister? Can you open them for us?”

“Have to pay, first. That’s forty cents.”

Char gasped, “Forty! In our town…”

“There’s a deposit on the bottles. Refund when you bring them back here.” He looked at the stock boy who chuckled.

Char gave me the dollar and nudged me to pay the man. I held it out but he didn’t take it. I’ll never forget the look in his eyes. Moments before, he had been joking with his assistant. But right then, he looked positively terrified. His pupils were pinpoints.

Char whispered, “Harriet, put it on the counter.”

I put the bill down and nudged it toward him. I remember he flinched. He looked at us for a moment, picked up the bill and examined it. Then he made change and put it on the counter even though I had my hand out.

“There’s your change. Count it.” He looked at the stock boy who giggled.

Char nudged me. “Take it, Harriet. Let’s go.”

I looked at the man behind the counter and suddenly felt sad for him. Why should he be afraid of a six year old girl? I didn’t understand all this in those days. At the time, I just felt sorry for him.

I said, “Keep it. I’m with Dr. King.” His mouth dropped open. I walked out the door and didn’t look back. Charlotte grabbed the bottles and ran after me.

This is where the story gets confused. I told the true story as I remember it. But Char twisted it and insists she remembers better. You can decide for yourself.

She scolded me all the way back to our folks. She had to leave with the bottles unopened. She couldn’t believe I gave our money to that creepy man.

Mama didn’t say anything when Char told them what I did. She was happy we were back. Daddy got serious and told Mama something about ‘city people’. He used a key to open our sodas.

Char insists, when the man put our change down, I said, “Keep it, I’m with the King.” So ever since, whenever she thinks I’m too much, she calls me ‘Princess Elvis’.

Believe what you want. Maybe she misheard that one word. Maybe I did say ‘the’ instead of ‘doctor’. I was only six. But you know what I meant.