Oh no, not another Elvis sighting! This is truly one for the record books. In 1976 this writer was working with a large city SWAT team. Now, part of that job description was guarding government dignitaries, or celebrities.

Mr. Presley had engaged the city to contract for a concert the following day. As the draw of the cards would have it, a co-team member and myself had the duty of lazing with his personal security staff to provide the proper, oh let's say stuff to facilitate a smooth visit.

A Col. Parker had secured the entire top floor of the local Hilton Hotel. I recall Ken, and I even having our own room.  Oh my! It was plush, with red velvet patterned wallpaper, and gilded, gold leaf furniture. As it turned out, there was no time spent in that room though.

It was the practice of Elvis to bring his entire staff along with him, and quarter them with him during his shows. After a rather lengthy conversation with his security chief, discussing the various things they required vs. the things we would do, the evening began.

As it turned out we were able to disengage one of the main elevators leading to the penthouse floors. This left only one. Ken had the duty of standing guard at the bottom floor to dissuade the many would be fans from attempting to gain access to that floor. Needless to say, he was less than enthused about this.

My job was to attach myself to Elvis, and prevent anyone who made it to him from going any further. Ok the rest of the evening was somewhat a game of musical elevator, and fending off one man in particular named Charlie Hodge from going downstairs in his pajama's to eat at the main dinning hall. I think this man was the small guy I had seen playing a guitar during his concerts, and handing him scarf's regularly.

As I recall, Elvis had the largest of the suites, with a roomy sitting area, and a short hallway leading to a bathroom on the left, connecting with his stateroom. The Hilton Hotel had spared no expense in welcoming Elvis. There was a very large table in the seating area that had a preverbal cornucopia of almost any type of food one could imagine with a most beautiful ice sculptor of an Eagle as the centerpiece. Nothing of which was ever touched until at about 3AM when I remove a large piece of ham.

Now Elvis had flown in about 4:30 that afternoon and went straight to his bedroom, where he stayed until the next day. I must admit at that age there was no particular feeling about Elvis one way or the other with me, as I would have been much more excited to have had, oh say John Lennon there. In retrospect, who would have known the legend of the man was residing down the hall.

As I was saying about 3AM, beyond hungry this writer starting imbibing assorted libations, and generally picking at the various untouched food. I had noticed about every two hours, almost like clockwork that a most beautiful Dr, would enter the room and greet me heading towards Elvis's bedroom. I understood that it was incumbent upon me to ascertain the reason for these visits, and was merely told that he needed medication every two hours.

Around 3:30 or so, I heard a distinct voice calling out to the sitting room. 'Officer, would you come in here for a moment.' (That was me.) My response was . . . "sure Elvis", and I proceeded into his bedroom.

Now, a sundry of thoughts ran through my mind. I remembered that he like police officers and enjoyed talking to them about their duties, so I thought he may have wanted to discuses something along those lines. I also remembered that he had purchased two Cadillac's for a couple of officer's in Tenn. As I entered the room I saw a huge man sitting up on the bed staring at the television. This was not unusual except that he was watching a channel with all snow...

Elvis, what are you watching, I asked noticing a beautifully engraved pearl handled colt 45 on the headboard next to him. He said, 'Oh nothing, I was just reading.' I saw a book on the bed, feeling somewhat relieved that he had not lost his mind, I inquired as to: What Book? The title has left my mind now. I could not get over the great size of this man. I remembered seeing him as a somewhat fit man from TV and movies.

My eyes keep glancing back and forth from that colt, to him as he was asking about the surrounding area. When he noticed my interest in the weapon; He reached for it, and asks if I would like to take a look? Needless to say there was a moment of chagrin as he reached for that automatic. Elvis appeared to be versed in the use of weapons and extracted the clip before handing it to me.

This was a mother of pearl handled model 1918 colt commander. The metal sections were entirely gold electroplated. On one side of the slide was engraved a beautiful image of a guitar with two musical notes. The opposite side had his name. He asked me what type of weapon I used, and I explained that I had a Browning 9mm auto.

Elvis ask to see it. As I had an M-16 slung over my shoulder, and not want to say no; I removed the clip, ejected the chambered round, and handed it to him. This writer had a death grip on that outstanding 45. Then came the memorable question. 'Officer, would you like to trade?' Bells whistles and Christmas trees danced in my head.

I exclaimed as calmly as I could SURE!! In almost the same moment I had remembered what my Captain has said. " This department will accept no gratuities of any kind." Asking Elvis to wait one second, I called my Capt, and told him of the trade that Elvis had offered. His words ring in my mind to this day. JJ, I told you that we would not receive gifts. Now this was emergency negotiating at its peak. But Capt. its not a gift, its a trade with $450.00 Browning auto.

Elvis remained silent from this point on. Now you should remember that to a 23 or 24 year old police officer, that there is no higher power on earth then his Captain. I tucked tail and said yes Sir. "Elvis we cannot accept gratuities from anyone we provide service for." I was most disturbed, and in retrospect knowing the value of that weapon today; I would have made the trade and paid cash for the house I now reside in.

The rest of the evening I sat and spoke with Elvis about all kinds of things from fishing to, does he get lonely at times? The man struck me as being that way, and understandably so. When his Dr. returned for his shot I shook his hand and left the room.

The next time I saw him was while escorting him down the service elevator through the kitchen, and out a side door to his concert. I understand that he died a year later. The memory of his kindness remains with me however.