It was drug addiction that killed for Elvis, not his greedy manager

Spectator

a day ago

Colonel Tom Parker (1909-97) was the man who ripped Elvis Presley off and worked him to death. That's the received wisdom about the person who managed the King from 1955 until his premature death, aged 42, in 1977. Peter Guralnick's book, written with full access to Parker's unpublished, witty, clever letters, now owned by the Elvis Archives, gives a more nuanced, sympathetic picture. The author is no biased sensationalist. His Elvis biography, Last Train to Memphis (1995), is one of the most serious and reliable.
So, yes, Parker was a serial liar, not least when it came to his identity. Born Andreas Cornelis van Kuijk in humble circumstances in Holland, he fled, aged 16, to America and was then kicked out. He returned three years later, changing his name to Tom Parker. He married twice but never had children and did everything he could to reject his Dutch relations.
And, yes, he did serve in the US Army, but only for two years – and never became a colonel. In 1948 he was made an honorary colonel in the Louisiana state militia and milked the empty title for the rest of his life. For more than 20 years he was an unknown carnival huckster, salesman, showman and dog-catcher. On his own admission, he was an expert at 'snowing' – his favourite word for pulling wool over people's eyes just short of conning them.
He had become a successful Country & Western promoter when, in early 1955, he heard about a 20-year-old singer driving the girls nuts at smalltime Texas concerts. He signed up the young man, buying him out from Sam Phillips of Sun Records for $35,000 – the deal of the century, but still a hefty sum then. Parker was soon promoting his client: 'We have a new boy that is absolutely going to be one of the biggest things in the business in a very short time. His name is ELVIS PRESLEY.' Capital letters would be part of the non-stop promotion campaign thereafter.
Elvis may have become the greatest rock star of all time, but that wasn't inevitable in 1955. The Colonel took a huge risk in devoting his professional life to him – Elvis soon became his only client. And the star was initially very grateful, writing to his manager: 'I say thanks and love you like a father.'
Even so, the terms were exorbitant and near-extortionary – beginning at 25 per cent and later soaring to 50 per cent. There again, Parker secured lucrative deals – which benefited him, it's true, but also brought millions flowing into Presley's bank account. The original record deal with RCA was extremely generous – as were the contracts for the films, however trashy they became. When Elvis started appearing in Las Vegas and, in 1973, for Aloha from Hawaii, the live satellite TV show, Parker dictated the small print of contracts to keep the money coming in. And Elvis always had a share of the song publishing, meaning he profited if anyone else recorded them.
The music side of things was left to Elvis, including the 1968 Comeback Special – when he reinvented himself after the numbing Hollywood years. The Colonel initially suggested that the Special be crammed with cheesy Christmas songs, but he quickly let it become the revolutionary, progressive show that Elvis wanted. He also made efforts (in vain) to rein in Elvis's munificence – and his freeloading friends the Memphis Mafia.
In the end, drug addiction – or 'iatrogenic and volitional polypharmacy', as a hospital report put it – killed the King. But his admirable generosity also contributed to the lethal effect, making him desperate to keep touring to support his out-of-control spending. And the Colonel had his own reckless habit – at the Vegas casinos. So the wheel of fate creaked inexorably towards doom. Overweight and drugged to the eyeballs, the normally scrupulously polite Presley started abusing on stage his employers, the owners of the Las Vegas Hilton.
Parker told him off – the only man who could – and they nearly parted ways, as their relationship deteriorated in 1973. But the huge compensation the Colonel demanded to break their deal meant that the two would be bound inextricably until the tragic end. After one incoherent concert in 1976, Parker wrote to his wife: 'Elvis didn't even recognise me. No one knows how much I miss the real Elvis. If only I knew how to bring him back. I miss my friend so much.' And then burst into tears.
It's clear from this account that the Colonel adored Elvis – but loved money even more.