How did one of the greatest modern American symbols — an original, a creator of standards — come to such a tragic end? Was Presley's fate inherent in his nature? Was it part of his message? Did it have something to do with America? Or was it one of those random combinations of carelessness, greed, egotism and blindness to manipulation?

Whether this process is indeed fated by the nature of talent or the nature of success, or whether this is the nature of American success — or all these things — is what this excerpt from Mr. Goldman's book is about. — Jann S. Wenner

When Elvis Presley returned to America after his years in the army, he was a changed man. His mother's death, his father's remarriage, his own sufferings in the service, as well as the prolonged interruption of his career and his anxiety about its revival, had eroded the great self-confidence he displayed in his early years. Instead of partying with his peers, the young actors and actresses of the Jimmy Dean clique, Elvis locks himself up now in a house with six stooges and never goes out to play. Instead of falling in love with a beautiful film star, he herds hundreds of anonymous groupies through his bedroom. Instead of being basically a sympathetic character with some ugly traits, he becomes an arrogant punk who closely resembles the character he portrayed in Jailhouse Rock. As for his career, he abandons all control over it and submits himself completely to the machinations of Colonel Tom Parker and his cronies in Hollywood. All these things attest to a profound metamorphosis in the character of Elvis Presley. Though they first become manifest when he is discharged from the service, we must search for their source in that deadly wound Elvis suffered when his mother died on August 14th, 1958.

Gladys was as much the source of Elvis' self-confidence as she was the cause of his extreme dependency. She was also his only confidant and his moral governor. Once Gladys died, Elvis found himself desperately alone and naked. His first instinct was to retreat from the world and wall himself round with people who were devoted to him, body and soul. "The Guys," as Elvis called his henchmen, included at this time Red and Sonny West, Joe Esposito, Lamar Fike, Alan Fortas and Gene Smith. His second impulse was to drown his sorrows in an endless round of parties and games that would keep him perpetually distracted from his real state of mind. His ultimate resolution was the most fateful: it was to sever the link between his past and present by totally inverting the relations between his life and his image. Instead of being an innocent and naive kid who impersonated publicly a wild and orgiastic figure, Elvis would now play in public the all-American boy, while off camera he indulged himself in an endless debauch of sex and drugs.

The inception of Elvis' new lifestyle was a two-week furlough that he took in the summer of 1959 in Paris with several of his boys. Settling down at the posh Hotel Prince de Galles, he swiftly discovered an old-rime nightclub on the Champs-Elysees called the Lido, which had a chorus line bearing the legendary title the Bluebelle Girls; in other words, the descendants of those turn-of-the-century chorus girls who had swarmed over the Prince de Galles or Prince of Wales, the future Edward VII. Elvis, wearing for the first time his elegant dress blues and looking like a latter-day version of the Student Prince, instinctively fell into the pattern of his renowned and royal predecessor. Every night he ate dinner at the club; then, after the first show, he swept up the entire chorus line and carried it back to his hotel, where they partied extravagantly, until the phone would ring and the manager of the club would beg Elvis to return the girls so that the supper show could commence. Elvis would witness that show as well and afterward return to his suite with the girls, with whom he toyed till dawn.

When Elvis returned to Hollywood, he showed no sign at first of adopting this orgiastic pattern so close to home. He was still a little inhibited, still exhibiting traces of his mother's morality. Then, one night, a random occurrence initiated a chain of events that concluded with Elvis finding himself once again in a position to indulge his appetite for orgiastic parties. The decisive event was being asked to leave the Beverly Wilshire Hotel for precisely the same reason that had led to Elvis' expulsions from hotels in Germany: extreme rowdiness.

On this particular night Elvis and the Guys were involved in one of those childish games in which he spent so much of his spare time in the early years: a water battle with squirt guns. What made the battle characteristic of Elvis was the violence with which he drove it, that innate violence that always made him take everything to the limits and beyond, never feeling that he had had enough until limbs broke and blood flowed and screams of pain accompanied the pleasure.

First, one of the boys had slipped on the wet kitchen floor and gashed himself deeply on a broken bottle. Then, Red, Joe and Sonny grabbed Elvis and threw him on the floor. As Sonny held Elvis' legs and Joe his midriff, Red rubbed his palm back and forth over Elvis' nose, driving him completely crazy. When he had brought Elvis to the ultimate peak of rage, Red shouted, "Let go!" At that moment, Red and Sunny leaped up and ran for their lives. Joe, seeking to do the same, slipped and fell on the floor. Instantly, Elvis was on top of him, kicking him like a log as he rolled across the floor. Then, Elvis seized a guitar and, swinging it like an ax, hit Joe a stunning blow on the elbow. Joe screamed in pain and lay there watching his arm inflate like a balloon. Red and Sonny, who had circled back, realized now that the fight had gotten out hand, They made a dash through a fire-escape door and took off down the hall with Elvis in hot pursuit. When Elvis saw he couldn't catch up, he threw the guitar with all his might after the fleeing figures.

At that moment, an elderly lady who lived on the floor opened her door. Just as she was about to step out into the hall — whoosh! — a guitar flew by her nose, almost hitting her. Jumping back, she slammed the door and picked up the phone to call the manager. A few minutes later, this worthy was upstairs demanding to know what was going on and inspecting with a horror-struck countenance the damage to the rooms. Next day, Elvis and his boys were asked to leave.