Elvis @ Memorial Coliseum 1956

Elvis @ Memorial Coliseum 1956





Tickets were $1.50. Teenagers drank Coca-Cola and ate popcorn. And the girls screamed.

And screamed. And screamed.

Until a 21-year-old Elvis Presley walked on stage and waved his hand, silencing the 6,000 teenagers and parents crammed into Memorial Coliseum.

Then, the girls screamed some more.

April 16, 1956, was the event of a lifetime for many, and for the coliseum.

Tom Woolsey, now of McAllen, was one of 1,000 who couldn’t get tickets and agonized outside the coliseum. Dejected, he walked back to his 1951 Ford parked behind the building.

“Suddenly the sound of pandemonium like a prison riot in the movies raised the roof off the coliseum,” Woolsey said. “The cops guarding the stage doors on the rear wall all ran inside. I followed them in. No one was near me. Elvis and the chaos had the backstage people distracted big time.”

He walked over to the edge of the stage between the curtain and wall — and ended up with one of the best seats in the house.

“Elvis had just started with ‘Hound Dog,’ complete with bumps and grinds,” Woolsey said. “I couldn’t understand a word for the unbelievable noise. A spectacle to my 18-year-old eyes were all those girls right down in front of me crying, chewing their hair, pulling it, holding their heads in their hands, standing on chairs and screaming. Stark-raving looney-tunes bawling and screaming.”

Woolsey stood there alone and watched the whole show. “Elvis went off on the other side and I left the way I came in, except for the police escort.”

Those who were teenagers at the time, like former Mayor Henry Garrett, remember it was years before any rock ’n’ roll acts returned to Corpus Christi. There were rumors an incensed City Council passed a resolution against rock shows, but Garrett said he could not find the resolution after he was elected mayor in 2005.

“I looked for it,” he said. “I wanted to make sure that didn’t exist anymore because that’s ludicrous.”

Caller-Times archives show the coliseum manager at the time, Tom Davis, apologized for the concert — the most successful show in the coliseum’s short history — and pledged not to book any more rock ’n’ roll shows. He told the paper he received complaints from parents and teenagers that the show was vulgar and that it and others like it contributed to juvenile delinquency.

“I do not want the auditorium or coliseum to be used for that sort of thing,” Davis said at the time.

Thirty years later, Davis told the newspaper that reports of a rock ’n’ roll ban were exaggerated. The jokes of opening act The Farmer Boys were the truly vulgar part of the show, he said.

The Caller-Times reported that two police officials “went backstage and ordered a halt to that type of exhibition and had no more problems.

“I had no complaints about his gyrations, all his hip wiggling,” Davis told the paper in 1985. “It was one of the most successful concerts.”

Exaggerated or not, Davis’ edict prompted a number of letters to the editor of the Caller-Times defending Elvis and his teenage fans.

“As to the violence and mayhem, the nearest thing I saw to violence was when a police car which was parked on the grass ran into a small fence and then tore up some guy wires to a palm tree,” read one letter. “Please don’t blame this on teenagers.”

Garrett said several teenagers from that concert grew up to become lawyers and doctors — contrary to adults’ worries of debauchery.

“I grew up to be the police chief and the mayor,” Garrett said. “It didn’t ruin us. We were able to go on and finish our school and enjoy life. I think this was one of those times that the adults misread what was going on with this type of music.”

For Garrett, the memories of 1956 actually are of a much more innocent time.

“You drank Coca-Cola and ate popcorn and you didn’t do the kind of things they do now during concerts,” he said.

Garrett bought two tickets with his own money, but his girlfriend (later his wife) Nancy’s parents wouldn’t let her attend. He asked another girl, also named Nancy, to go with him.

“Of course my wife, until the day she passed away she reminded me of that, that I took a different girl to the concert,” Garrett said.

Judy Wise Cullen, who was 13 at the time, and her then-11-year-old sister, Trula “Squeaky” Walker, were among the lucky ones whose mother not only approved but also took them to the concert.

“It was phenomenal that anyone of that stature would come to Corpus Christi,” said Cullen, still a Corpus Christi resident. “It’s a given fact even today we’re out of the way. We were really out of the way then.”

That year, Margo Rogers, then Margo Anderson, was a Ray High School senior who had met Elvis two years earlier at his first, lesser-known show in Corpus Christi. He had played at Nelson’s Hoedown on Lexington, now South Padre Island Drive. Their parents had mutual friends, and the two began a long-distance romance.

The teenager arrived early for the coliseum show and waited in the wings backstage with her best friend.

“Elvis was doing a sound check, and he yelled across the stage for me to move over to the other side,” Rogers recalled. “Not used to being ordered around, I didn’t do it. When the show started, he came to the wings, took me by the hand and walked me across the stage in front of the whole coliseum. But I was all dressed up so it was OK.”

Rogers remembers exactly what she was wearing that day — a pencil skirt sheath dress with a subdued floral print and matching coat. She wore high heels and had her hair piled on her head.

“It was a nice walk,” Rogers said. “I was showing off. The whole coliseum just started yelling and stomping. I had so many friends there, all the people I went to high school with.”

It would be five months before Elvis made his infamous appearance on the “Ed Sullivan Show,” skyrocketing his career. But the King was already on his way up when he performed in the coliseum.

Elvis had been playing to sold-out shows of screaming teenagers. The night before the coliseum show, he was mobbed by 3,000 screaming teenagers. No one was hurt, but a 17-year-old girl fainted during the rush.

The book “Elvis in Texas” contains an unattributed reference to Elvis hitchhiking to the coliseum the next day. He apparently forgot to stop for gas.

Rogers dismissed the story as myth.

“He never traveled alone,” she said. “If he was going to hitchhike it would be someone in his party.”

Robert Harris and Pat Stewart, then Pat Whatley, along with Garrett, were Ray High School sophomores at the time — two years younger than Rogers.

“I hadn’t really heard that much about Elvis Presley, and I remember when we went to see him I didn’t think he was particularly wonderful,” Harris said. “I don’t remember what songs he sang. The thing I remember the most is all the squealing girls.”

Stewart also remembers the concert being the event to see. “It was like everybody else was going so you need to go,” she said. “My father would have never approved of my going. That secret that I attended went to his grave.”

Her mother allowed her to go with another mother and two friends. She remembers the screaming and jumping was contagious, but she was shorter than the others around her and didn’t see much of the singer.

“I don’t think I remember much of what was going on because there was so much loud screaming of girls,” Stewart said. “I only saw a glimpse of Elvis.”


Tickets were $1.50. Teenagers drank Coca-Cola and ate popcorn. And the girls screamed.
And screamed. And screamed.
Until a 21-year-old Elvis Presley walked on stage and waved his hand, silencing the 6,000 teenagers and parents crammed into Memorial Coliseum.

Then, the girls screamed some more.

April 16, 1956, was the event of a lifetime for many, and for the coliseum.

Tom Woolsey, now of McAllen, was one of 1,000 who couldn’t get tickets and agonized outside the coliseum. Dejected, he walked back to his 1951 Ford parked behind the building.

“Suddenly the sound of pandemonium like a prison riot in the movies raised the roof off the coliseum,” Woolsey said. “The cops guarding the stage doors on the rear wall all ran inside. I followed them in. No one was near me. Elvis and the chaos had the backstage people distracted big time.”

He walked over to the edge of the stage between the curtain and wall — and ended up with one of the best seats in the house.
“Elvis had just started with ‘Hound Dog,’ complete with bumps and grinds,” Woolsey said. “I couldn’t understand a word for the unbelievable noise. A spectacle to my 18-year-old eyes were all those girls right down in front of me crying, chewing their hair, pulling it, holding their heads in their hands, standing on chairs and screaming. Stark-raving looney-tunes bawling and screaming.”
Woolsey stood there alone and watched the whole show. “Elvis went off on the other side and I left the way I came in, except for the police escort.”

Those who were teenagers at the time, like former Mayor Henry Garrett, remember it was years before any rock ’n’ roll acts returned to Corpus Christi. There were rumors an incensed City Council passed a resolution against rock shows, but Garrett said he could not find the resolution after he was elected mayor in 2005.
“I looked for it,” he said. “I wanted to make sure that didn’t exist anymore because that’s ludicrous.”
Caller-Times archives show the coliseum manager at the time, Tom Davis, apologized for the concert — the most successful show in the coliseum’s short history — and pledged not to book any more rock ’n’ roll shows. He told the paper he received complaints from parents and teenagers that the show was vulgar and that it and others like it contributed to juvenile delinquency.

“I do not want the auditorium or coliseum to be used for that sort of thing,” Davis said at the time.
Thirty years later, Davis told the newspaper that reports of a rock ’n’ roll ban were exaggerated. The jokes of opening act The Farmer Boys were the truly vulgar part of the show, he said.Two police officials “went backstage and ordered a halt to that type of exhibition and had no more problems.

“I had no complaints about his gyrations, all his hip wiggling,” Davis said in 1985. “It was one of the most successful concerts.” Exaggerated or not, Davis’ edict prompted a number of letters to the editor of the Caller-Times defending Elvis and his teenage fans.
“As to the violence and mayhem, the nearest thing I saw to violence was when a police car which was parked on the grass ran into a small fence and then tore up some guy wires to a palm tree,” read one letter. “Please don’t blame this on teenagers.”
Garrett said several teenagers from that concert grew up to become lawyers and doctors — contrary to adults’ worries of debauchery.
“I grew up to be the police chief and the mayor,” Garrett said. “It didn’t ruin us. We were able to go on and finish our school and enjoy life. I think this was one of those times that the adults misread what was going on with this type of music.”
For Garrett, the memories of 1956 actually are of a much more innocent time.
“You drank Coca-Cola and ate popcorn and you didn’t do the kind of things they do now during concerts,” he said.
Garrett bought two tickets with his own money, but his girlfriend (later his wife) Nancy’s parents wouldn’t let her attend. He asked another girl, also named Nancy, to go with him.
“Of course my wife, until the day she passed away she reminded me of that, that I took a different girl to the concert,” Garrett said.
Judy Wise Cullen, who was 13 at the time, and her then-11-year-old sister, Trula “Squeaky” Walker, were among the lucky ones whose mother not only approved but also took them to the concert.
“It was phenomenal that anyone of that stature would come to Corpus Christi,” said Cullen, still a Corpus Christi resident. “It’s a given fact even today we’re out of the way. We were really out of the way then.”
That year, Margo Rogers, then Margo Anderson, was a Ray High School senior who had met Elvis two years earlier at his first, lesser-known show in Corpus Christi. He had played at Nelson’s Hoedown on Lexington, now South Padre Island Drive. Their parents had mutual friends, and the two began a long-distance romance.
The teenager arrived early for the coliseum show and waited in the wings backstage with her best friend.
“Elvis was doing a sound check, and he yelled across the stage for me to move over to the other side,” Rogers recalled. “Not used to being ordered around, I didn’t do it. When the show started, he came to the wings, took me by the hand and walked me across the stage in front of the whole coliseum. But I was all dressed up so it was OK.”
Rogers remembers exactly what she was wearing that day — a pencil skirt sheath dress with a subdued floral print and matching coat. She wore high heels and had her hair piled on her head.
“It was a nice walk,” Rogers said. “I was showing off. The whole coliseum just started yelling and stomping. I had so many friends there, all the people I went to high school with.”
It would be five months before Elvis made his infamous appearance on the “Ed Sullivan Show,” skyrocketing his career. But the King was already on his way up when he performed in the coliseum.
Elvis had been playing to sold-out shows of screaming teenagers. The night before the coliseum show, he was mobbed by 3,000 screaming teenagers. No one was hurt, but a 17-year-old girl fainted during the rush.
The book “Elvis in Texas” contains an unattributed reference to Elvis hitchhiking to the coliseum the next day. He apparently forgot to stop for gas.
Rogers dismissed the story as myth.
“He never traveled alone,” she said. “If he was going to hitchhike it would be someone in his party.”
Robert Harris and Pat Stewart, then Pat Whatley, along with Garrett, were Ray High School sophomores at the time — two years younger than Rogers.
“I hadn’t really heard that much about Elvis Presley, and I remember when we went to see him I didn’t think he was particularly wonderful,” Harris said. “I don’t remember what songs he sang. The thing I remember the most is all the squealing girls.”
Stewart also remembers the concert being the event to see. “It was like everybody else was going so you need to go,” she said. “My father would have never approved of my going. That secret that I attended went to his grave.”
Her mother allowed her to go with another mother and two friends. She remembers the screaming and jumping was contagious, but she was shorter than the others around her and didn’t see much of the singer.
“I don’t think I remember much of what was going on because there was so much loud screaming of girls,” Stewart said. “I only saw a glimpse of Elvis.”


Source: Elvis Unlimited, 28.06.2010