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Home > Newspaper Articles > 1971 > November 6 1971. Cleveland OH.

The lights went down. The music began to build up. "I can't stand it," cried a middle-aged mama in the front row of Public Hall yesterday afternoon.

And suddenly Elvis Presley was there, like a black tornado. He whirled on stage in a black jumpsuit threaded with gold and a red-lined cape, grabbed a guitar from a backup man and started singing the song that started it all 17 years ago, "That's All Right."

It sure was.
Sixteen songs and 60 minutes later the man who put the roll into the rock, the man who has sold more records than anyone in the history of recorded sound, was still the king.

"ALL RIGHT? HE'S BETTER than ever!" cried Mrs. Richard C. Wood of Akron, who was just eight when Presley first hit.

Presley's hair was blacker and longer, the duck-tail gone. His face was paler, and had the start of a double chin under the long jawline. He's 36.

But a new note had been added. A humorous touch, a light hearted spoofing of his whole rhythm role.

Suddenly, in the midst of his "Heartbreak Hotel" he substituted the word "sweaty" for "lonely" in "I'm so longly I could die."

Then he wiped his brow with his red scarf and tossed it downstage.

He introduced the superb J. D. Sumner Stamp Quartet, pointed to the 18-member group playing behind him and said, "The orchestra is the Cleveland Browns."

SCREAMS FOLLOWED AS he sauntered to left stage, then suddenly shifted to the right and stooped to kiss a crippled child held up on stage.

"I wanna come out there to you, but he won't let me," Presley teased, pointing his right hand with rings sparkling at three fingers at a hefty policeman.

Almost 10,000 women signed in unison
The hall was packed, a sellout both shows, and cries reached the rafters at times. But they were more from 30-40 year old women than turned on teens. Practically the only black people there were ushers.

Presley scored with his golden oldies - "Love Me Tender," "You Don't Have To Say You Love Me," "Can't Help Falling In Love" "Hound Dog," "Blue Suede Shoes," "Blue Hawaii," "Lawdy Miss Clawdy."

And then came the highlight, the newer "Bridge Over Troubled Water," a beautiful, poignant thing. The Sweet Inspirations, who had led off the show, joined in, and for a few golden moments all generations were bridged.

THE SUGGESTIVE SHAKING that labeled him as "Elvis the Pelvis" and made Ed Sullivan show him only from the waist up on TV, was still there. He jerked his left leg, he pointed his guitar like a machine gun, he vibrated like a gong. Even grandmas screamed, but somehow I felt it was a little dated and maybe as carnal as cornflakes.

Comedian Jackie Kuhane got a surprisingly big hand, considering everyone was waiting for Elvis. His talk about middle-aggers in orthopedic hot pants hit home.

Only minority reports heard by this reporter came from Miss Ulstine Ulis of Mentor who felt that Presley's black outfit was too hard to see from back in the hall and from Plain Dealer photographer Robert E. Dorksen. Dorksen was barred by Presley press man Jerry Weintraub from taking pictures at the front or side of the stage.

Courtesy of Sebastiano Cecere