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However, the family faced a greater dilemma that November, when the Memphis Housing Authority sent the Presleys an eviction notice and ordered them to vacate by the end of February. The reason: With a combined income of $4,133, they had exceeded the limit allowed for residents of subsidized housing.

In January 1953 they left the Courts and moved to 698 Saffarans Street, across from Humes. Three months later, they packed up again, this time landing in an apartment in a large, two-story brick home at 462 Alabama, an integrated street where they would pay $50 a month in rent, plus utilities. Minnie Mae bunked on a cot in the dining room, and Elvis slept on the sofa. The Presleys were now out of government housing, but the move to Alabama Street could not be considered upward mobility for the family in any way, as the apartment consisted of a couple of small rooms and a large kitchen. They still weren’t doing all that well financially, and the Courts were located right across the street.

In March, Elvis visited the Tennessee State Employment Security office, saying he would like to work as a machinist. The interviewer took his information, and then noted on his application that his appearance as a “rather flashily dressed playboy type [is] denied by fact [he] has worked hard past three summers [;] wants a job dealing with people.”

Elvis had never really found his place in high school, but now, in his senior year, he was about to have two powerful supporters. The first was George Klein, who he’d met in music class the year he started at Humes. They had two things in common: They were both eaten up with music, and they shared a worshipful love of radio, George hoping to make a career in it. Elvis had impressed him that first year by performing “Old Shep” and “Cold, Cold Icy Fingers” for his classmates. When Elvis raised his hand and asked permission, “There were a few laughs in the class because it just wasn’t cool in 1948 to do that in front of anyone. I was blown away because I’d never seen a kid get up and sing like that.” As they approached their senior year, George became class president and thus had some political clout. The two wouldn’t really become close until after they graduated, but George paid attention to him, and Elvis never forgot it.

His second ally was Robert Gene West, nicknamed “Red” for his carrot-colored hair, buzzed into a crew cut. An all-Memphis football star, Red was a year behind Elvis, who had quit the team almost immediately after he joined: To start with, at 145 pounds, he was too light, which made him self-conscious about school sports. Besides, he didn’t like to wear the helmet—it messed up his hair—and he needed to get an after-school job. Sometimes he didn’t have the fifteen cents for lunch, and Coach Rube Boyce would give it to him.

Red West, taut and muscular, had a reputation for being a quick man with his fists, and in the late summer–early fall of 1952, Elvis needed a little protection. While everyone else wore jeans and T-shirts, Elvis favored dress pants, and just to be different, he often wore a scarf fashioned into an ascot, like a movie star. Everything about his appearance made him a natural target.

Red had stopped at his locker to get his football gear one afternoon just after the bell rang and saw Elvis leaning against the wall. They had spoken before, but the hierarchy of high school had prevented them from becoming friends. Now Elvis could use one. Red could tell that something was up, and Elvis spilled it out: “There’s three guys outside who are going to beat me up.” Red nodded and said, “Let’s go check on it.” Outside, Red had a persuasive talk with the ringleader and all ended peacefully.

The following day, Elvis caught him after class and gave him a bashful smile. “Thanks a lot for yesterday.” Red smiled back. “Forget it, man.”

Not long after, Red walked into the boys’ bathroom and found Elvis in trouble again. Three guys had him pushed up against the wall, taunting him about his hair and threatening