He furrowed his brow and squeezed the pencil even harder, making the tips of his fingers go white. Why had he never bothered to learn the proper way to spell her name?
She was just Maggie to him, Maggie Morgan.
They’d been sweethearts since the fifth grade, steadies for almost three years now. They’d shared Cokes at the drugstore, gone to Christ Ambassadors meetings at church, he’d even told her that his greatest dream was to be a singer. But, for the life of him, he still didn’t know how to spell her real name.
Behind the counter, the clerk coughed softly to get his attention.
“Need any help there, son?”
He looked up at the man and shook his head. “No, sir, I’m good.”
“Alright, just let us know if you need anything.”
What he needed was for his family to not be moving to Memphis. He knew that filling out this marriage license was a long shot, but maybe it would show his family just how much she meant to him.
Finally, he pressed the pencil to the paper and wrote in long, looping elementary school cursive.
Then, in the other blank, his name.
Before moving to Memphis and changing music forever, Elvis Presley lived in Tupelo, MS. While in middle school there, he courted Magdalene Morgan, a fellow student and member of his church. They were forced to break up when Elvis’s family moved to Memphis. Decades later, an incomplete marriage license appeared, dated the day before Elvis moved to Memphis, and baring the King’s authentic signature. Apparently Elvis had filled it out in an act of desperation, but never got to show it to Magdalene. She learned of it when a reporter tracked her down to ask about it.