Local Treasures: Billy Strawn

How a chance discovery led to this mechanic’s lifelong association with Elvis … and his beloved cars.

by

Billy Strawn knew whose limousine was in his shop on that fateful day in 1960. In less than six years, Elvis Presley had gone from being a scrappy upstart entertainer to a national celebrity. Strawn, not yet 30 and already the general manager of the Esso station on the corner of Highway 51 South and East Raines Road, was a fan. And the year before he’d set up shop, Presley had bought Graceland, only a mile up the road. Naturally, Strawn’s station was convenient for the star and his entourage.

It was “just an old service station with two bays and three pumps out front,” Strawn recalls today. “And of course, back in those days, we used to wash cars and do it all by hand. Elvis had his Rolls-Royce limo there to be washed. They had it back in the washroom, and of course I went back there just to look at the car, like you would. I opened the back door on the right side, and I looked down at the floorboard and I saw a $100 bill laying there. And I thought it was play money, really. But then I picked it up and discovered it was a real thing.”

He pauses at the idea of it, noting, “That was a lot of money — probably worth about $1,000 now, isn’t it?” The longtime businessman, all too familiar with inflation, is only a little off: The note would now be worth $1,073. Keeping it never occurred to him. Instead, he held onto it until the next person from Graceland showed up.

“Elvis’ people who worked for him were in and out of the station two or three times a week,” Strawn recalls. “His uncle, Travis Smith, was the gate man at that time. That was his mother’s brother. Travis was in there getting gas, and I told him, ‘I found a $100 bill in Elvis’ car.’ And he said, ‘Well, you can just give it to me.’ And I said, ‘No, I ain’t gonna do that. Tell him that if he wants it, to come down here and get it.’

“A day or two later, about six o’clock one evening,” he continues. “I was out there putting a headlight in a car, and Elvis and his dad came rolling into the driveway in a new T-bird. He pulled up and got out of his car and wanted to know who found the money. Of course, I spoke up and said, ‘I did.’ And I remember him saying, ‘Honest man, honest man!’ I gave him his $100 and he gave me a little tip. After that, he brought all his cars to me.”

As described in Peter Guralnick’s masterful biography, Careless Love: The Unmaking of Elvis Presley, the year 1960 was a pivotal one in the singer’s life. The 25-year-old had only just returned to Memphis that March after being stationed for nearly two years in Friedberg, Germany, with the U.S. Army’s 3rd Armored Division. Throughout that time overseas, his star continued to rise via albums recorded earlier and released during his performing hiatus. And his wealth had increased accordingly — as had his headaches.

“Elvis was kind of like a kid. He’d get one toy and play with it a while, get tired of that, and then get something else.” — Billy Strawn

As Elvis was settling back into Graceland, Guralnick writes, “he was surrounded by friends and relatives, all dependent on him, all looking to him for help, for guidance, for handouts — for something … His uncles Travis, Johnny, and Vester, his aunt Lillian, his cousins Harold Loyd, Gene, Junior, Bobby, and Billy Smith, even his daddy, were in a state of constant contention, it sometimes seemed — Bobby using his name to pass bad checks, Daddy falling out with Travis and Vester over one thing or another, Lillian accusing Daddy of being tight with his money, one uncle getting drunk and opening the gates, inviting everyone in off the street, other relatives just taking the money he offered them without thanks, blowing it, and then coming back for more.”

Clearly, Presley did not dub someone an “honest man” lightly. And, managing his affairs in the very personal style that was his trademark, the star immediately knew who should care for his growing fleet of vehicles. Yet, as soon as Strawn says Presley thereafter “brought all his cars to me,” he corrects himself: “Actually, I went up [to Graceland] and got them. I’d go back in the jungle room and sit down and talk to Marty Lacker, or one of the other guys that worked for him, to see what he wanted done to his cars.” And with that, this honest man was thrust into a very surreal world.

Elvis in the Driver’s Seat

Upon his return to the States, Presley embarked on his movie-making years, and, to hear Strawn speak of it, the singer’s real life seemed to take on the zany flavor of Clambake. The many trips to Hollywood typically translated into a lot of automotive upkeep.

“He used to travel to California and back by automobile, and he usually had anywhere from four to five vehicles in the caravan,” recalls Strawn. “I remember he had a black Chrysler station wagon and a little two-wheel trailer, a horse trailer, and that trailer had all his clothes in it! They’d call from California to tell Elvis to be back there at a certain time, and he’d just tell the guys the afternoon before, ‘We’re leaving at four o’clock tomorrow morning!’ And of course, they jumped through their butts, trying to get everything ready.”

Meanwhile, in a different class from all the king’s men, and still just 17, the young Priscilla Beaulieu moved into Graceland in 1963, by then also the residence of Presley’s father, Vernon, and Vernon’s second wife. Priscilla often stayed there while Elvis cavorted on the sets of his movies, and, as Guralnick writes, “she felt alone and more like a child than ever. Vernon drove her to school every day.”

Her husband-to-be was making Fun in Acapulco at the time, notes Guralnick, but “he rushed back from California as soon as shooting was finished at the end of March and bought her a pretty little bright-red Corvair.” Strawn remembers that well. “He bought her a Corvair to drive back and forth to school. I remember she brought the car down to my place herself, and sat in the waiting room while we serviced it. And in fact, I saw her one day a year or two ago, and I asked her about that. I said, ‘Do you remember that red Corvair you used to have?’ She said, ‘Yeah. But I don’t remember whatever happened to it.’ It’s probably somewhere …”

By then, the King was used to customizing his fleet. Guralnick notes that his Cadillac limousine had “two telephones, an entertainment console, a refreshment bar, and a little electric shoe buffer.” And, as Strawn relates, he had the same attitude toward his much bulkier ride as well, possibly inventing a convenience we take for granted today.

“He also had a little RV motor home, and Elvis did a lot of the driving himself. Back in those days, the [high/low-beam headlight] dimmer switch was in the floorboard, and he didn’t like that. He wanted the switch up where he could work it with his hands. So I guess we invented the dimmer at the steering wheel, because now every car today has it in the turn-signal lever.”

Things were getting weird at Graceland, but Strawn wasn’t fazed. “They had this monkey; I think its name was Scatter. And he used to transfer that thing back and forth to California when they went by caravan.” A monkey bouncing around in an RV with Presley at the wheel has all the makings of one of his screwball comedies, sadly never made.

Then there was the matter of the peafowl. “Some of his cars sat out in front of the place, like the pink Cadillac he’d given his mother. He also let his Rolls-Royce limo sit out there, and he had some peacocks running around on the grounds. Those peacocks would walk by that black, shiny Rolls-Royce and see themselves in it, and they’d jump up and scratch it. I tell you, I’d have been killing me some peacocks.”

Strawn comments, “Elvis was kind of like a kid. He’d get one toy and play with it a while, get tired of that, and then get something else. I remember, back in the ’60s, slot-car tracks were popular. He set up a place where he could play those slot cars. He even had a fountain in there with Pepsi. They’d go on like that for a while, and then he’d come up with something else, you know? Later, when he bought a ranch down in Mississippi, he bought all the guys that worked for him pickup trucks.”

All the king’s toys kept Strawn busy, but he embraced his role in the Elvis universe without much thought, even when it came to money matters. “I remember one night,” he says. “when Elvis, Joe Esposito, Marty Lacker, and all those guys that worked for him were out partying, and they ran out of money, and he called at two o’clock in the morning to ask if I’d cash a check. And I did! I used to cash all the payroll checks and stuff. But I didn’t think that much about it. I never did take any pictures of anything. Of course, I could have had a lot of things if I’d have just thought about it, but I looked at him like everybody else, you know. I’d go up there to Graceland and go in the front door and walk out the back, with no one paying attention to me.”

Something with a Steering Wheel

Being the mechanic of a celebrity was certainly not on Strawn’s bingo card when he left his hometown of McGehee, Arkansas, a decade earlier. “I was raised on a farm, back in the sticks. I used to chop cotton, all that kind of work,” he says, and even at the age of 10, “I always wanted to get into something with a steering wheel.” When trucks lined up at the cotton gin to unload the harvest, he’d jump in the cabs. “I guess I started driving when I was about 11 or12 years old. I started so young I had to sit on a pillow.”

By his late teens, he’d met Norma Bridges, who soon became his wife; she passed away last fall, after the two spent 70 years together. The same year they were married, they moved to Memphis and went on to raise two children.

Since 1958, he’s plied his trade from essentially the same small stretch of what’s now Elvis Presley Boulevard, first at Raines Road, and now about a block to the south. Through that time, he’s seen a lot of changes in combustion engines. “When I started, they had what they call points and condensers and a carburetor. And to tune one up, you replaced the points and condenser and spark plugs and adjusted the carburetor. That was it. But now it ain’t nothing like that. They’re computerized and you have to have a technician who’s familiar with that.”

While he doesn’t specialize in vintage cars, he does know his way around them, and that led to his encounter with another singer later in life. Dale Watson, the country rocker who hails from Texas, relocated to Memphis for a time, and was perhaps the perfect customer to hear about Strawn’s association with the King.

“Dale had an antique car, a ’56 Ford or something, that had a transmission problem,” says Strawn. “So I worked on his car, and got to know him, and he found out that I had worked on Elvis’ cars, and he was interested in that.” In fact, Watson was moved to write the song “Billy Strawn” about the man himself. Released on 2023’s Starvation Box album, the tune captures the magic of one of Strawn’s most treasured moments:

Elvis said, “Who found my money?”

Billy said, “I did” with his growl

Elvis said, “Honest man, honest man”

Billy Strawn, honest man, honest man

Billy Strawn, Billy Strawn

…

Now Billy’s still around

Though Elvis, he is gone

Billy’s still the trusted man

That the king depended on.

Now what would Elvis do

If he needed his car working?

Call honest man, honest man

Billy Strawn

Honest man, honest man

Billy Strawn, Billy Strawn

Strawn, now 91, serviced Presley’s cars even after the singer’s death and through the time that Vernon managed Graceland. Those years continue to loom large in his memories.

“I was a fan, and I’m still a fan. It’s a shame that he didn’t live any longer than he did. You know, 42 years old — to me, that’s just growing good.”