Debra Paget was extremely beautiful in her prime and charmed millions of Americans when she starred in Elvis Presley’s film debut, Love Me Tender.
The talented actress was ”touched by the hand of God,” according to legendary director Cecil B DeMille.
Apparently, even the ‘King of Rock and Roll’ became obsessed with her…
Debra Page was born on August 19, 1933, in Denver, Colorado. Her real was Dabralee Griffin – but the actress changed her name as she moved towards movie stardom.
Raised in a showbiz family, Debra’s parents moved to Los Angeles in the 1930s so that they all could be closer to developing the film industry in Hollywood. (Debra’s two sisters, Tala Loring and Lisa Gaye, also had substantial film & TV careers).
Debra, who always wanted to be a dancer, has described herself as a ”post-depression” baby. She came into the world during a devastating and prolonged economic recession. Her family didn’t have much, but Debra held her parents in high regard.
“When I looked back, we had so much love in our home,” Debra said when being interviewed by Dale Evans Rogers.
‘Most beautiful legs in the world’
Pushed by her mother, Debra enrolled in the Hollywood Professional School when she was 11.
The talented young girl landed never doubted herself, landing her first professional job aged eight. Soon after that, she starred in a production of Shakespeare’s The Merry Wives of Windsor.
Her motion picture career began at the age of 14, and her big break came in 1950 when she was cast in Broken Arrow. Co-starring alongside James Stewart, Debra Paget portrayed a Native American maiden called Sonseeahray (“Morningstar”).
Debra’s “exotic” looks won her several roles in adventure dramas, and she soon earned the reputation as the only starlet who had never been kissed.
In the 1950s, she earned the title “The most beautiful legs in the world” when the National Association of Hosiery Manufactures polled 15,000 people in the industry. The deeply religious Debra won by a wide margin, according to The Baltimore Sun.
As a 14-year-old, Debra had signed an exclusive contract with 20th Century Fox. But it was when Paramount Pictures borrowed Debra for The Ten Commandments that she made her most successful movie.
Debra played the part of Lilia, the water girl, in Cecil B. DeMille’s giant biblical, spectacular movie. The blue-eyed Debra had to wear brown contact lenses – something that caused quite some trouble for her.
“If it hadn’t been for the lenses, I wouldn’t have gotten the part. They were awful to work in because the klieg lights heated them up,” she said.
The movie, which won seven Academy Awards, changed her life forever.
”It was probably the highlight of my career, ” Debra said.
Meeting Elvis
Debra Paget was a 22-year-old established Hollywood star when she stepped onto the set of Love Me Tender. Back then, she was probably the most beautiful actress of the Hollywood Golden age. And that is saying something.
She and Elvis Presley first met months earlier when both appeared on the Milton Berle Show on June 5, 1956. It was the moment when Elvis shocked conservative America by gyrating his famous, or infamous, pelvis during his now-iconic rendition of Hound Dog.
“Although I usually don’t form an opinion of a person until I have met him,” she explained. “Frankly I looked forward to my first meeting with Elvis Presley with mixed emotions. I’d heard and read a lot about this new young singing sensation from Tennessee—and most of it was not complimentary.”
The young singer surprised Debra in many ways during their first, memorable meeting. As a born-again Christian, you might think that Debra disliked The King, but it was quite the opposite.
When Mr. Berle introduced the 21-year-old rising star to Debra, he firmly grabbed her hand and said: “I’m glad to meet you, Miss Paget.”
Elvis then shook her mother’s hand with ”equal vigor,” excused himself, and a couple of minutes later came back with a chair for her.
“We were together for only a couple of hours but sometimes you can learn more about a person in a short span of time than in weeks of seeing one another constantly. I felt I did. From the very beginning, Elvis impressed me as a pleasant, sincere, obliging young man,” Debra recalled.
The proposal
A few months later, Debra starred opposite Elvis in Love Me Tender – his first movie. According to Daily Express, the singer became obsessed with his co-star. He believed that Debra was ”the most beautiful girl he had ever seen” and even visited her parent’s house.
“From the time he first came to the house, my folks have considered Elvis a member of the Paget clan—a feeling which, I believe, he reciprocated,” Debra explained.
But Debra and Elvis’s relationship was more family-oriented than a whirlwind romance – at least in the eyes of the young actress.
“I was very shy, very quiet and very immature for my age. I was in my very early 20’s but I was emotionally more like a 16-year-old. Elvis and I just sort of came together like a couple of children really.”
Elvis, however, seems to have thought otherwise.
“Following the film, he did ask me to marry him but my parents objected to my getting married. I cared about Elvis, but being one not to disobey my parents, that did not take place,” Debra shared.
In the end, Debra turned Elvis down – she had already fallen in love with Howard Hughes, a famous film producer and billionaire.
Debra would later marry actor and singer David Street, but she always spoke fondly of Elvis. And Elvis didn’t forget Debra either – many think she did set the template for Elvis’ fixation with the ‘Debra Paget look.’ For example, it was reported that young Priscilla Beaulieu changed her hair and make-up when she learned about Debra.
Debra left the entertainment industry in 1964 and is now 89 years old. Sadly, there is not much information about her life today; Debra seems to live a quiet and private life out of the limelight.
Elvis and Joan Blackman
Interestingly, Elvis’s proposal to Debra in the late 1950s wasn’t the only time he wanted to marry a co-star. After shooting Blue Hawaii with Joan Blackman in 1961, he wanted to tie the knot with her as well – while he was dating Priscilla.
Joan Blackman, who looked very much like Priscilla, has shared what really happened during the making of Blue Hawaii.
“When we first set eyes on each other (in 1957), there was a spark, a magic in the air… There was just that special something between us, sometimes so warm and wonderful you could almost reach out and touch it,” she told the Midnight Globe newspaper in 1977.
In the sensational interview, Joan Blackman said that Elvis ”really wanted” her as his wife and that he repeatedly begged her to appear in his movies, but she turned him down each time.
“I wanted parts because of my ability, not because I was dating Elvis,” she stated.
I BURIED MY WIFE 20 YEARS AGO — YESTERDAY, SHE LITERALLY SAVED ME FROM A STROKE.
The rain hammered against the windshield, mirroring the storm raging inside me. It had been a year since the accident. A year since my wife, Emily, had vanished without a trace. The car, a mangled wreck, had been discovered at the edge of the Blackwood Forest, a chilling reminder of the day my world shattered.
The police had searched tirelessly, but to no avail. Volunteers combed the forest, their faces etched with sympathy, but their efforts yielded nothing. The prevailing theory, grim as it was, was that wild animals had taken her.
Emily’s mother, a woman of unwavering faith, had insisted on a funeral. “We need closure,” she’d said, her voice thick with grief. And so, we gathered, surrounded by the somber silence of the cemetery, to mourn a life cut tragically short.
But grief, it turned out, was a stubborn beast. It clung to me, a persistent shadow that followed me everywhere. I couldn’t escape the haunting memories – Emily’s laughter, the way she smelled of lavender, the warmth of her hand in mine.
And then, a few days ago, the unthinkable happened. I was at the local cafe, enjoying a much-needed cup of coffee, when a sudden wave of dizziness washed over me. The world tilted, the warm coffee spilling across the table. I slumped to the floor, the taste of bitter coffee and fear filling my mouth.
Panic surged through me as I struggled to breathe. Then, I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Sir, are you alright?” a concerned voice asked.
As I tried to focus, a face swam into view. It was a woman, her eyes wide with concern. “Can you pronounce this word for me?” she asked, her voice clear and calm. “Apple.”
I managed a slurred “Apple.”
“Good. Now, can you lift your right hand?”
I tried, but my arm felt heavy, unresponsive. Fear, cold and clammy, gripped me. What was happening?
Then, as my vision cleared, I saw her. Her face, pale and drawn, framed by a tangled mass of hair. The same captivating blue eyes, the same mischievous glint in their depths. And there it was, unmistakable, the crescent-shaped birthmark on the left side of her forehead.
It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be Emily.
But it was.
She looked at me, a mixture of disbelief and fear in her eyes. “Ronald?” she whispered, her voice hoarse.
The world seemed to tilt on its axis once more. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. All I could do was stare at her, at the face I thought I had lost forever.
How? How could she be alive? Where had she been all this time?
Questions swirled in my mind, a chaotic whirlwind of disbelief and joy. But one thing was certain: Emily was alive. And after a year of despair, hope had finally returned, brighter than any sunrise. The rain hammered against the windows, mirroring the storm raging inside me. It had been six months since the accident. Six months since my wife, Emily, had vanished without a trace. Her car, mangled and abandoned, had been discovered at the edge of the Blackwood Forest, a place where legends of the supernatural mingled with tales of real danger.
The police had searched tirelessly, their efforts joined by a tireless band of volunteers. But all their efforts yielded nothing. No trace of Emily. Just the mangled car, a chilling testament to the tragedy.
Emily’s mother, a woman of unwavering faith, insisted on a funeral. “We need closure,” she had said, her voice thick with grief. And so, we gathered, a small circle of mourners, to say goodbye to the woman I loved. It was a heartbreaking ceremony, a hollow echo of the life we were supposed to build together.
Life without Emily felt surreal. The house, once filled with her laughter and the clatter of her cooking, was now eerily silent. Every corner whispered her name, every familiar scent a haunting reminder of her absence. I spent my days adrift, haunted by the “what ifs,” the “if onlys.”
Then, came that fateful morning. I was at the local cafe, the rain mirroring the grey haze that had settled over my life. As I reached for my coffee, the world tilted. A wave of dizziness washed over me, and I crumpled to the floor, the hot coffee spilling across the table.
Suddenly, a pair of hands gripped my shoulders, steadying me. “Sir, are you alright?” A voice, concerned yet firm. I tried to focus, my vision blurring. Then, I saw her.
Her face, pale and drawn, was inches from mine. And there it was – the unmistakable birthmark on the left side of her forehead, a small crescent moon that I had kissed countless times.
Emily.
My breath hitched. “Emily?” I croaked, my voice hoarse.
Her eyes, wide with a mixture of shock and disbelief, met mine. “John?”
The world seemed to tilt again, this time with a dizzying sense of disbelief. How? How was she alive?
“I… I don’t understand,” I stammered, my voice trembling.
She looked around, her gaze landing on the concerned faces of the cafe patrons. “I… I can’t explain,” she whispered, her voice weak. “I woke up… somewhere. I don’t remember much. I was hurt, disoriented. I… I wandered for days.”
A flood of questions surged through me. Where had she been? What had happened? How had she survived? But before I could ask, she fainted.
As the paramedics rushed her to the hospital, I felt a surge of hope, a flicker of joy that I hadn’t felt in months. Emily was alive. She was here.
The days that followed were a whirlwind of medical tests, cautious questions, and whispered reassurances. Emily slowly regained her strength, her memory returning in fragments. She remembered the accident, the terrifying crash, the darkness that followed. She remembered waking up in a strange place, disoriented and alone, with no memory of how she got there. She had wandered for days, lost and terrified, surviving on berries and rainwater.
The mystery of her disappearance remained unsolved. The police were baffled, the medical professionals amazed. But none of that mattered anymore. All that mattered was that she was alive, that she was back in my arms.
Life after that was a slow, tentative journey back to normalcy. We faced countless questions, whispers, and curious stares. But we faced them together, hand in hand, cherishing every moment. The fear of losing her had cast a long shadow over our lives, but now, we clung to each other, determined to make the most of every precious day.
The accident had changed us, forever altering the course of our lives. But it had also taught us the true meaning of hope, the enduring power of love, and the incredible resilience of the human spirit. And as I looked at Emily, her eyes shining with a newfound appreciation for life, I knew that our love story, though interrupted, was far from over. We would face the future together, stronger than ever before, grateful for the second chance at the life we had almost lost.
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