Elvis Never Missed Her Opening Night Roses — Until One Night in 1977
For more than a decade, Ann-Margret received the same mysterious backstage surprise whenever she opened a new show: red roses, carefully arranged in the shape of a guitar.
Not once.
Not twice.
But year after year.
The gesture continued long after the world believed her relationship with Elvis Presley had disappeared into the past. By then, Elvis was married to Priscilla. Ann-Margret had married actor Roger Smith. Their lives had moved in different directions, and publicly, the romance that had surrounded them during the filming of Viva Las Vegas seemed like ancient history.
But somehow, the roses kept coming.
And then, in August 1977, they suddenly stopped.
There was only one reason.
Elvis Presley was gone.
The story began in 1963, when 28-year-old Elvis met 22-year-old Ann-Margret on the set of Viva Las Vegas. What happened between them quickly became one of Hollywood’s most talked-about romances. Their chemistry was impossible to ignore. Both were talented dancers, both possessed enormous charisma, and on screen they seemed almost perfectly matched.
But according to accounts from people close to Elvis, their connection didn’t simply disappear when filming ended.
Jerry Schilling later recalled seeing Ann-Margret arrive at Elvis’s California home using her own key. Marty Lacker also described coded names allegedly used when she contacted Elvis. Meanwhile, Priscilla Presley later wrote about discovering the relationship and described her emotional reaction in her memoir Elvis and Me.
Yet the most fascinating part of the story may have happened years later.
In 1967, Elvis married Priscilla. Just seven days later, Ann-Margret married Roger Smith. On paper, that should have been the final chapter.
But according to Ann-Margret’s own memoir, My Story, Elvis continued sending her something deeply personal throughout the 1970s.
Red roses shaped like a guitar.
Every opening night.
Think about that.
This wasn’t necessarily a dramatic declaration of love. It wasn’t a public appearance or a headline-making reunion. It was something far quieter—and perhaps far more revealing.
Someone had to remember her performance schedule. Someone had to contact a florist. Someone had to arrange the roses into a guitar. Someone had to make sure they arrived backstage before the curtain went up.
And then it had to happen again.
And again.
And again.
For years.
The gesture reportedly continued for approximately 13 years, until one particular Las Vegas opening in August 1977.
The roses never arrived.
Elvis had died on August 16, 1977.
Suddenly, the missing flowers carried a meaning that no grand romantic gesture ever could.
The tradition hadn’t ended because Elvis had forgotten her.
It hadn’t ended because their friendship had disappeared.
It ended because there was no longer an Elvis Presley who could send them.
That detail makes this story so haunting.
Ann-Margret herself has repeatedly rejected one of the biggest rumors surrounding their relationship: she has said they were never engaged. She has also been cautious about turning their past into something more sensational than it was.
Perhaps that’s exactly why the roses are so powerful.
They don’t necessarily prove that Elvis secretly wanted to rekindle a romance. They don’t prove that the two were secretly together throughout the 1970s. What they do reveal is something much simpler—and arguably more meaningful.
He remembered her.
Even after marriages, careers, distance and years had transformed both of their lives, he remembered the nights that mattered to her.
And when Elvis died, Ann-Margret reportedly went to his funeral despite advice that her presence would attract enormous attention.
After everything they had shared, perhaps the roses had become their own private language—a tradition that needed no explanation.
Hollywood remembers Elvis Presley as the King of Rock and Roll: the leather suits, the screaming crowds, the sold-out shows, the legendary performances.
But sometimes the most revealing stories about a person aren’t found on stage.
They’re found backstage.
In a bouquet of red roses.
In the shape of a guitar.
And in the devastating moment when, after more than a decade of never missing a single opening night, the flowers suddenly stopped coming.
