The year is 1958. The place is New Orleans. The French Quarter to be more precise. It’s an early March morning and the always bustling, colorful streets are empty. The sun is shining and bright from the east. Puddles of water remain due to a storm that rumbled over the night before. The humidity in the morning air suffocates. Royal Street, Chartes Street, and Bourbon Street are peaceful and undisturbed.

If you’ve ever visited the French Quarter, you know this is out of the ordinary.

“CRAWFISH!”

“BERRIES!”

“GUMBO!”

“CRAWFISH!”

“BERRIES!”

“GUMBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

A chorus of vendors walking and singing in the streets disturb the silence. They carry berries, gumbo, and crawfish all fresh and ready for sale. Each promotes what they’re peddling with a smile, some rhythm, and a tune. A young woman selling crawfish guides a horse drawn wagon down Royal Street. Her melodious voice echos into the silent New Orleans morning, “CRAWWWWWFISH! CRAWWWWWFISH!”

A young man in his apartment has his window open. He’s putting on a shirt, preparing for another day in The Crescent City. He hears her voice as she passes by on the wagon. He comes to the window to get a better look. Before long, he’s out on the deck singing with her in unison.

“CRAWWWWWFISH!”

“CRAWWWWWFISH!”

It’s a swell morning in New Orleans.

The year is 1950. The place is New Orleans. The French Quarter to be more precise. It’s a late April evening and the streets are bustling with activity. The sun has set and the night darkens the cobblestone streets. A storm is coming soon. The humidity in the evening air suffocates. Royal Street, Chartes Street, and Bourbon Street are clamoring for attention.

Bobby Dan Banks and his wife arrive at the The Cornstalk Hotel on Royal Street. Weary from the long miles on the road, they planned to relax tonight. Five years from now Jack Kerouac would write, “Nothing behind me, everything ahead of me, as is ever so on the road.” Bobby Dan and his wife had the highway miles behind them and a semi-comfortable hotel bed ahead of them. It’s all they knew at the moment.

Bobby Dan took a book out of his suitcase and set it on the bed stand to read. Mrs. Banks sat down at the desk in the hotel room and pulled a postcard out of her purse. They’d bought it at one of the souvenir shops. When she saw the postcard, she thought it perfect for their friends James and Mary Lou Heim back in Texas. The colorful depiction of the steamboat S. S. President on the mighty Mississippi River made a great focal point. The Banks had plans to take the river cruise early the next morning.

“We got here this P.M. and are having a swell time. We stopped at Natchitoches last nite, saw that town, Baton Rouge, and millions of miles of road today.”

Millions of miles of road. Mrs. Banks can weave a story or two on a postcard.

“We are going to ride the ‘President’ (see other side) tomorrow. Tell everyone ‘hello’ for us and we’ll see you soon. — Mr. & Mrs. Bobby Dan Banks — P.S. Thanks for being so swell.”

Indeed everything was swell that evening for the Banks’s in New Orleans. The sounds of cars, horses, and jazz collided with the smell of cajun food, smoke, and alcohol. It was like most nights in the French Quarter.

The next morning the Banks’s prepared for their riverboat cruise on the Mississippi River. On their way to the dock, Mrs. Banks paused a moment at a post office drop box and sent her postcard to the Heim’s.

A cloud of dense fog slept on the Mississippi River. A bit of a chill was present that April morning. Once purchasing their tickets, the Bank’s got in the line forming on the dock. They were ready for their morning river cruise. Once the passengers had boarded and the crew was ready, the President drifted from from the dock.

A few people were standing on the dock that morning, as the steamboat drifted further away. As it drifted, the fog began to swallow the S. S. President until the boat disappeared.

A cloud of dense fog slept on the Mississippi River that quiet morning in 1958. A bit of a chill was present on that March morning. Once its passengers were aboard, the steamboat S. S. President set out onto the river like it did most days. It slowly and quietly disappeared into the fog.

A small crowd of people stood on the deck watching — and filming — as the steamboat drifted further away. It would only be a moment more. One moment more. It had to be completely hidden from view before they could stop. One moment more and it would be gone.

“AND CUT!”

Movie director Michael Curtiz had the scene he needed for the opening credits. It was time to move onto the next scenes, they only had a little over a week to get everything shot. The star of the movie, Elvis Presley wasn’t around. He was sleeping in that morning in his room at The Cornstalk Hotel on Royal Street.

If the sequence of events at the beginning of the story seemed familiar, there may be a reason why.

Those empty streets and vendors breaking the silence in a chorus of song? Staged and shot for the movie King Creole.

The young woman on the horse drawn wagon? Jazz singer Kitty White.

The young man coming out onto his deck to join in? The king of rock and roll, Elvis Presley.

WATCH: King Creole opening credits. Featuring Elvis Presley singing ‘Crawfish,’ and the President drifting into the foggy morning. The steamboat was renamed ‘New Orleans’ by Curitz for the movie.