Posted on 08/16/2002 2:35:16 AM PDT by MeekOneGOP
Celebrating Elvis' life
25th anniversary of the King's death is mostly parties, parades
08/16/2002
MEMPHIS, Tenn. - Death anniversaries tend to be somber affairs, as we remember those we loved and admired.
There's no parade in Dallas on Nov. 22. Ceremonies in New York on the day John Lennon was killed, or here in Memphis on the anniversary of the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.'s assassination, are tearful and melancholy.
In the land of Elvis, things are different.
"Sure, it's sad that he's gone," says Fred Chamberlain, a 39-year-old fan. "But we're treating this as a happy occasion. As time goes on, we look at it differently. This is a way of projecting all the happiness he left for us."
Mr. Chamberlain seems to be a good representative of the tens of thousands of people packed into Memphis this week to mark the 25th anniversary of Elvis Presley's death on Aug. 16, 1977. He's come a long way (from London) at considerable personal sacrifice (he's a school caretaker of modest income) and has gone to lengths that probably seem excessive to nonbelievers (a big Elvis tattoo has adorned his arm since age 16).
Moreover, he and Samantha got married Tuesday at the Chapel in the Woods, a small building adjacent to Elvis' Graceland home that is part of the Presley estate. They already have a 2 ½ -year-old daughter named Presley Shelby (that's the county that includes Memphis).
"Everything has been perfect, a dream come true," says the new Mrs. Chamberlain, who's 27.
"Elvis Week is the week to be here," her husband declares.
Actually, it's more like nine days, from a parade last Saturday down Beale Street featuring floats, politicians and hound dogs to a set of closing concerts on Sunday. The list of festivities especially long this year because of the 25th anniversary includes seminars, autograph sessions, an Elvis fashion show, an Elvis furniture exhibition and lots of parties.
There is all the kitsch that cynics love to mock. Fake Elvii sporting sideburns, big hair and cheesy jumpsuits mix with white-haired grandmas wearing buttons that won't stop flashing. Nobody seems able to resist slurring "Thankyaverymuch."
HELEN JAU / DMN |
But the crowds are cheerful, their emotions are genuine and the mix of ages and ethnicities is downright inspiring. "Look at these smiles," says Endre Samu, a 43-year-old Elvis impersonator excuse me, make that Elvis Tribute Artist striding down Beale Street in full Elvis regalia, dispensing handshakes and kisses.
Mr. Samu is an official at the Limon Correctional Facility in Colorado who performs in his spare time. Inmates, he says, help him make his outfits.
"Sure, some people make fun of this," he says. "But Elvis was all about spreading love and affection to all races, creeds and colors. For the love of his memory, I help spread that message. Just because Elvis has died, why should that message ever die?"
The main event is undeniably sad. On Thursday night, thousands of faithful lined up outside Graceland for what's known as "the vigil," a candlelight procession past Elvis' grave that will last well into Friday morning. The route is lined with scores of floral tributes, signs and decorations sent from fan clubs around the world.
HELEN JAU / DMN |
Nobody jokes about the vigil. "You'd better not goof around in line," says Ray Macinanti, 47, of Tewksbury, Mass. "But the rest of the week is so much fun. It's a celebration of Elvis' life."
In the land of Elvis, that juxtaposition makes perfect sense. No matter what the tabloids say, nobody seriously disputes that he's been dead for a quarter-century; then again, somehow he's not.
So when Todd Morgan of Elvis Presley Enterprises tells reporters, "His career is at an all-time high," nobody questions the irony.
In the land of Elvis, newspaper articles discuss seriously whether a lock of his hair could someday produce an Elvis clone. And it's a land of determinedly selective memories, where the unhappy circumstances of his passing bloated, drugged and on the toilet at age 42 don't get mentioned.
"When Rosemary Clooney died, she was a great singer, but she had drug problems and she got really heavy," says Marie Vecchio of Huntington, N.Y. "Nobody talked about that, and it didn't matter. So why should Elvis be any different?"
Ms. Vecchio and her husband, Dominick, have come to Graceland every year since the 10th anniversary. She cries at the grave site and smiles the rest of the time.
Elvis Week didn't start out this way. Bobby Jones, media coordinator for Elvis Presley Enterprises, says that after Elvis died in 1977, his father, Vernon, lived quietly at Graceland. On the first anniversary, he says, a fan club from Austin wrote, asking permission to hold a candlelight service at the grave.
"His father said, 'I think Elvis would love this,' " Mr. Jones says. "So he allowed it. It was short and very sweet. Then things kind of developed from there."
HELEN JAU / DMN |
Vernon Presley died in 1979. Three years later, Graceland opened for tours, the faithful kept flocking to Memphis, and the guardians of Elvis' legacy decided that the death anniversary shouldn't only be melancholy.
Like a Star Wars convention, where every minor character is a hero and no detail is insignificant, anybody who played any part in Elvis' life is a hot commodity this week. In the packed ballroom of the downtown Peabody Hotel on Wednesday, fans hung on every word from a panel of people who knew the King.
Among the guests was Joan Blackman, who starred with Elvis in the 1961 movie Blue Hawaii. After the audience watched an excerpt that included a kiss, someone asked Ms. Blackman, "Tell us about that kiss."
"It was niiiice," she purred, and the crowd laughed and cheered.
Downstairs at the Peabody, Bernard Lansky was welcoming a steady stream of visitors to his clothing shop filled with flashy shirts, guitar-shaped ties and memorabilia that included a pink leather coat with a fur collar that he made for Elvis.
Mr. Lansky sold Elvis many of his distinctive outfits, earning him the title "Clothier to the King" and a spot on every fan's Memphis itinerary. These days, he's working on a new Elvis clothing line.
"We're thinking, 'What would Elvis look like in 2003?' " Mr. Lansky says. "It's going to be very sharp."
So if people want to celebrate on the day Elvis died, he says, "Why not? People come here from all over the world. For them, it's like going to shul [a Yiddish word for synagogue] to say kaddish."
He referred to a Hebrew prayer reaffirming faith in God, recited by Jews mourning a loved one.
"But here, it's a happy kaddish," Mr. Lansky says.
E-mail mprecker@dallasnews.com
That is great!
The things you find googling images for "Elvis Nixon"! Warning - it gets grosser!
By the way, do you happen to know what book the King was reading when he fell off the golden toilet for the last time 25 years ago today? The internet references I found today state it was "The Scientific Search for the Face of Jesus," by one Frank O. Adams, but I remember reading back in August 1977 that it was a book alleging that Jesus had been a space alien! I suspect that inconvenient facts might have been cleaned up by Elvis Presley Enterprises, Inc (unless the Adams book had the space alien bit.)
I'm surprised 'The Colonel' would've allowed that to happen.Talk about major goofs in the history of the world,Whew!
Here's a picture I found on someone's personal website via Google Search.....
I'll also post a couple of his birthplace right after this one.....
Yeah, the quote to which you are referring is the one that stood out to me, even among those mind-boggling sales stats. I'd like to know how much RCA has gained from that one deal. It has to be at least ..... well, I can't begin to guess.
You're welcomed. Uh, guess I don't remember old Onie, but seems Mr. Google Search do. And thanks for that nice story!........
In Tupelo, a forgotten, funky provincial hole at the time, the shack where Elvis grew up looked nothing like the picture you've posted; as I recall it was empty inside, run down outside, no one beside me and a couple of stray or neighbourhood dogs around.
All in all, things were in their natural state, falling apart, naturally decaying, instead of being lifeless museum-like Disneyland artifacts they've been turned into today. (You can guess my personal preference.) I wish I had spent more time in those places, taken more pitchers, spoken longer to Vernon's brother, to Sam Philips' son running a run down record store and walked away from it with more of his 10 cent 45RPM Sun Records singles he let me rummage through in the back.
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