One of the newspaper articles that caught my eye last week was about an annual pilgrimage some women made to Graceland, the home of rock king Elvis Presley. I once tried to tour Elvis’s home in Memphis, many years ago, but the two guys I was with refused to go along and threatened to leave me, so I had to be satisfied with taking pictures at the driveway gate, a wrought iron maze of musical notes and two gyrating EP’s.
The guys did concede to go inside a few of the tourist trap shops located across the street. I was amazed at what was being sold in the name of our Lord Elvis…not just T-shirts, shot glasses, and records but games, jewelry (lots and lots of TCB bling), blue suede shoes, velvet wall hangings, and huge bolts of material. Just what I wanted…an ensemble made out of “Jail House Rock.” When I started chuckling over the crass merchandising, one of the guys with me, a Memphis resident at the time, got “All Shook Up” and hushed me. Pronto. “This is sacred territory. You’ll get people riled.” (Likely the same reaction I got years later at Branson, Mo. when I chuckled at an Elvis impersonator performing inside a Wendy’s---“Yikes! Elvis is in the building and singing for quarter pounders!”)
If Elvis Presley hadn’t abused his body and was still alive, he would be 73 years old now. Sadly, he is arguably worth more money dead than he was when he was alive. I recently checked the Graceland website and adult tickets for the tour of the home range from $27 to $68. Between 500,000-600,000 people visit each year. Forbes magazine says his estate rakes in about $50 million a year. That’s a whole lot of “Love Me Tender” in my estimation.
Growing up, I wasn’t a rabid Elvis fan. When he hit the music scene, I was more interested in roller skating and playing jacks. My only Elvis possessions are a Teen Idol Special Edition Elvis doll, the early Elvis, that Beans gave me many years ago, and an In Search of Elvis book from the Library Lady. It’s based on the Where’s Waldo books. Scads of chubby Elvii (that's my own plural form for Elvis), dressed in the trademark white jumpsuit, are scattered about ten different settings once actually graced by EP…a Memphis burger joint, Las Vegas casino, Hawaiian beach…places like that. But, alas, oddly, no Graceland. There may be a good reason for such a glaring omission, though. I suspect the home-sweet-home Graceland royalty rights were just too high. Elvis isn’t called The King for nothing, you know!
2 comments:
I've never been to Memphis but I've heard that Graceland really is an amazing place to visit. He sure did have a voice though. :-) Check my blog for a note I wrote to you!
I love a show on TV called dinner Impossible. one of the "missions" was to have this superb British chef go to Graceland and cook a Southern dinner for Prisillas and 100 of Elvis' most ardent fans. the dinner was cooked and held at Graceland and Pricilla even gave him a tour of the most private vaults of Elvis' possessions. The menu was to die for, thirteen dishes including fried chicken, okra, cornbread, grits, beans, peach pie etc. the fans were so thrilled to win a place at the special dinner. High Margin has an aunt who is an Elvis fanatic. She tells me the money that people waste on Elvix chatskis would just go on beer and bowling anyway. I actually went to a lecture once that treated Jail House Rock to an analysis comparable to what we'd do with Moby Dick!! To each his own.
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