I can’t help but think of my favorite Elvis fan, Van, on today, the 30th anniversary of Elvis’ death. I remember vividly where I was when I heard he had died (Elvis…not Van). I was too young (?) to remember the assassinations in earlier years….but I remember where I was when I heard Elvis died, when Lennon died and then, in a different category, when the Challenger exploded and when 9/11 happened. I’m sort of surprised by that odd collection of memories….but that’s what I have……
So…..thirty years ago I was 15 years old and I was working at an antique shop on weekends. The owners went to Minnesota during the summer so it really became "my shop" during that time. I rearranged, I polished, I set up tableaus….man I loved it. So one day, a woman and her daughter pulled up to the shop. I walked over from the house and said hello and the woman said to me, "did you hear that Elvis died? My daughter is SO upset." Of course her daughter immediately erupted, "oh MOTHER" in embarrassment but I understood. I don’t know why I remember it so vividly….I wasn’t particularly a huge Elvis fan…..but I do.
Tonight…before Owen fell asleep VERY early on the couch I was watching some various Elvis shows. Owen asked who it was and if everybody loved him (because of all the screams on the footage). I told him that yes, a lot of people loved him and that his name was Elvis Presley but that a lot of people just called him Elvis. He thought about it and then commented that they could also just call him Presley. I agreed. Then he said the thought he looked kind of like a girl because of his eyelashes…. I told him I knew what he meant. I kept watching and he fell asleep.
When I was really young, in our gang, Elvis was considered a greaser from an ancient time. In our first grade understanding of things, he was of our parents’ generation, whereas the Beatles represented the now and the future. We played our baseball bat guitars and shook our not quite mop-top heads, and whenever Elvis came up it was pure derision. It seemed like such a clear divide back then. I was on a pilgrimage out to NYC when the news of Elvis’ death came on the radio. It didn’t faze me too much at the time. It seemed appropriate, somehow, because the punk stuff was happening. It wasn’t until later that I came to appreciate him more. Such an American phenomenon, with all that that implies. To hear that it was 30 years ago makes me feel really, really old. As far as those “remember where you were” deaths, though, Kennedy and Lennon are it for me. Man, I AM really old …
When I was really young, in our gang, Elvis was considered a greaser from an ancient time. In our first grade understanding of things, he was of our parents’ generation, whereas the Beatles represented the now and the future. We played our baseball bat guitars and shook our not quite mop-top heads, and whenever Elvis came up it was pure derision. It seemed like such a clear divide back then. I was on a pilgrimage out to NYC when the news of Elvis’ death came on the radio. It didn’t faze me too much at the time. It seemed appropriate, somehow, because the punk stuff was happening. It wasn’t until later that I came to appreciate him more. Such an American phenomenon, with all that that implies. To hear that it was 30 years ago makes me feel really, really old. As far as those “remember where you were” deaths, though, Kennedy and Lennon are it for me. Man, I AM really old …
Cynthia—I appreciate your thinking of Elvis and me. As always I really enjoyed reading your post. The day of Elvis’s death is one that I vividly recall as well, because I was busy preparing for a major move that would ultimately change my life forever. The next day, I arrived in Champaign, IL, where I lived for 10 years.
When I was growing up in Elvis’s hometown of Tupelo, Mississippi, among people my age, it was very uncool to like Elvis. Like Kenny, I was a part of the “Beatles generation” and the first bands that impacted me were those that fell under the rubric of the “British Invasion.”
In fact, I did not become an Elvis fan until way, way after the fact, so to speak.
Oddly and ironically enough, my Elvis fandom literally grew out of my identification with punk. On January 8, 1978 (also the date of Elvis’s birth) the Sex Pistols performed in Memphis. At the last minute, I was able to acquire tickets.
As I walked toward the dilapidated concert hall, where the Pistols were to perform, I noticed two lines of people. One led to the entrance of the concert hall, and this line consisted of “punked out” adolescents and young adults. The other line led into a convention center that was hosting a 3-day Elvis memorabilia show. This particular line consisted of thousands of international Elvis fans.
What an incredible sight—those two lines—almost physically touching one another, yet in many ways, so psychically divergent.
On the following day (after recovering from the Sex Pistols show—a story unto itself), I decided to attend the Elvis memorabilia show. While there my conception of Elvis fans changed dramatically. Like many, I had based my overall image of fans on derisive media reports and exploitative newspaper photographs. However, at the convention, I met many fans that were in my age range; in particular there were roughly 400 working class British fans that seemed to fall between the ages of 18-29.
The most interesting thing about these fans was the fact that they drew heavily on Memphis rockabilly style; in particular the fans dressed in an extremely flamboyant manner (the gold lame suits were especially bombastic). In addition, they viewed Elvis as a gateway to understanding the oppressive working class “caste system” in Britain—-the system that caused these fans to feel “trapped” and without a lot of hope. Because of Elvis’s upbringing, and his disavowal of the typical ways in which stars spend money, British fans also found that he provided a “blueprint” for survival.
These fans intrigued me so much that after that day I began to slowly investigate Presley’s music. As time went on I purchased Presley’s records; I became friends with numerous US and British fans; I continued to attend yearly conventions and conferences in Memphis; I became a bona fide fan.
Bob Dylan once claimed of Elvis, “Hearing him for the first time was like busting out of jail.” Keith Richard explains: “Before Elvis, everything was in black and white. Then came Elvis. Zoom, glorious Technicolor.” I couldn’t agree with them more.
Thanks again, Cynthia.
Cynthia—I appreciate your thinking of Elvis and me. As always I really enjoyed reading your post. The day of Elvis’s death is one that I vividly recall as well, because I was busy preparing for a major move that would ultimately change my life forever. The next day, I arrived in Champaign, IL, where I lived for 10 years.
When I was growing up in Elvis’s hometown of Tupelo, Mississippi, among people my age, it was very uncool to like Elvis. Like Kenny, I was a part of the “Beatles generation” and the first bands that impacted me were those that fell under the rubric of the “British Invasion.”
In fact, I did not become an Elvis fan until way, way after the fact, so to speak.
Oddly and ironically enough, my Elvis fandom literally grew out of my identification with punk. On January 8, 1978 (also the date of Elvis’s birth) the Sex Pistols performed in Memphis. At the last minute, I was able to acquire tickets.
As I walked toward the dilapidated concert hall, where the Pistols were to perform, I noticed two lines of people. One led to the entrance of the concert hall, and this line consisted of “punked out” adolescents and young adults. The other line led into a convention center that was hosting a 3-day Elvis memorabilia show. This particular line consisted of thousands of international Elvis fans.
What an incredible sight—those two lines—almost physically touching one another, yet in many ways, so psychically divergent.
On the following day (after recovering from the Sex Pistols show—a story unto itself), I decided to attend the Elvis memorabilia show. While there my conception of Elvis fans changed dramatically. Like many, I had based my overall image of fans on derisive media reports and exploitative newspaper photographs. However, at the convention, I met many fans that were in my age range; in particular there were roughly 400 working class British fans that seemed to fall between the ages of 18-29.
The most interesting thing about these fans was the fact that they drew heavily on Memphis rockabilly style; in particular the fans dressed in an extremely flamboyant manner (the gold lame suits were especially bombastic). In addition, they viewed Elvis as a gateway to understanding the oppressive working class “caste system” in Britain—-the system that caused these fans to feel “trapped” and without a lot of hope. Because of Elvis’s upbringing, and his disavowal of the typical ways in which stars spend money, British fans also found that he provided a “blueprint” for survival.
These fans intrigued me so much that after that day I began to slowly investigate Presley’s music. As time went on I purchased Presley’s records; I became friends with numerous US and British fans; I continued to attend yearly conventions and conferences in Memphis; I became a bona fide fan.
Bob Dylan once claimed of Elvis, “Hearing him for the first time was like busting out of jail.” Keith Richard explains: “Before Elvis, everything was in black and white. Then came Elvis. Zoom, glorious Technicolor.” I couldn’t agree with them more.
Thanks again, Cynthia.
I was in Arkansas when I heard the news of Elvis’s death. My parents had a summer house there along the White River. I was at my girlfriend, Jody’s, house when she told me the news. Her mom was on the phone, quickly calling everyone she knew to tell them of his death. I just shrugged my shoulders, not understanding what the big fuss was all about. I hadn’t realized how much Elvis meant to her and her mom. They gave me a little talkin’ to about the greatness of The King of Rock ‘n Roll. But, it wasn’t until later in life (probably my 30’s) that I began to appreciate his music.
It’s a great video of him that you posted – shows how great music holds onto its own power through the passage of time. It had me shakin’ my boobies just sittin’ here in my desk chair. And, what’s happenin’ – after watchin’ the video, I’m droppin’ all the “g”s off my “ing”s.
I was in Arkansas when I heard the news of Elvis’s death. My parents had a summer house there along the White River. I was at my girlfriend, Jody’s, house when she told me the news. Her mom was on the phone, quickly calling everyone she knew to tell them of his death. I just shrugged my shoulders, not understanding what the big fuss was all about. I hadn’t realized how much Elvis meant to her and her mom. They gave me a little talkin’ to about the greatness of The King of Rock ‘n Roll. But, it wasn’t until later in life (probably my 30’s) that I began to appreciate his music.
It’s a great video of him that you posted – shows how great music holds onto its own power through the passage of time. It had me shakin’ my boobies just sittin’ here in my desk chair. And, what’s happenin’ – after watchin’ the video, I’m droppin’ all the “g”s off my “ing”s.