But I was never a fan of Elvis. I preferred Ricky Nelson whose style of singing was more restrained and projected a clean, boy-next-door, safe-to-bring-home-to-Mama type. In contrast, my friend Maurita Arce, hummed, danced, rocked and swooned over Elvis and always spoke of one day visiting Graceland to absorb as much of Elvis as there was.
When Rita Dy convinced us to buy tickets to Singapore Air Lines’ inaugural, non-stop flight to New York leaving on June 28, Maurita saw the golden opportunity. "Why not visit Graceland?" she exclaimed.
And so we went.
When we got to New York, we took AirTran, a domestic, no-frills flight. When we touched down at the Memphis Airport, I found that the flight was full of baby boomers all wanting to pay tribute to the King and relive their hip-shaking days even if they had grown thick around the waist and bare on top.
"Mom, I booked you at the Heartbreak Hotel," repeated my son. He obviously knew how to feed his Tita Maurita’s mania and this hotel was going to do just that. There were non-stop Elvis music, in-house movies of Elvis and life size photos of Elvis adorning every wall in the guest rooms and in all the public areas. The hotel staff was appropriately dressed in black, short-sleeved shirts (made even shorter by rolling up the sleeves) with matching black pants in keeping with the mournful, heart-broken theme of Elvis’ first record that hit the gold charts.
The following morning, our alarm belted out, "You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog" and by the time we finished our hot waffles breakfast and walked past the gates of Graceland, we were literally shaking our hips to the tune of Baby, let me be your loving teddy bear.
There was an air of fun and nostalgia made even more apparent the week we arrived because the whole rock n’ roll world was celebrating the 50th anniversary of Elvis’ first recorded song That’s All Right (That’s all right li’l mama, that’s all right with you.)
It was on July 5, 1954 when a 19-year-old Elvis was jamming with his singing group at the Sun Recording Studios in downtown Memphis but even after several hours, they still had not found a perfect song to record. Elvis decided to rest his voice and began playing around with a song that expressed a don’t-worry message – thus, That’s all right lil’ Mama. When the owner of the studio heard him sing, he stumbled out of the recording booth, brimming with excitement. "Why did you only sing that song now? We could have waxed it in one take and gotten a hit sooner?" asked the studio owner.
Back to Graceland. The crowd thickened quickly. We got a platinum card which costs $27.00+. It included a tour of his house, its wide grounds (except the sleeping areas of Elvis and daughter Lisa), his two private airplanes, "Lisa Marie" and "Hound Dog II", his collection of automobiles and motorcycles, his trophy room, sports room, the meditation garden, his collection of costumes, plaques, his gold and platinum albums and more prints, videos, film clips and gifts from fans and charitable institutions.
As we waited for our bus, I saw the art of savvy merchandising practiced to perfection in his estate: Two Graceland employees led visitors behind a reproduction of the main gate while another employee quickly snapped a picture with his camera. "Your photos can be claimed after the tour," added the photographer. (For $20, you get two copies of the souvenir shot plus a key chain).
Another Graceland employee barked a reminder, "No video cameras please and no flash photography." Each of us was given a headphone and a control pad that played a taped recording describing in detail each area of the compound. When I pressed the start button, Elvis’ familiar voice sang the opening of a soft, haunting refrain, "Welcome to my world, won’t you come on in, step into my heart."
Gladly, we did.
Cordoned ropes prevented the visitors from actually stepping inside each room but interesting pieces were properly highlighted even from afar. Maurita shrieked with delight when she saw two peacock-designed stained glass panels in the living room. "Did you see that? Elvis also liked peacocks!" A 15-foot sofa and a 10-foot coffee table dominated the room.
The dining room had the table set with blue china and matching linens with French cabinets on both sides of the room. It housed a big collection of cut crystals and fine bone china.
His music room was done in yellow, blue and white with three big TV consuls said to show the three main TV network stations simultaneously. If you compare them to the sleek and high-tech plasma TV sets we have now, they’re not impressive at all but one must remember that Elvis’ success in the movie and recording industries enabled him to buy the latest, top-of-the-line, audio-visual equipment available during his time.
His expensive home furnishings and artifacts could be classified as "over-the-top" verging on the eccentric but it was clear that he loved and used them. Through the years, each piece acquired a degree of value and rarity.
I thought the billiard room stood out among the other "wild and weird" décor around the house because it takes a gutsy person to cover the entire area with 400 yards of brightly colored printed cotton fabric that was cut, pasted, and meticulously hand-pleated on the walls and the entire ceiling. The look was busy and dizzying to the eyes but it captured the fun and frolic Elvis had in this room as he played pool with friends and entourage.
The trophy building and his exhibit hall were mind-boggling; Elvis amassed an enormous collection of accolades and citations from grateful fans, recording studios, and the general public who could not have enough of his music, his aura and his legacy. I was dumbstruck at how a single man could have reaped so much praise in his lifetime.
Visitors were eagerly taking souvenir photos from their cameras and when we got to the automobile museum, I gamely posed next to his purple El Dorado Cadillac that has an equally interesting story to tell.
In 1956, Elvis saw the Cadillac which was originally painted white in a showroom window but when he approached the salesman about it, he was ignored because he didn’t project the image of a man who could afford to buy a luxury car. Feeling insulted, he noticed an older African American man washing cars for the dealership. He quickly went back into the showroom and this time asked for the manager. He pointed to the Cadillac and told the manager that he was paying cash but on condition that the sales commission should go to the wash car man. Later on, he had the color changed by squeezing a bunch of grapes to get the authentic shade of purple he had in mind.
The story doesn’t end there. When Elvis eventually sold the old purple Cadillac, a fan bought it and drove it until 1964 and stored it in a shed until her death. It was subsequently abandoned until a couple, both Elvis fans, bought it at an auction for $975 in 1976. They spent $30,000 restoring it with the intention of showing it to Elvis to surprise him but Elvis died before they were able to do that. The present owners decided to bring the car back to Graceland on long-term loan to the estate. (His mom, Gladys, was a purple aficionado. Even her bedroom was done in deep purple.)
Another story involved Elvis and the first Stutz Black Hawk luxury car ever built. It was supposedly custom-made for Frank Sinatra but it never reached Sinatra because Elvis charmed the dealer into selling it to him.
There were publicity excerpts from movies with an Elvis theme like Walt Disney’s Lilo & Stitch, 2000 Miles to Graceland, and poignant letters from fans who sent gifts and who bought back Elvis memorabilia in auctions and in flea markets. Fans willingly and generously donated items from their private collection to Graceland for the general public to appreciate and enjoy. They believed in carrying out Elvis’ philosophy of sharing by giving back blessings that would be returned many times over.
Elvis was kind and generous. He never forgot his poor and deprived beginnings and had a soft heart for those who didn’t have plenty in life. He was a voracious reader and loved to read stories on the bible and spiritual philosophies. He adored his mother. His estate felt more like a fraternity house with anyone who knocked on the door welcomed as a brother.
By the time we completed the tour, Maurita swore that we just came out of a retreat – not spiritual – but almost with the same intensity and purpose.
I too was transformed. I acquired a kinder, deeper understanding of the man behind the rock n’ roll legend. His big heart showed through his flashy jumpsuits, his enormous diamond trinkets and his thick, bushy side burns.
After stuffing our weekend bags with Elvis overkill (kitchen recipes, umbrellas, snow balls, playing cards, tee shirts, stuffed toys, key chains, glassware, leather jackets, picture frames, lunch boxes, even a battery-operated wall clock of Elvis’ swinging pelvis and just about anything that made the cash register ring), Maurita sadly turned to me and said, "We are the last generation who grew up with Elvis songs, Elvis movies, the man himself. Do you think our children will ever get to know him?"
Before I could put my arms around my nostalgia-stricken friend, the entire stretch of the Elvis Presley Boulevard suddenly came to life with piped-in music of Elvis singing "Hoo, hoo, hoo feel my temperature rising higher and higher, it’s burning through my soul."
How could anyone forget Elvis? His music is continuously played and his memory will burn alive in the hearts of those he touched and continues to touch.
If you ask me, that’s a "hunk-a, hunk-a" lot of love.