and Me
August 15, 1977 was a very bad night for me and millions of others who loved Elvis and his music. The wondrous voice that never failed him, even in the darkest days of his final dissapation, was now silent. I stayed up all night playing his records and wondering what a world without Elvis would be like. Of course the world has mourned Elvis by making Elvis the world's most successful dead celebrity with wealth that far eclipsed what the King knew in his lifetime.
I have always loved all kinds of music, but in 1972 at age 14, I discovered MUSIC. In one night my life was forever changed when ABC ran JOHNNY CASH AT SAN QUENTEIN and A HARD DAY'S NIGHT back to back. Later that year I got my first Elvis album.. Between the Beatles and Elvis I was living life at a new level. I had found the Promised Land: musical Heaven.
In Elvis I found far more than a favorite singer that sang great
songs. After reading the 1972 biography by rock writer Jerry
Hopkins I found a personna that I wanted to emulate. I saw the
gold tuxebdo and solid gold Caddillac and girlfriends like Ann-
Margaret and Batgirl. This was obviously a great job. The only
thing I lacked was musical talent of any kind, charisma and looks.
But Elvis fed my hopeless teen fantasies and sustained my
crippled self-image and over-developed sense of inferiority.
Think about it: no zit-ridden adolescent with futile rock and
roll dreams will stack up well against a gold lame demi-god
who has the power of communicating in virtually every type
of popular music. No matter how many times I stood with
my Mom's guitar and swiveled my hips in front of her full
length mirror or listened to that voice and envisinoned my-
self on the stage, it never came any closer to becoming a
reality and it never would.
Elvis did play a part in one absolutely perfect day of my
life. It was my eighteenth birthday. School was out
that day, though not in my honor. A 22 year old female
friend of mine took me to lunch at Country Kitchen,
much to the green eyed envy of my friends. My Mom
made my favorite spaghetti an invited my best friends
to a surprise party after supper. To top it off I watched
Elvis in SPINOUT from the comfort of a beanbag chair
specially made by Mom to accoodate my 6'2 frame.
Along with the day I got married, the day we brought my
son home, and the day I finally graduated from college,
it was a perfect day.
I was an unwilling witness to my hero's obvious physical erosion.
It was obvious that it began with the divorce from Priscilla and
accelerated with the departure of Linda Thompson. Like most of
Elvis' hardcore fans I was in serious denial. But the truth of the
sad reality of his life was gradually breaking through his ultra-cool,
have-it-all personna. Clues to a bitter, inner unhapiness were
screaming for our attention. This became very clear in the songs
he was choosing to record. It was moody, introspective music to
slit your wrist by. Elvis also said on a live talking album that his
one true musical ambition was to be in a gospel quartet like the
Imperials (Pictured here.) or the Stamps. Gospel music was Elvis'
passion and arguably his true calling simply
because it was what made his heart sing. It
was his the music that he retreated to between
takes on Hollywood sets and shows inVegas.
It gave meaning and depth to hismusic in the
Sixties and was part of the '68Comeback
Special. It also garnered him his only Grammy
recognition. In truth Elvis would have probably
preferred the relative obscurity of being a bari-
tone in a gospel quartet to being the idol of mil-
lions. And he would probably still be with us.
When I took home MOODY BLUE and lis-
tened to the album I was feeling good about
Elvis. I thought it was the best thing he had
done in a long time. Only one song, "It's Easy
for You", another oppressive weeper, came up
short. I thought, that like Sinatra before him, his
greatest moments of performing and recording
were still ahead. Later that night my Mom told
me Elvis had died.
(I promise this will end upbeat.) There has been
endless speculation over Elvis' death and it calls
for reflection by those of us who loved Elvis. One of
those speculations that supposedly has some evi-
dentiary proof is that Elvis intentionally self-induced
his heart failure with a drug overdose of perscription
meds. By the end of his career Col. Paker was taking
an unbelievable 50% of his client's earnings. This is
unheard of. It is not beyond the realm of possibility
that the Colonel "had something" on Elvis. Elvis may
have tired of being his cah cow. Ultimately I did both
Elvis and myself a terrible disservice by idolizing him.
Fans want their love for their idol to draw him closer.
In reality their demands for attention crush therir hero
and drive him into seclusion behind gates and walls.
Even in Graceland he found little comfort and no real
warmth or intimacy. He had turned his lovers into
substitute mothers and reduced his friends to mere
employees. Hehad everything I thought I ever wanted
and he was miserable. I realized Elvis could never
meet my need for self-acceptance and self-worth.
He couldn't meet his own. No man can successfully
walk in God's shoes.
A funny thing happened. When I stopped idolizing
Elvis and using him by living through him vicariously
I appreciated him more as a human being and loved
his singing more.for what it was. I also began a jour-
ney to find what made my heart sing. I found out that
at my best I can do with words what Elvis does with a
song. This has been a sad and difficult piece to write
because Elvis' joy in performing was finally outdis-
tanced by the emptiness of his life. But the final
triumph of Elvis as an artist is the endurance of his
legacy. His ultimate lasting gift to us is that voice that
never failed.
Thanks Elvis.
ELVIS HAS LEFT THE BUILDING...
JESUS IS COMING BACK...
AND HE'S SEEN ELVIS.
