ELVIS: The Same Humble Beginnings
We lived in the same low income, government housing project in our early childhood: Lauderdale Courts in Memphis, Tenn. He was born in Tupelo, Miss. and his family like my grandparents were survivors of the Depression. He was 4 years ahead of me in high school. He attended Hughes High and my high school was the next one down the road...East High. We never met, but our southern routes were similar and we loved the same kind of music.
My sister and I would sneak to the radio late at night in our room so our grandmother wouldn’t hear us, to turn on the “black” music station and hear the really bluesy, soulful, funky music coming out of Memphis, the blues capital of the world. And, if we were good kids, Sunday night after church, the youth pastor would take us all across town to sit in the balcony and listen to the best gospel music ever. The little, clapboard church would literally shake on it’s foundation as the choirs rocked out.
If only the white population had something or someone like that, we would say. Well, one fine day, my Daddy, who worked at a large music store downtown, sold a beautiful guitar to an unknown, polite little guy. They threw his old, beat up guitar from Sears in the trash. (Oh, to have that souvenir now, Daddy would say in later years!) His name was Elvis Presley. Elvis never forgot how my Daddy helped him and so began our favorite family story.
Elvis soon, as you know, went on to become the King of Rock and Roll. Pop music would never be the same as he delivered, swivel hips and all, a beat the world could not resist. It was what we had secretly been listening to on “black” radio for years, but he brought it all to mainstream America. We danced our hearts out in high school and college to, “Blue Suede Shoes”, “Hound Dog”. “All Shook Up”…(with all those profound literary lyrics), and wept over every high school break-up to the tune of, “Heart Break Hotel.”
As I said, Elvis never forgot Daddy. Daddy was a violinist…quite an entertainer…and had a strolling trio of violinists who played for fancy parties in Memphis, strolling around the party and taking requests. He played at Graceland for many of Elvis’s birthday parties. Elvis was very loyal to the people he trusted. When Elvis was on the road, he would frequently and generously throw out to the audience a guitar or two as souvenirs. They were good ones too, like expensive Martin, Gibson and Ovation guitars. Daddy would get the call to send him more guitars because Elvis knew Daddy knew exactly what kind of touch Elvis wanted in a guitar.
When Elvis bought Graceland, I was going to college at Cal State Northridge, having spent many years in upstate New York…but that’s another story.
All those years after he died, I avoided visiting Graceland because I thought it would be a cheap, cheesy tourist attraction. Finally, in 1994, while visiting my family in Memphis, my little sisters took me to Graceland. I was impressed with how tastefully it was and is kept. In fact, due to tasteful planning, Graceland today brings the Presley family more now than what he earned in his career! Indeed, what seems like miles of hallways are lined with his gold records. The enormity of his popularity really hits you when you see them. Memphis is still rampant with the stories of Elvis’s generosity. A very poor church, for example, in the poverty section of town wrote Elvis and asked him to pay for repairing their organ. He, instead, remodeled the whole church.
I think of him often, actually. I listen to the gospel music he so loved and hear a heart unafraid to show pure emotion. I think of the tragedy of his getting hooked on prescription drugs, exacerbated by insomnia; the tragedy of him being so charismatic that whatever he said was law and few dared challenge him for fear of losing their job or his friendship. I regret that so few understood the dangers at that time.
But most of all I remember his humble beginnings, so like my own, which hardly prepared him for such a treacherous world of negotiating contracts and wondering who to trust. Yes, there was the joy of great wealth, but he was also a prisoner in his own home.
I went on to work my way through college, become a junior high and high school teacher, and later spent 12 years in radio doing broadcast news, designing ad campaigns and negotiating contracts, before going into real estate 14 years ago. Somehow, fractured family and all, I got the message that if I got my education, no one could take that away from me. Somehow, out there I had guidance when I needed it to steer me in the right direction. I wish Elvis could have had the same. Yes, he had some great successes and tons of money. But I wish he could have been happy too. I hope we can all learn something from his tragic ending.
My sister and I would sneak to the radio late at night in our room so our grandmother wouldn’t hear us, to turn on the “black” music station and hear the really bluesy, soulful, funky music coming out of Memphis, the blues capital of the world. And, if we were good kids, Sunday night after church, the youth pastor would take us all across town to sit in the balcony and listen to the best gospel music ever. The little, clapboard church would literally shake on it’s foundation as the choirs rocked out.
If only the white population had something or someone like that, we would say. Well, one fine day, my Daddy, who worked at a large music store downtown, sold a beautiful guitar to an unknown, polite little guy. They threw his old, beat up guitar from Sears in the trash. (Oh, to have that souvenir now, Daddy would say in later years!) His name was Elvis Presley. Elvis never forgot how my Daddy helped him and so began our favorite family story.
Elvis soon, as you know, went on to become the King of Rock and Roll. Pop music would never be the same as he delivered, swivel hips and all, a beat the world could not resist. It was what we had secretly been listening to on “black” radio for years, but he brought it all to mainstream America. We danced our hearts out in high school and college to, “Blue Suede Shoes”, “Hound Dog”. “All Shook Up”…(with all those profound literary lyrics), and wept over every high school break-up to the tune of, “Heart Break Hotel.”
As I said, Elvis never forgot Daddy. Daddy was a violinist…quite an entertainer…and had a strolling trio of violinists who played for fancy parties in Memphis, strolling around the party and taking requests. He played at Graceland for many of Elvis’s birthday parties. Elvis was very loyal to the people he trusted. When Elvis was on the road, he would frequently and generously throw out to the audience a guitar or two as souvenirs. They were good ones too, like expensive Martin, Gibson and Ovation guitars. Daddy would get the call to send him more guitars because Elvis knew Daddy knew exactly what kind of touch Elvis wanted in a guitar.
When Elvis bought Graceland, I was going to college at Cal State Northridge, having spent many years in upstate New York…but that’s another story.
All those years after he died, I avoided visiting Graceland because I thought it would be a cheap, cheesy tourist attraction. Finally, in 1994, while visiting my family in Memphis, my little sisters took me to Graceland. I was impressed with how tastefully it was and is kept. In fact, due to tasteful planning, Graceland today brings the Presley family more now than what he earned in his career! Indeed, what seems like miles of hallways are lined with his gold records. The enormity of his popularity really hits you when you see them. Memphis is still rampant with the stories of Elvis’s generosity. A very poor church, for example, in the poverty section of town wrote Elvis and asked him to pay for repairing their organ. He, instead, remodeled the whole church.
I think of him often, actually. I listen to the gospel music he so loved and hear a heart unafraid to show pure emotion. I think of the tragedy of his getting hooked on prescription drugs, exacerbated by insomnia; the tragedy of him being so charismatic that whatever he said was law and few dared challenge him for fear of losing their job or his friendship. I regret that so few understood the dangers at that time.
But most of all I remember his humble beginnings, so like my own, which hardly prepared him for such a treacherous world of negotiating contracts and wondering who to trust. Yes, there was the joy of great wealth, but he was also a prisoner in his own home.
I went on to work my way through college, become a junior high and high school teacher, and later spent 12 years in radio doing broadcast news, designing ad campaigns and negotiating contracts, before going into real estate 14 years ago. Somehow, fractured family and all, I got the message that if I got my education, no one could take that away from me. Somehow, out there I had guidance when I needed it to steer me in the right direction. I wish Elvis could have had the same. Yes, he had some great successes and tons of money. But I wish he could have been happy too. I hope we can all learn something from his tragic ending.
posted by Ann Baker, Realtor at
7:02 PM
