2008 Woodie Awards
Lifelong Elvis fan journeys to Graceland
Stacie MacLaughlin
Issue date: 3/28/08 Section: Arts and Leisure
My spring break was spent in Memphis, Tenn., where I expected the kind of visible fan dedication and obsession one might find at a Star Trek convention-Starfleet uniforms and pointy ears in exchange for bejeweled jumpsuits and sideburns.
I went expecting to get to Graceland, the former home of Elvis Presley, and see psychotic fans flinging themselves upon his grave in big piles of tears and antidepressants. I went expecting to debate people on whether the man himself would come walking down the mansion stairs at any minute. I got none of that-but what I did get was one of the best spring breaks of my college career.
Presley was my first true love. As a child, I was sung to sleep every night with "Love Me Tender." I would sing his songs in the grocery store with my grandma. By the time I could talk, I was singing "I Can't Stop Falling in Love" to my Ken doll. I kept his picture in my plastic pink Lisa Frank wallet. I was still in diapers when I found out that he was dead.
Since that jarring revelation, I made no attempt to hide my obsession from the world. I've subjected my friends to his less than inspired movies and constant asinine factoids about the King of Rock and Roll, including where he lived and how he got started. His picture has since been relocated from my wallet to my dorm walls, but I knew that in order to consider myself a true fan, I would have to get to Memphis, Tenn.-the birthplace of blues and rock and roll.
Presley was born in Mississippi, but moved to the outskirts of Memphis at age 13. In the heart of Memphis, Graceland became a home and a refuge to the man who everyone wanted a piece of. Until his death in 1977, Graceland served so many functions that it has since become a living, breathing time capsule-a monument not only to rock and roll royalty, but to the beginnings of the genre itself.
Ever the money-making machine, Elvis died unaware that his Memphis jewel would someday become the pinnacle of a billion dollar industry. Just across the street from the mansion is a plaza chockfull of restaurants, gift shops and attractions-a tourist's paradise that proves that Presley Enterprises has made him more money in death than he ever could have dreamed in life.
I went expecting to get to Graceland, the former home of Elvis Presley, and see psychotic fans flinging themselves upon his grave in big piles of tears and antidepressants. I went expecting to debate people on whether the man himself would come walking down the mansion stairs at any minute. I got none of that-but what I did get was one of the best spring breaks of my college career.
Presley was my first true love. As a child, I was sung to sleep every night with "Love Me Tender." I would sing his songs in the grocery store with my grandma. By the time I could talk, I was singing "I Can't Stop Falling in Love" to my Ken doll. I kept his picture in my plastic pink Lisa Frank wallet. I was still in diapers when I found out that he was dead.
Since that jarring revelation, I made no attempt to hide my obsession from the world. I've subjected my friends to his less than inspired movies and constant asinine factoids about the King of Rock and Roll, including where he lived and how he got started. His picture has since been relocated from my wallet to my dorm walls, but I knew that in order to consider myself a true fan, I would have to get to Memphis, Tenn.-the birthplace of blues and rock and roll.
Presley was born in Mississippi, but moved to the outskirts of Memphis at age 13. In the heart of Memphis, Graceland became a home and a refuge to the man who everyone wanted a piece of. Until his death in 1977, Graceland served so many functions that it has since become a living, breathing time capsule-a monument not only to rock and roll royalty, but to the beginnings of the genre itself.
Ever the money-making machine, Elvis died unaware that his Memphis jewel would someday become the pinnacle of a billion dollar industry. Just across the street from the mansion is a plaza chockfull of restaurants, gift shops and attractions-a tourist's paradise that proves that Presley Enterprises has made him more money in death than he ever could have dreamed in life.
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