MEMPHIS, Tenn. -- Is Elvis back in the building?
I asked myself this question when the TV suddenly changed programs all by itself. I was visiting the home of a Memphis woman who believes her modest, ranch-style house is haunted by the spirit of a man who used to live in the mansion behind her. Fellow by the name of Elvis.
No doubt accustomed to suspicious minds, Phyllis P. Collas (the "P" stands for Presley) had popped in a videotape of TV features done on her house. I watched psychics take the psychic temperature of her den (they rated it 9 out of a possible 10), wise-cracking deejays become believers after spending the night here, and Collas describe the strange but routine occurrences: The lights flicker, she finds the toilet seat raised in the morning (isn't that just like a man?) and the TV switches channels.
The next thing I knew, the screen changed to a schedule of coming programs. Whoa. Was Elvis here in the room channel surfing? Could it be he was lonesome tonight?
Collas, who had stepped out rather than watch the tape for the umpteenth time, returned. "Oh," she says, "did the tape run out?"
Riiiiiight. The tape.
I realize that was quite a brush with Elvis, but I'm still not sure if it ranks as the moment when I felt closest to the King. When I felt as though I had walked in his blue suede shoes.
I had come to Memphis to experience part of what true, dyed-in-the-polyester fans will experience this August, when they arrive by the bus-load on the annual pilgrimage to commemorate the death of Elvis Presley. This year being the 20th anniversary, it's going to be a doozie, with 50,000 fans expected. "Elvis Week 1997," Aug. 9-17, will include the usual candlelight vigils and fan club auctions, but also dozens of concerts and parties (including one for fan club presidents only -- there are 550) and Elvis-theme tours.
I wanted to see Elvis' Memphis, but I didn't have a week and didn't want to fight the crowds. So I did it my way: three days of Elvis immersion.
It started with Graceland on Elvis Presley Boulevard. Before this 14-acre estate became the center of the Elvis universe, attracting 700,000 people a year, and the Versailles of American pop culture, a prominent doctor lived here. Elvis bought it when he was just 22 years old for $100,000 -- cash. By today's celebrity standards, the stately mansion with white columns looks modest.
"It's not that big," a woman mutters to her husband as the tour bus empties at the front door. "Our house is bigger than this."
Maybe so, Ma'am, but does your home have three TV sets in a neon-yellow, mirrored den? Shag-carpeted walls? A fountain gurgling in the Jungle Room?
Inside heaven
Now entering Graceland, time capsule from the 1970s.
This is an Elvisphile's idea of heaven. You waltz through the singer's pool room, kitchen and trophy rooms, you board his private jets, you see his big shiny Cadillacs, his rhinestone jumpsuits and his cologne (Brut) and you hear his wife, Priscilla, fondly recall Elvis getting up for breakfast -- at 4 in the afternoon.
You see the man's many sides and sizes, from his early wiggles to his later jiggles. There's deputy Elvis, who collected law-enforcement badges from around the country. Generous Elvis, who bought 13 Cadillacs for his friends one year. Hungry Elvis, who once flew to Denver in the middle of the night for a snack. And dead-eye Elvis, who didn't just shoot TVs for target practice -- he also shot books, stereos and swing sets.
In the Meditation Garden where Elvis is buried along with his family, the fans huddle in silence.
Your Elvis credit card (applications available in the ticket lobby) doesn't stand a chance. At Graceland Plaza you can Elvisessorize your life with Elvis stamps, pens, shirts, scarves, watches, glasses, ties and don't forget the Elvisopoly board game (Land on the pink Cadillac and it's yours! But don't get drafted!). Take the interactive CD-ROM tour where you shoot on Elvis' pool table and turn on his TVs. Or blow your entire credit limit on a replica of Elvis' black Gibson guitar ($5,000).
My visit to Graceland wasn't complete, though, until I encountered my first Elvis impersonator. With his sculpted jet-black hair, gold sunglasses and gold "TCB" ring and necklace (Elvis' logo: "Taking Care of Business"), James Boyd was a bigger hit than Mickey Mouse at Disneyland.
PBB sandwich
After Graceland, I made like a hound dog on the Elvis trail. To Lauderdale Courts, the public-housing project where he lived as a boy. To Sun Studio, where I heard his very first recording, cradled one of the microphones he once used and at the cafe next door ate a grilled peanut butter and banana sandwich, Elvis' favorite. To Playhouse on the Square, formerly the Memphian theater, which Elvis rented out so that he and his buddies, the Memphis Mafia, could watch westerns all night. An armrest in the center aisle near the back -- seat 11, row J -- bears his name.
