Graceland, Elvis' Memphis mansion, was opened to tourists by his daughter and sole heir, Lisa Marie, following her father's death at the age of 42 on Aug. 16, 1977. The mansion, in a shabby, older section of Memphis minutes from the Mississippi state line, sits on 14 acres, behind iron gates with a musical logo and a brick wall dotted with graffiti.
The curious and the faithful start lining up to catch the first shuttles to Graceland before 8:30 in the morning, even though the tours aren't officially underway until 9:00.
The crowd waiting to get in is a curious
blend of ages and social stations: old men with ponderous bellies wearing black dress socks with their Bermuda shorts, their wives sporting hair dyed improbable shades of blue-gray; middle-aged couples sporting camera wrapped,
bandolero style, around their necks; harried young mothers and fathers trying to corral younger children clearly bored with the wait. Some are fans, some are merely curious, but they all want to see the home where the man who
is called "The King of Rock and Roll" lived and died.
The platinum tour costs $25 for adults, with discounts for seniors and students. It includes a chance to wind one's way through some of the downstairs rooms in the
mansion in a conga line that creeps in starts and fits, moved along by the dozens of uniformed young people who work for the estate.
The estate is a huge and complex thing: it employs hundreds who work manicuring the
grounds, reciting the litany of do's and don'ts to visitors, handing out headsets, selling Elvis-themed boxer shorts behind the counters of the multitude of Elvis souvenir shops that buttress the exhibits. It's an odd mixture of
hero-worship and greed, holding up the shy country boy who made it big as a demi-god, while hawking playing cards that proclaim, "Elvis has left the building."
Visitors to Graceland board buses that depart every couple of
minutes from a visitor's center directly across the street from the mansion. The center hosts a half dozen ticket counters with lines that stretch across the room to a rows of seats in front of a closed-circuit television that
plays scenes from one of Elvis' concerts. Outside, buses depart with regularity – but only after visitors are kept waiting long enough to wander through two or three of the dozen or so gift shops that dot the grounds of the center
complex.
Once on board, the Elvis pilgrims don headsets that explain what they're seeing, narrated in a tone of voice that suggests the visitor is on hallowed ground. The comments are interspersed with that of Elvis progeny
Lisa Marie reminiscing about her famous dad, talking about the dozens of members of the "Memphis Mafia" who hung around the Presley mansion or her own memories of her father "rattling" with jewelry as he walked down the main
staircase in Graceland.
Inside, visitors witness an extravagant lifestyle that screams 70s excess: lots of vinyl, thick shag carpet, avocado green and harvest gold appliances, mirrors and faux fur adorn the rooms open to
the public. The upstairs, Lisa Marie says, were private and restricted to family, although a glimpse of Elvis' parents first floor bedroom is provided to the public.
Some of the rooms in both the mansion and outbuildings
have been changed into exhibits holding samplings of Elvis' rhinestone-covered costumes, gold records and tour memorabilia. The hall where the records and some of Elvis' awards are housed is a reminder of just how famous this man
was and how much he impacted the music world. It extends for what seems like forever, every inch of the walls covered with metallic discs and awards.
Outbuildings, like the office where Elvis' secretaries answered the
avalanche of mail he received each week, his handball court and indoor firing range, are also stops on the tour and visitors can gawk at the horses kept on the estate, along with Lisa Marie's rusting swing set. The biggest draw,
however, is the spot near the swimming pool where Elvis, his parents and grandmother are buried beneath huge bronze plates. Floral tributes to the family are scattered about, while a small sign explains these are offerings from
fans from the world over.
Across the street, flanking the visitor center are the Sincerely Elvis Museum, two of Elvis' airplanes and his car museum. The Sincerely Elvis Museum, which holds fan memorabilia, has several
interesting displays, such as the one focusing on Lisa Marie's childhood, as well as the singer's career highlights and some of the press coverage about Elvis. The car display holds Elvis' famous pink Cadillac, in which his mom,
Gladys, loved to ride, as well as the Lincoln Continental with the gold vinyl roof and custom backdoors. Elvis' Ferrari and former wife Priscilla's white Mercedes – a gift from her husband – are also housed there.
Two of
Elvis' planes – including the Lisa Marie – are on public display. The Lisa Marie, which boasts shag carpeting, a private bedroom, shower and communications system that was state-of-the-art in the 70s, offers a glimpse
into how the rich and famous lived 30 years ago.
Among the more fascinating exhibits in the Graceland tour are Priscilla's and Elvis' wedding outfits, the famous kitchen that was the center of much of the action in the
Presley household and some of the cancelled checks showcasing Elvis' charitable contributions.
Elvis was known, especially around Memphis, to be very generous and the wall documenting his charitable nature makes it obvious
he used his millions for more than rhinestones. His daughter has continued that tradition by endowing a scholarship in her father's name and supporting a charitable foundation bearing Elvis' name that aids low-income families.
The idea would undoubtedly appeal to Elvis, who was born in poverty in Tupelo, Miss. His family moved to Memphis while he was young and he attended Hume High School there before starting on a career that would
eventually lead him to riches and almost mythical status.
The week of Aug. 16th, when Elvis died from what is believed to have been a drug-related heart attack in Graceland's master bathroom, sees
thousands of Elvis fans from all over the globe descend on Memphis.
Locals – who irreverently refer to the event as "Dead Elvis Week" – say there's not a hotel room available in the city during that period and
midnight, candlelight vigils at Elvis' mansion are the norm.
The city's connection to the Elvis phenomenon is a love/hate relationship. Memphis residents love the money – and the tourists – Graceland and the Elvis name
bring. At the same time, the almost religious fervor possessed by Elvis' fans is viewed with amusement and, sometimes, annoyance. But that doesn't stop nearly everyone, from the hotel bellhop to cab drivers, from having a story
about Elvis. It seems everyone in Memphis either knew him or his parents or knows someone who else who did.
The estate also owns a restaurant and a hotel and sells every imaginable Elvis item in the honeycomb of shops that
crowd around the museum and other Elvis exhibits. Inside the shops, Elvis jewelry, sunglasses, underwear, candles, cards, bumper stickers, beach towels, key chains, potholders, pictures, posters, hats, baby outfits, blankets,
commemorative coins, books, CDs, 45s and everything Elvis are sold by the tractor trailer load. And the prices are enough to give pause: a votive candle in a glass container that would sell for about $2, goes for nearly $8 because
Elvis' name is on it. Being an Elvis fan apparently isn't cheap.
But keeping his memory alive is very lucrative – and if one doesn't believe that, try standing in line for an hour watching the crowds ebb and flow into the
Elvis stores, onto the Elvis shuttles and through the Elvis museum. At $25 per adult, it's obvious Elvis' estate ain't no hound dog at all – it's a fat cat licking the cream off it's whiskers.
