The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Memories of King linger 40 years later
Elvis Week 2017 promises to be biggest observance ever.
Two days after Elvis Presley’s 1977 funeral, 40 years ago this month, Memphis felt a bit like after the circus has moved on.
The media horde had departed, but folks who knew and loved the King of Rock ’n’ Roll were still there wanting to share their stories.
That’s where I came in, as a reporter for this newspaper seeking hometown Elvis memories.
Swinging by Graceland, I found some German tourists making home movies outside the ornate gates of the mansion where Elvis died, but not much else. I had better luck at the other end of Elvis’ timeline, 100 miles away in Tupelo, Mississippi., at the Elvis Presley Birthplace. It was a typical Southern Depression-era white-frame shotgun house sitting on blocks, with a green tarpaper roof and tin-topped chimney. As Billie Boyd, the birthplace director, told me, “You can’t walk through this little house and not absorb the vast difference in it and Graceland.”
I talked with Guy Harris, a Tupelo police captain who’d grown up with Presley. Harris recalled Elvis as a bit spoiled and something of a mama’s boy, but said he “got along well with other kids.” He said Elvis used to sing a lot, “but we never noticed his singing any better than anybody else.”
Just down the road from the birthplace, I found the home of Elvis’ fifth-grade teacher, Mrs. J.C. Grimes. Her recollections of Elvis’ singing ability were more memorable. She recalled getting the principal to take Elvis to the Mississippi-Alabama Fair to enter a singing contest. He won second
prize, $5.
I was walking down the dirt road back toward the birthplace when a big goldcolored Cadillac pulled up. A woman with a beehive hairdo rolled down the window and told me to get in.
The woman, Janelle McComb, had heard I was in town looking to talk about Elvis. She said she’d been a close friend since he was 4 years old. I was a bit skeptical until she showed me a big photo album full of shots of her and Elvis backstage in Las Vegas. She talked a while about him, getting emotional, but she didn’t want to be quoted.
Back in Memphis, I tried to track down Ginger Alden, Elvis’ 20-year-old beauty queen fiancée at the time of his death. She wasn’t taking calls, but I chatted with her mother, Jo, who talked about how the in-person Elvis contrasted with the onstage performer, who “wasn’t as witty as he was in private.”
Sam Phillips, the owner of Sun Records, who discovered Elvis, wasn’t available, but I found Knox, his son, who was 11 years old when Elvis first hit it big. He remembered Presley making an impression on him right from the start, with his long hair, sideburns and pink-and-black clothing.
“Elvis was a strange animal for the times,” he said. “I remember one day at the studio, I went in with my mother, and Jerry Lee Lewis was playing piano, which Elvis always loved, and he and Elvis were doing some old gospel songs, and here I walked in with my hair in a ducktail, just like Elvis, and he came over and hugged me and said, ‘Knox, stay with me son, stay with me.’ And, you know, I did.”
Onetime “Memphis Mafia” member Allan Fortas, a nephew of former U.S. Supreme Court Justice Abe Fortas, talked with me about Elvis’ generosity. “He’d read about some high school kid who was having financial problems, and that night he’d go over to their home and give them some money. He used to say, ‘What good is having money if you can’t spread it around?’”
Most of the people I tracked down who’d had contact with Elvis portrayed him not as the lonely, brooding drug abuser as he appeared in “Elvis: What Happened,” a tell-all book by some former Elvis aides, but as a generous, God-fearing man. Their memories were told with the warmth usually reserved for talking about a family member.
I heard a lot about Elvis’ kindness, like his penchant for giving away Cadillacs.
So, I went to Madison Cadillac, where they told me Elvis bought more than 100 Cadillacs in about a 10-year period, “and gave most of them away.” He would come to the showroom after hours with some cohorts to pick out the models they wanted. “One night,” dealer Nat Gilmore remembered, “he bought 13 Cadillacs as Christmas presents.”
I got on the phone with Marian Cocke, who started out as one of those strangers who was a recipient of Elvis’ generosity, but ended up as a close friend. She nursed him during his last three stays at Baptist Memorial Hospital. In return Elvis gave her quite a few gifts, including a car.
“He always wanted me to stay with him at the hospital at night,” she said, “so I would pull my regular shift, go home and fix supper for my family, and then go back to stay with him. I wouldn’t accept any money from him at all. I just did it because it pleased him.”
She last saw Elvis three weeks before his death, but she talked to him on the phone the morning he died.
“He was a good boy. I really do miss him,” Cocke said, her voice quavering. “But, it’s like they say, when you live in the heart of those you love, you never die, and I don’t think Elvis will ever really die. I feel about him like I felt when my mother died last year. He’s not really dead. He’s just moved to a better town.”