Celebrating Elvis, Jailhouse Rock style. (Photo courtesy Frank Murtaugh).
I miss Elvis Presley this time of year. The older I get — currently 53 — the younger Elvis was (42) when he died. So yes, Elvis Week grabs my heartstrings, from the tribute artists to the candlelight vigil, from the random t-shirts (Elvis with Bigfoot?) to the Elvis Presley 5K . . . a distance I’m rather certain the King never ran himself. There’s irony, of course, in “missing” Elvis Presley, as his presence — particularly in Memphis, Tennessee — couldn’t be greater, even if he were alive and well at age 87.
Elvis was a meteor. All of 23 years passed between the day he first walked into Sun Studio (in 1954) and the day he died at Graceland (in 1977). Compared with the performing and recording life span of the Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan, or even my band of choice, KISS, “the Elvis Presley years” were the entertainment equivalent of a novella: just enough of a teaser to make you want more story, more adventure, more thrills.
I grew up with an Elvis story, as my dad met him (in the basement of Katz Drug Store) in September 1956, just a few days after Presley’s appearance on The Ed Sullivan Show, among the moments that made this particular meteor soar. Dad was but 14 when they shook hands, Elvis only 21. When I first listened to Elvis songs as a child, I was listening to a King my dad knew. That’s the way I saw things.
August 16, 1977, is among the earliest days of my life I can distinctly remember. I was eight years old and my family had recently returned to the States after a year in Italy. We were visiting my grandmother — Dad’s mom — at her Central Gardens home when news broke, first that Elvis had been rushed to Baptist Memorial Hospital, then that the most famous man on the planet (maybe second to Muhammad Ali) had died. This was my first experience with death, someone I “knew” . . . dying. Even at a still-tender age, I knew 42 years was not a long life.
Elvis, of course, has lived beyond the dates on his famous tombstone. This summer’s most talked-about movie makes that quite clear. My daughter Elena is not a moviegoer, but she made time from a busy work schedule to see director Baz Luhrmann’s Elvis with me. (“Elena, you and Elvis are both from Memphis, and you both have five-letter names that start with E-L.” Eye roll.) My older daughter, Sofia, took a picture of Elvis with her to New England for four years of college, a photo that can now be found at her apartment in Honolulu. She’s also been spotted in a dress adorned with Elvis imagery from the movie Jailhouse Rock. Aloha from Hawaii, indeed.
The point is that Elvis has found life among multiple generations since 1977, and there’s no indication his popularity has plateaued. (Remember, Elvis Presley has now been gone longer than he lived.) The only candlelight vigil I’ve experienced in full — with Sofia in 2016 — was under a Biblical rainstorm. But nobody went home. The line didn’t move . . . until the Graceland gates were finally opened. We had our ponchos to stay somewhat dry, and a kind couple from Sweden lit our candles as we walked up the driveway to the meditation garden, to pay our respects. Sure, it was somber strolling past a man’s grave. But it was also, somehow, energizing. This one man, in merely 42 years, left a mark we choose to honor every August . . . deluge or dry.
I grew up loving “Hound Dog,” “Jailhouse Rock,” and “Burning Love.” But my favorite Elvis song has become “If I Can Dream.” “As long as a man has the strength to dream, He can redeem his soul and fly.” Elvis famously sang this during his ’68 Comeback Special, and I’m not sure his voice sounds more alive in any other recording. So yes, I miss Elvis this time of year. But when I find myself dreaming, as we all do, I often think of him. And that helps me fly.
One of the greatest ironies of Elvis Week in Memphis is that the joint most likely to conjure up the vibe of The King’s reign here is a place Elvis Presley almost never visited. But don’t think less of the place for it: That was just because it was a bar. “Priscilla [Presley] said Elvis and the Memphis Mafia never went there because Elvis didn’t like anybody drinking. He didn’t really go in there after the ’50s,” says the bar’s co-owner, singer/songwriter/guitarist Dale Watson.
Of course, that’s a dead giveaway that we’re talking about Hernando’s Hide-a-Way, just a mile or so up Elvis Presley Boulevard from Graceland. Since its soft reopening in late 2019, Watson has helped captain the club that was a legendary hangout for nearly every other Memphis musician except Elvis, and in so doing, has helped keep the spirit of Elvis alive there. That’s partly because, as Watson freely admits, “I’m such an Elvis fanatic.”
That will be most apparent on August 16th, the precise anniversary of The King’s death, when Watson takes to the Hernando’s stage to perform numbers from his 2014 album, Dalevis, as well as from a much earlier self-released EP of the same name. But don’t expect the singer to become a “tribute act”: Watson is an artist in his own right, and his Dalevis repertoire mainly consists of originals. “My Dalevis set consists of songs I’ve written that were inspired by Elvis. And then I mix in Elvis songs as well.” Indeed, the songwriter confesses, Elvis is never far away from his music. “On the new record that I just cut in Nashville, I recorded ‘Nothingville’. Remember that song? Most people don’t because it was done in passing on the ’68 special. It’s just a snippet in a medley, and it’s only on that NBC ‘Comeback Special’ album [the 1968 RCA LP, Elvis].”
No doubt that number will find its way into Watson’s set on the 16th, as well as other Presley tracks. Indeed, all of The King’s output falls neatly into what Watson calls the “Ameripolitan” sound. “The good thing about Ameripolitan is, it not only covers rockabilly and Elvis’ early stuff, but also the honky tonk stuff he did in the later years, like his country hits. There’s even some covers Elvis did that he made his own, that we play, too. Like ‘Good Time Charlie’s Got The Blues.’ His version is my favorite recording of that song.”
For Watson, that mix of genres is true to the spirit of this city. “Memphis in general fits that whole thing,” he says. “Memphis has it all. And of course during Elvis week, we’re going to be promoting Ameripolitan coming up in February.” That’s when Hernando’s will host the Ameripolitan Music Awards festival, devoted to “music with a prominent roots influence.”
In keeping with that aesthetic, Hernando’s other star on the 16th will be none other than Jason D. Williams. If Williams conjures strong echoes of Jerry Lee Lewis, he too is an artist in his own right. The way Watson sees it, the unique identity that he and Williams embody is the point. “John Lennon said that ‘One’s inability to imitate their influences, that’s where originality lies,’” quips Watson. “Even with these Elvis tribute acts, when they’re trying to imitate Elvis, they have their own originality in their inability to completely imitate him.”
Even those latter artists will have their moment at Hernando’s, when the club hosts “Images of the King,” a well-curated show of Elvis tribute acts, from Saturday, August 11th, until Monday, August 15th. But what cinches Hernando’s claim to the Presley vibe is Priscilla Presley’s fondness for the place, ever since she dropped by the club in 2020. “It was on his birthday,” Watson recalls. “She’s been there several times since. And she’s gonna try to come in there that Tuesday [August 16th]. Of course I’m sure with that Elvis movie, things have been kicked up a notch, a little bit like they used to be. She’s got to play it by ear. But she likes the place a lot and she told us that it gives her the vibe of old Memphis.”
Austin Butler’s performance as Elvis is electrifying.
The most insightful film I’ve ever seen about Elvis Presley is “The Singing Canary,” a five-minute experimental short by Memphis director Adam Remsen. It contains neither images of Elvis nor his music, only footage of astronauts and rocket launches. Remsen’s voice-over casts Elvis not as a singer or entertainer or idol, but as an explorer of new psychic spaces.
Yes, Elvis was supremely talented, superhumanly good looking, and unbelievably charismatic. But it was sheer luck that he came along at exactly the moment in history when a combination of rhythm and blues, amphetamines, and television could transform a penniless truck driver into the most famous person who had ever lived. “No one had ever been in his position before. He did the best he could,” said Remsen. “He was just living his life, making the best choices he could. As it happened, he was unprepared to make those choices, in one way or another.”
Who could have been prepared? The only people who had been as famous as Elvis circa 1957 were pharaohs. A decade later, The Beatles would express relief that, when they were thrown into the maelstrom of modern fame, at least they had one another. Elvis was alone, going through stuff no one in the entire 300,000-year history of Homo sapiens had ever gone through before. “He was the singing canary we sent into the gold mine. And when the singing stopped, we learned it was dangerous in there.”
The latest big screen attempt to tell The King’s story shares this view of Elvis as a martyr for the information age. Baz Luhrmann is one of a handful of directors with an instantly recognizable style. As technically exacting as he is bombastic, Luhrmann’s films are the closest thing we have to the lavish MGM musicals of Old Hollywood. Emotions are heightened, the cutting is frenetic, and realism is an afterthought. Music and montage are Luhrmann’s love language, and everything else is in service of maintaining the momentum. When he’s on his game, Luhrmann can sweep you up and transport you to another place like the tornado in The Wizard of Oz.
This film rises above the simple jukebox musical I feared we would get when I heard Luhrmann was taking on the story of The King. Credit for much of its success must go to Austin Butler, who has the unenviable task of trying to bring to life the most impersonated man in history. On the Louisiana Hayride and at the triumphant July 4, 1956, Russwood Park homecoming show, Butler is electrifying. He’s got the cheekbones, and he knows how to use them.
Austin Butler as Elvis Presley.
The racial politics of the era are never far from the surface. In Luhrmann’s vision, Elvis’ smoking-hot sexuality was what made him dangerous. But what scared The Establishment about this poor white kid singing Black music was not how he danced — it was that Elvis represented a crack in the South’s Jim Crow apartheid. He didn’t just laugh at the minstrel show; he identified with B.B. King, Sister Rosetta Tharpe, and Little Richard. Some of the white kids who followed him would go on to discover The Bar-Kays, Sam Cooke, and Aretha Franklin, and begin to think, “Hey, maybe these Black people are humans, just like me.”
But the protean summer of ’56, which has for so long formed the fetish of rock-and-roll, doesn’t interest Luhrmann as much as the Vegas era. It begins with an elaborate staging of the ’68 Comeback Special. Instead of focusing on the in-the-round jam session, which remains one of the greatest live musical performances ever put before a camera, Luhrmann finds meaning in Elvis’ selection of “If I Can Dream” as his closing number. Butler delivers the moment with maximum gravitas.
Col. Tom Parker (Tom Hanks) advises Elvis (Austin Butler).
Luhrmann’s most polarizing decision is to tell the story from Col. Tom Parker’s perspective — and not just because of Tom Hanks’ accent. Having the villain as the narrator is a very Shakespearean choice, intended to make Parker into Iago, a malignant influence confiding to us about the lies he’s whispering in the hero’s ear. Parker was the consummate confidence man and a natural-born carny barker. In the early days, he and Elvis were an unstoppable team. When Elvis was languishing in Vegas, it would have been better if he were alone. Parker gets the blame for Elvis sitting out the Civil Rights fights of the late ’60s and for missing opportunities to tour the world. He gets credit for the groundbreaking Aloha from Hawaii concert, the definitive document of Elvis’ late period. But Luhrmann declines to use the first satellite broadcast to a global audience of one billion as a climax, like Queen at Live Aid in Bohemian Rhapsody. As for Hanks’ performance as the shady Dutch immigrant, let’s just say that the veteran actor knows when to put the ham on the sandwich.
Elvis (Austin Bulter) and Priscilla (Olivia DeJonge).
The standouts in the sprawling supporting cast include Helen Thomson’s sad turn as the alcoholic Gladys and Olivia DeJonge’s uncanny Priscilla. The Power of the Dog’s Kodi Smit-McPhee gets a standout cameo as Jimmie Rodgers Snow, one of the first people to understand the depth of Elvis’ power. During the early film’s frequent digressions into the Beale Street music scene, Yola Quartey and Shonka Dukureh each get show-stopping moments as Sister Rosetta Tharpe and Big Mama Thornton.
Ultimately, your reaction to Elvis is going to depend on whether or not you can vibrate on Luhrmann’s frequency. I was a fan of the director’s early work, like Romeo + Juliet, but found The Great Gatsby off-putting and snoozed through Australia. Elvis is a return to the explosive Luhrmann of Moulin Rouge. He freely twists the songs, sometimes in ways that are insightful, and sometimes in ways that betray a lack of trust in the material, like using anachronistic hip-hop beats whenever we return to Beale. The film is massively overstuffed with striking images, but that kind of sounds like complaining because you have too many scoops of delicious ice cream. It’s understandable if you find the constant barrage of visual information disorienting or the constant dance on the edge of camp cloying. But when Elvis is on stage, and Luhrmann is on fire, you understand why The King will live forever.
Michael Donahue tries a Smoked BBQ Bologna sandwich at Tops Bar-B-Q. (Credit: Morgan Leslie)
I was having lunch with Elvis at a Tops Bar-B-Q on Summer Avenue when I noticed a sign announcing the restaurant’s new “Smoked BBQ Bologna.”
First of all, I wasn’t actually eating with Elvis, of course. I was dining at a booth beneath a photo of the King, who was wearing a shiny (silk?) jacket, black pants, loafers, and light-colored socks while kneeling in front of a pink Cadillac. The car actually had the letters “TCB,” which look like chrome, on the front. The license plate sign says “1957.”
When I eat at Tops, I think of growing up in the 1950s and smelling barbecue cooking in the pit when my family drove by a Tops location.
Over the years, Tops, which opened in 1952, has served its fantastic barbecue with sauce and slaw and its incredibly-good hamburgers. I remember when they began selling brisket sandwiches and ribs 17 years ago. They began selling turkey burgers, one of my all-time favorite fast food items, 10 years ago. I have it dressed like the hamburger with mayonnaise, ketchup, and mustard.
But a new food item at Tops is rare. Smoked BBQ Bologna is the first new Tops item in 10 years.
I talked to Tops Operations LLC vice-president Hunter Brown and CEO Randy Hough about the new Smoked BBQ Bologna sandwich, which launched in April — just in time for Tops’ 70th birthday..
Smoked BBQ Bologna Sandwich at Tops Bar-B-Que (Credit: Michael Donahue)
A barbecue bologna sandwich is “a Memphis staple,” Brown says. So, they decided Tops should have one. “We saw the need from our guests. And we heard their voice. When you hear so many guests give their thoughts and ask, ‘Why don’t you have something,’ you’ve got to pay attention. That’s why Tops has been successful for 70 years.”
“New items have been few and far between here at Tops,” Hough says. And, he adds, “We’ve been hesitant to add new things to our menu line.”
Their “focus is on barbecue and hamburgers” and they want to “stay true” to those items.
Hunter Brown and Randy Hough. (Credit: Lynn Hantz)
They cook their barbecue over a direct fire pit. “A lot of barbecue companies don’t do that. They use smokers instead.”
Tops also uses charcoal and hickory wood. “Everything you think about in your backyard with your charcoal grill.”
And, he says, “It takes a lot more dedication than to put it in the smoker, set the timer, and walk away.
“We still use a smaller smoker for other items, but not for our core barbecue. It’s cooked in our open fire pit. It takes time and skill to do that.”
They always wanted to do barbecue bologna, Brown says. “We decided to go ahead and test it with some people in the area. Some of our guests.”
They invited a focus group of their customers to try the barbecue bologna last February. People said, “Wow. This is one of the best we’ve had in the city.”
“We score it and season it with our rib rub and then we smoke it. After smoking it, we grill each one to order.”
They then put it on a bun and add their “famous slaw and our signature Tops barbecue sauce.”
They introduced the Smoked BBQ Bologna at their Southaven location. “It was a resounding success across the board.”
Tops’ Olive Branch, Mississippi location announced the new sandwich. (Credit: Michael Donahue)
I visited Tops the next day and tried a Smoked BBQ Bologna sandwich. It’s delicious.
I told Brown and Hough about smelling the barbecue when I drive past Tops. “It’s kind of like a billboard for us,” Brown says. “Cooking daily to have that smoke coming out. To have that rolling smoke. Even if you’re not on your way to Tops, it just lures you in.”
The aroma, which emanates from the chimney tops, “just gets you hungry,” Hough says. And, he adds, “You’re cooking them over an open fire with hickory wood and charcoal. And you’re going to get that kind of smell. Just like you would in the backyard.”
As for upcoming new items, Brown says, “We do have some thoughts.” But they don’t want to “take away from the burger and pork sandwiches.”
They’ve tried some items, which they tested internally or at other locations, that never made it out, Hough says. For example, they had a fried pie, made by a small business in Arkansas. But the pies caused operational issues.
Tops still carries its popular apple turnovers. “That’s a staple. Been with us for a long time. That is a guest favorite.”
Getting back to that guy named Elvis, Brown says the King was a customer at the Tops on Union. “We still today have the Elvis room in there.”
This photo of Elvis hangs in several Tops locations. (Courtesy Tops Bar-B-Q)
Elvis also ate at “Summer and National and Thomas as well, but Union was where he spent most of his time.”
George Montague, who was Tops general manager for 45 years, is a “big fan of Elvis.”
While they’ve got some photos of Elvis at Tops, none picture him holding a barbecue or hamburger, Brown says. “Every time I see him, he’s got a soda in his hand.” But he knows Elvis ate the food at Tops, too.
The late J. W. Lawson was founder and the late George Messick was the second generation owner of Tops, which now has 16 locations, and continues to grow.
All locations sell the new Smoked BBQ Bologna sandwich.
Says Brown: “It was originally intended to be a limited time offer, but the city of Memphis has voted with their feedback — and their stomachs. Smoked BBQ Bologna is here to stay.”
Priscilla Presley will be honored at a black tie celebration, “Priscilla Presley: The Artist, The Woman,” July 22nd at Theatre Memphis.
“This is a community thank you to Priscilla for all she has done for the Memphis community,” says Dabney Coors, Theatre Memphis board member and a friend of Priscilla, who was married to Elvis Presley.
The evening will include a formal presentation in the theater with music followed by a dinner and music in the lobby.
“I truly am honored by this,” Priscilla says in a phone interview. “Gosh. I’m a little overwhelmed because I love Memphis. I love the city. I love Tennessee.”
And, she says, “I never expected this. It’s just taken me back a bit.”
Coors, immediate past president of the Theatre Memphis board, came up with the idea for the celebration. “The idea has been in my head for the last eight years,” Coors says. “I said to Priscilla when she opened the Guest House (at Graceland), ‘Priscilla, you give and give and give to Memphis. And one day we’re going to turn this around and we’re going to give to you.’”
Why this year? “Because this is the 40th anniversary of Priscilla opening Graceland,” Coors says. “She saved Graceland from being sold. When she was 34 years old and she became the executor of the estate, it fell to her to decide what to do with Graceland. And the bankers, the lawyers, and the IRS told her she had one option and that was to sell.
Says Priscilla: “When I was told that, I made a comment: ‘That will never happen.’ And those were fighting words for me. I searched for someone who could help me. I had a lot of people to choose from.”
She looked “from New York to Kansas City to here in Los Angeles. And Jack Soden (president and CEO of Elvis Presley Enterprises), for me, was the best as far as helping me open it up. And here we are today. And thank God he is still with us and a wonderful partner.”
“She has brought 22 million international tourists to Memphis,” Coors says. “And impacted our Memphis economy more than six billion dollars over 40 years. Every queen, president, and rock and roll star who comes anywhere close to Memphis wants to go to Graceland. Graceland is considered the second most famous home in America after the White House.”
Priscilla says, “When we opened Graceland, I never thought it would be the success that it is today. And people of all ages are coming to Graceland.”
One of her missions is to bring younger people to Elvis, she says. “You know our generation loved and cared for Elvis. My concern was that the younger generation learn and know who Elvis Presley was.”
Now, that generation is “passing it down to the next generation. Keeping the Elvis tours at Graceland certainly helped. People can’t believe his accomplishments.”
She and Elvis had “a wonderful relationship,” Priscilla says. “We never had the normal divorce. We still remained friends and cared for each other very much.”
Priscilla now lives in California, but she says, “I do not really consider California a part of me. Both my kids were born here and they live here. That’s the only reason I stick around. If I had my choice, I would be there in a minute. I would. I miss Memphis. I miss my friends. I miss the laughs. I miss the stories.”
When she comes to Memphis, Priscilla likes to “go over to The Peabody hotel and hang out a little in there. Get a bite to eat and go over to Lansky’s. Check in and see how they’re doing. It’s always nice to keep the friends you had from the beginning.”
As a non-profit, Theatre Memphis has to raise money for the event, Coors says, and they already have 50 sponsors. “Memphis has stepped up.”
Debbie Litch, Theatre Memphis executive producer, says, “Theatre Memphis is privileged and honored to pay tribute to Memphis’ national and international ambassador Priscilla Presley.”
And, she says, “As Theatre Memphis celebrates our 100th anniversary on May 20, 2022 as one of the nation’s most recognized and oldest community theaters in the nation, we want to recognize an extraordinary lady who has championed our Memphis community for over a half century.
“We are also excited to establish the Priscilla Presley Theatre Memphis Scholarship that will be awarded annually in honor of this outstanding woman to help an established or aspiring artist to achieve their artistic dream.”
Tickets are $300 apiece. Other seats will be reserved for the “community member status” section.
Among the entertainers taking part in the event will be Gary Beard, John Paul Keith, and Mario Monterosso. A special VIP area will be included.
For tickets and more information, call Theatre Memphis at (901) 682-8323.
Tommy Kha’s Constellations
VIII (Courtesy: Tommy Kha)
Tommy Kha has always had trouble in airports. The Memphis-born, New York-based fine art photographer uses a variety of props in his photographs — life-sized cardboard cutouts, Greek busts, improbable kitsch baubles — all of which make for peculiar carry-on luggage. Passing through airport security on his way to photo shoots across the country, Kha would often have to have what he terms “the conversation” with Transportation Security Administration agents. “I got the most responses when I was carrying 3-D printed plastic masks of my face,” Kha told the Memphis Flyer. TSA agents would become suspicious when they discovered the lifelike masks peering out of Kha’s baggage. Kha would hurry to explain to the officers: “It’s for art!”
In recent weeks, Kha once again found himself having to explain his artwork in an airport. Only this time, Kha’s work wasn’t hidden in luggage, but displayed in large format on the airport walls. And this time, “the conversation” played out on an international stage, between livid social media posts, corporate boardrooms, and in the press. The firestorm over Kha’s photo series, Constellations VIII/Golden Fields, led to the artwork’s removal and subsequent reinstallation within a week. It garnered the Memphis International Airport accusations of censorship and racism and roped in such unlikely players as the mayor of Memphis, the host of an HGTV show, The Advocate magazine, a notable Hollywood film director, and the CEO of Memphis’ largest tourist business.
The removal of Tommy Kha’s Constellations VIII/Golden Fields from Concourse B inspired national outcry. (Photo: Jon Sparks)Photo: Jamie Harmon
It might be difficult to explain why Kha’s photos elicited such a dramatic public response to anyone not from Memphis, but Memphians will have no problem understanding. Kha’s photographs depicted Elvis Presley. Memphians know that whenever Elvis is involved, there’s a high chance of — to quote the artist Don Lifted from his social media post about the controversy — “Memphis Memphis’ing.”
A New Symbol and an Old Icon
In early March, Jon Daly arrived at the newly renovated Memphis International Airport to catch a flight to Denver. Daly, who owns the nearby Elvis Presley Boulevard Pawn Shop, was excited to see the airport’s new Concourse B. The $245 million project both downsized and modernized an airport that, in its previous incarnation, more closely resembled an off-hours bus station than an international flight destination. Once a busy hub, Memphis International has struggled in recent years with declining crowds, a loss that airport CEO Scott Brockman described to The New York Times in 2018 as “death by a thousand cuts.” Brockman feared that the decline of the airport symbolized something greater to Memphians, about the transformation of the city from a bustling urban center to a place that no longer felt like “a real city.” Concourse B was an attempt not only to save the airport as a functional utility but to renew the airport as a symbol of a resilient Memphis.
The remodel opened in January 2022 to much praise. The renovation replaced low ceilings and beige brick with soaring glass galleries. Gleaming restaurants and stylish gift shops operate amid spacious gate seating. The crowning jewel of Concourse B, occupying nearly every square foot of wall, is a million dollar contemporary art collection sourced from predominantly local visual artists. The tourism blog ILoveMemphisBlog.com called the art collection “The coolest part of the new terminal.”
When Jon Daly arrived at Memphis International for his trip, he expected to be impressed. Daly travels frequently around the country in search of Elvis Presley-related memorabilia and archival material for his shop. His business in Whitehaven is near both Graceland and the airport; when he’s not listening to Elvis records, he is listening to the drone of planes flying low. “Being a big Elvis fan, I was excited to see how they would honor Elvis in the airport,” said Daly. As he progressed through the concourse, however, he became frustrated. “I didn’t see Elvis in the airport. I did see this artwork, and I’ve got to be honest, it was very disheartening.”
The artwork that Daly saw was Kha’s. The piece consists of two photographs. The first — Constellations VIII, installed as a large vinyl sheet directly on the wall — is a self-portrait of Kha dressed in a white bejeweled Elvis-style jumpsuit and red scarf, standing in a blue retro kitchen. Kha’s black hair is twisted into a gelled pompadour. He stands impassively behind a table, looking neither elated nor upset and appearing strangely flat. The flatness derives from the fact that the Kha in the photo is in fact a cardboard cutout of Kha, a prop of himself that he made to insert in his photos. The second photo, Golden Fields, is installed in a small frame set within the first photo. It features a red room and another cardboard cutout, this one a golden Elvis Presley, lying prone in gold sheets.
These were not the photos of Elvis that Daly had imagined. He was expecting to see Elvis in an iconic light. He wanted a figure closer to the one he’d first admired as a 6-year-old, a wax sculpture in a museum in Myrtle Beach. There, Elvis was dressed in his Aloha in Hawaii getup, complete with a floor-length white cape. To the 6-year-old Daly, Elvis looked like “a superhero” at a time when Daly needed a superhero. Growing up in rural Ohio, he had what he describes as “a rough early life” and Elvis’ gospel music and movies helped get him through. Said Daly, “I would come home and put on Elvis on Tour or Girl Happy. And then it would be okay.” In 1999, he went to his first Elvis Week and met friends who “are more like family now.” These days, Daly is an informal figurehead for Elvis fans and collectors internationally. He lives in Memphis, runs his own Elvis festival, and has a sizable online following of other Elvis aficionados.
After seeing Kha’s photograph in the airport, Daly did what people do when they want to air grievances — he posted on Facebook. He wrote, “The new $245 million dollar wing of the Memphis airport is nice and new. For those of you flying in for Elvis Week … the city of Memphis has forgotten Elvis fans. I saw no photos of him or Graceland. This however is half of a wall near the bathrooms. What a joke.” He posted an image of Kha’s artwork and tagged the Memphis International Airport in the post.
The post immediately went viral among Elvis fans. Nearly 300 people commented, and many shared it. The comments ranged from confused (“Seriously Jon what does this represent? What is it advertising?” and “Who is that supposed to be in the jumpsuit?”) to livid (“The idiots running Memphis need to realize without Elvis nobody would care about their city!!!!” and “This is disgusting!”) to threatening destruction (“Needs a little spray paint.”)
Comments also involved Kha’s race. A commenter named Karol Donath described Kha as “Kim Jong Un in a poorly made copy of Elvis Stage wear.” In response to a commenter asking, “And what the hell does that picture mean?” a commenter named Alan Wade said “It means they don’t want to offend the black community …” A commenter named Paul Snell asked, “Has the Chinese bought the airport too?” Daly told the Flyer that he attempted to delete “ignorant” comments and does not support racism.
To Daly, Kha’s work was just one more mockery of Elvis that reduced the singer to pop-culture punchline. Daly interpreted the refrigerator in Kha’s photo as a reference to Elvis’ poor eating habits in the last years of his life. He didn’t like the fit of the jumpsuit. But when asked what else, besides the setting, struck him as disrespectful and mocking about the photo, Daly also brought up Kha’s race: “My thought process on that would be, if we were going to go to the Detroit airport, would we have someone who is Asian dressed up as The Temptations? Probably not, because Motown is a very respectable record company. If we were to go to the Nashville airport, would we see someone who is of Asian descent dressed as Dolly Parton? Or Hank Williams Sr.? No, we would not … so if we are not going to do it in Detroit and we are not going to do it in Nashville, why is it okay to represent Elvis in that light?”
Kha looking like he does in the photo — a short Asian man in an ill-fitted, cliched jumpsuit — confirmed to Daly that “Elvis is not viewed as a historic figure” in Memphis. In Daly’s view, there was no way that Kha’s Elvis could be anything other than a mockery. Many fans seemed to share Daly’s sentiment. Within hours, hundreds of Elvis fans from all over the world had flooded the airport authority, Elvis Presley Enterprises, and the city of Memphis with comments demanding the photo’s removal.
The story could have ended there, with a few hundred Elvis fans, upset because their favorite singer didn’t look the way they wanted him to. But it didn’t. Instead, the airport listened.
Tommy Kha as Andy Kaufman as Elvis Minus the Singing
In their evaluation of the photograph, the Elvis fans had gotten one thing wrong. Constellations VIII is not a portrait of Elvis. It is a portrait of Tommy Kha.
Tommy Kha grew up, almost literally, in the shadow of Graceland. He attended Graceland Elementary (which closed in 2013) and remembers school field trips where he and his classmates would walk around the walls where Elvis fans signed their names. As a young person, Kha was “not exactly a fan” of Elvis, but he didn’t have to be. Elvis was everywhere, a fact of life, a figure whose name decorated streets and marked the change in seasons. For Kha, Elvis Week represented the end of summer and the beginning of the school year.
Kha is a second-generation immigrant from a Chinese-American family who came to Memphis following the Vietnam War, when the city opened its doors to refugees. He grew up in a neighborhood that shifted from a white suburb to a predominately Black one following bussing in the 1970s, a place starkly defined by Black and white racial politics. Whitehaven — an enclave of one-story red brick homes with small carports and neat front lawns — is the kind of place that families move to pursue the American Dream. Kha’s family was no different. He attended Overton High School and Memphis College of Art. As a young artist, he often felt invisible but found community in Memphis’ punk art and music scenes. In the late 2000s, it seemed impossible to go to a rock show in Midtown without running into Kha, crouched near the band behind a large camera.
In the years since graduating MCA, his talent carried him far away from Whitehaven. His meticulous formal photography, which takes visual cues from William Eggleston, earned him a place in Yale’s prestigious MFA program. His photos of Memphis build on Eggleston’s colorful vernacular of the South but twist it into the South that Kha knows — one of quiet curtained backrooms that threaten as much as they welcome. Kha’s South is a place where things don’t appear quite as they are or even as they pretend to be, a place where even the facades are fading.
Kha speaks softly and punctuates his sentences with quick laughter. His presence is at once unassuming and unforgettable; once you’ve met Kha, you know him forever. He dresses a little bit like a dandy, in coordinated jackets and ascots. Throughout his life, Kha has made work about his identity — a queer Asian-American man from the South — and work that makes a visual pun of his appearance. In one photograph, he stands in only his underwear next to a towering redhead. In a short video, he slumps on a pool bench next to a powerfully built man flexing his pectoral muscles. He likes unlikely couples and twins, look-alikes, and opposites. Kha knows he doesn’t look like the American masculine ideal, and he uses that knowledge to play with viewers’ expectations.
Kha didn’t really get interested in Elvis until he left Memphis. At grad school in New Haven, he felt homesick and lonely. He bought his first cardboard of Elvis because he needed “someone to keep me company,” and Elvis reminded him of home. He would use the cutout to help him frame shots, to focus his camera. He didn’t find a way to really incorporate Elvis into his work until 2015, when he met an Elvis tribute artist in Brooklyn. “I thought it would be amazing to make a body of work that is sort of about Memphis but through the filter of meeting [tribute artists] from all over who are doing this thing that I think is art.” That year, he returned to Memphis to photograph the tribute artists at Elvis Week. He watched hours of Andy Kaufman videos in preparation. He made a video piece called “Tommy Kha as Andy Kaufman as Elvis Minus the Singing.” He also tried his hand at performing as Elvis but realized that he was “not a performer in that regard.” What he prized most about this work were the conversations, the fleeting connections he felt with the Elvis community.
He also felt a peculiar joy in his own failure to be Elvis or imitate Elvis. “I thought it was more poetic to talk about not being able to look the part at all or actually be an Elvis tribute artist. It is not about mockery, but about my own failures. I always try to place myself in a position of disparaging myself.”
Another thing the Elvis fans who critiqued Kha’s photo got wrong: If there is a joke in Constellations VIII, the butt of the joke isn’t Elvis. It’s Tommy Kha.
Kha does not mind being the punchline of a joke, so long as it is a joke he has constructed. And so long as, when you get it, you’re not sure if you should really be laughing.
A Respectful Representation
When Kha got a call, on March 10th, that the airport was considering removing Constellations VIII because of controversy it had caused among Elvis fans, he was distraught. He was also not surprised.
Kha hasn’t had the best luck showing in the South. In past showings, his work had been spit on, censored, and threatened with destruction. He’s had work go missing and displayed incorrectly. He only submitted to the airport’s call for artists because he was specifically invited by the project managers, the UrbanArt Commission (UAC). He also submitted because, for Kha, there is something that feels different about being recognized as a Southern artist, rather than a gay artist or an artist of color, though he identifies as both. Said Kha, “I know I am from the South, but it is one thing to be seen and to know yourself as a certain way, and it is another thing to be seen by other people that way. I always thought of myself as an artist, but I never considered how it would feel when other people started looking at me and seeing me as an artist.”
The airport offered that visibility.
Kha initially submitted a series of pictures from a decade-long project called “Return to Sender,” or “Kissing Pictures,” photos that show Kha receiving kisses from many different people and not returning them. One of the submitted photos shows Kha being kissed by another man. In January of 2021, they were initially accepted by a subcommittee and then rejected after debate among a larger decision-making committee. Kha felt that the photos were not accepted because they depicted a same-sex kiss, and he felt let down. Here, again, was a Southern exhibition he would not be able to participate in because his work spoke too plainly about his own Southern experience.
A photo from Kah’s “Kissing Pictures” series depicts a same-sex kiss. (Photo: Courtesy Tommy Kha)
In January, he wrote to the UAC, “I owe a lot to Memphis, I still make work about it. But I wish to push for the ‘Kissing Pictures’ as I think the work is fresh, peculiar, and, more importantly, could reflect nicely for Memphis to open to art that isn’t necessarily safe or censored, it’s really about what is possible, and in Memphis, one could do that. What can hope and progress look like by opening up to art that can be reflective and offer new voices?” From there, he let it drop.
That summer, UAC approached him again and suggested that he instead submit a few of his other works, some of which referenced Elvis. Kha was still wary, worried about complaints from the Elvis Estate, but he decided to go forward with the submission. In late August, he found out the work had been approved by the board for purchase. He was happy, even a little stunned to be a part of the collection, which includes work by 62 artists with Memphis connections, half of whom are artists of color.
His happiness was short-lived.
On March 10th, Kha was contacted by Lauren Kennedy, the director of the UrbanArt Commission, telling Kha that complaints from Elvis fans might lead to his piece’s deinstallation. Kennedy was on vacation with her husband, driving through a remote part of West Texas. She’d spent the day frantically attempting to find high ground with cell phone service so that she could speak to the people at the airport authority and determine exactly what was going on. She’d been aware of the Facebook complaints but initially, said Kennedy, “I was more amused than concerned. I didn’t expect it to become what it did. It escalated really quickly. Within the day, it escalated to the airport saying they were being told to take it down, which I understand to have been a board decision.”
Lauren Kennedy (Photo: Courtesy Lauren Kennedy)
No one could give her exact information on who was involved: “I know the airport got a lot of complaints, though I don’t know what ’a lot’ means numerically. I was told that the mayor’s office had been contacted and that in some capacity Elvis Presley Enterprises participated in some kind of conversation. But I don’t know who that included and what was communicated.” Both the mayor’s office and Elvis Presley Enterprises denied multiple requests for comment on this story.
Kennedy strongly cautioned the airport against removing the piece. “We thought it was a really bad idea. … We shared our thoughts on how things could transpire if it did come down and just really advocated to keep the piece up.” But the airport did not heed Kennedy’s warnings or wait to remove the piece. Over the weekend, without notifying either Kennedy or Kha, Constellations VIII/Golden Fields came down.
On Wednesday, March 16th, Kha met via Zoom with Kennedy and the airport’s communications manager, Glen Thomas. Kha scribbled two notes to himself to prepare for the meeting: “You did not do anything wrong” and “I love Memphis. I’m from Memphis. I love Elvis and I love the community.” In the meeting, the airport explained that they’d received complaints, some of which were racially motivated. They’d decided to “temporarily” remove Kha’s piece — a move that effectively destroyed the piece’s delicate vinyl. The decision was made, according to the airport, because they now saw the piece and its depiction of Elvis as too much of a “lightning rod.” They worried about tourism during Elvis Week. In the meeting, Kennedy pressed the airport: “It is hard to see the decision to remove without it seeming like giving into the ugly racist part of what has been shared,” she said. “That needs to be addressed.”
Kha was asked if he would consider doing a recommission for the space, which he declined. “I’ve been trying to avoid this,” said Kha. “If that is how people feel — okay. … It just feels like I was left out of the conversation. To even consider a recommission for me is exhausting. … It is a really upsetting thing.” Kha became emotional in the meeting. “I teach students how to navigate a world where they will face this sort of thing and I think that conversation is way more important than what happens to me in this moment.”
Speaking Out
Kha shies away from controversy. He knew that if he wanted to speak about the piece’s removal, he had a platform to do so: In New York as well as Memphis, his work is well-known, and his fans include members of the national press and prominent artists. He is followed by around 30,000 people on Instagram. But he felt tired. He’d tried to avoid being in this position. He was teaching and chasing several deadlines. Was saying something even worth it? Would he look like a complainer?
When he decided to post something to Instagram that let people know what happened, it was after reading the formal statement from the airport on Monday, March 21st. The statement from the airport emphasized that they did not want “public figures or celebrities” in the work, that the purchase of Kha’s work had been an exception to that concern. It also said that “Among the complaints, there were a small number of comments that included language that referred to Mr. Kha’s race, and such comments are completely unacceptable. The Airport Authority does not support those comments, nor does it form the basis for the Authority’s decision regarding the piece.”
For Kha, this felt like erasure. The complaints that the airport had listened to called for a respectful representation of Elvis. “I know,” said Kha, “that ‘respectful representation’ is code. It just immediately reminded me of how much I have to explain myself. Explain why I am in the room, why I am here. What does that mean, ‘respectful representation?’ It is just another way to say ‘Where are you from? Why are you here? Why is this here?’”
On Instagram, Kha once again found himself having to explain.
“After some disturbing complaints about my work, it was decided, and without my knowledge, the pictures were removed,” he posted. “For many years, I have created work that explores my own experiences of becoming an artist in the South. I love Memphis still, and I love the countless contributions from many voices and people that have [made] Memphis what it is to me: home.”
Much like the response to Jon Daly’s post had been, the response from Kha’s followers was instant. Hundreds of fans from Memphis, New York, and elsewhere commented to voice confusion, anger, and a call to action. Carmeon Hamilton, a Memphian and the star of Reno My Rental on HGTV, shared the story and her disappointment to her 171,000 followers. Everyone from the photo editor of The New Yorker, to a national association on censorship, to The Shops at Saddle Creek voiced support of Tommy Kha’s work in the comments of his post. Soon, the Memphis International Airport was flooded with more complaints. Only these accused the airport of affirming racism and censorship and called for the reinstallation of Constellations VIII/ Golden Fields.
By the next day, Tuesday March 22nd, the story had made the local news and national journalists were inquiring: How had this happened? And what did it mean about Memphis that it had?
The Weird World of Airport Art
What is airport art, anyway? A porous category. Some airports display giant blue horses or massive glass flamingos. Airport art programs, according to Kennedy, have only existed in living memory, and each airport has a slightly different take on what art might elevate and inspire tired passengers. Perhaps the question is easier answered in the negative. Airports are not usually where people go to see the most stunning and challenging selection of visual accomplishment.
From the beginning, the Memphis airport’s art collection was different. It is striking and contemporary. Kennedy said she has heard the new airport described as “an art gallery with planes” — a compliment she cherishes. The airport authority wanted, according to Kennedy, an art collection that reflected Memphis — not as a city mired in decades-old history, desperate for tourism dollars — but as a city that offered new accomplishments to culture. The airport tapped UAC for the project because they had a proven track record of being able to undertake large projects and work well with local artists. When selecting work, Kennedy said, “We wanted to be really representative of Memphis in the broadest possible sense. There was also an element of ’Memphis art canon,’ who are folks who really deserve to be included in this space that are part of the artist community here in a really meaningful way.” From UAC’s perspective, Kha was canon and he needed to be a part of that collection.
Kha is a studio artist. He does not make colorful abstracts for public art commissions. But that was okay — even desirable — because the airport’s collection was not going to be public art in the strictest sense of the term. It is a private collection of art that is shown to the public and ideally reflects a public ethos. Because of this distinction, the artwork occupies a strange space symbolically and legally. True public art, site-specific commissions for public entities, usually involve lots of paperwork, extensive meetings, and Artists Rights clauses that dictate legal procedure for if a work has to be removed or changed. The airport’s purchase of Kha’s work involved none of that paperwork. Kha didn’t even sign a contract. So, when the airport decided to remove Kha’s piece, there was little legal difference between removing Kha’s artwork and removing an outdated advertisement from the wall.
But there is far more symbolic significance to removing artwork than removing a poster. To the concerned public, removing the artwork was censorship.
Concerns over censorship were why filmmaker Craig Brewer got involved. Brewer posted a long post to his social media in response to the controversy, writing, “The folks at Memphis International Airport removed a perfectly inoffensive photo by our own famous photographer, @Tommykha, because they got some complaints from ‘Elvis fans’ on a Facebook thread. This is not who we are. WE ARE MEMPHIS! Our artists don’t act like other artists in other cities. Our artists get dismissed and called ‘gangsters and thugs’ and then go on to win Academy Awards for their work or have 20,000 Grizzlies fans chant Whoop That Trick in the Forum.”
Brewer, an influential figure, also placed two calls — the first, to Mayor Jim Strickland, who was aware of the controversy and voiced his support for Kha’s piece being reinstalled. Strickland said he had called the airport and voiced his concerns. The second call Brewer made was to Elvis Presley Enterprises CEO Jack Soden. Said Brewer, “I don’t know if Jack went further on any of that; all I know is that he was very sympathetic, and I was grateful that he listened. He has always been a really stellar guy.” EPE had no comment.
It is unclear what factors — potential calls from the mayor or Elvis Presley Enterprises, complaints on social media, news coverage, or internal discussion — inspired the decision, but by Tuesday evening, the Memphis airport issued a statement of their decision to reinstall the piece. When reached by phone on Wednesday, March 23rd, CEO Scott Brockman claimed responsibility for the decision to both remove and reinstall Kha’s work.
“There was dialogue with a number of entities and they provided their comments as to what they thought,” Brockman said. “There were other people who were involved but that is not relevant to this discussion. I was the lead.” Brockman also stuck to the airport’s initial statement and denied that censorship was the airport’s goal: “Things have gotten blown out of proportion and there are a lot of negative things that were said that weren’t true. … Ugly things said by a number of people that don’t provide any value. Our goal was never to create any angst or issue with Tommy Kha. … In hindsight we realized there was a bigger impact than we anticipated. We are not art people. We are airport people.”
By Wednesday night, Kha’s piece was reinstalled. The reinstallation was celebrated across social media and made local and national news. Kha thanked his supporters on social media. The news cycle moved on.
In the week that has followed, Kha has had more trouble moving on.
For Kha, Constellations VII/Golden Fields was never supposed to be a statement on race, an insult to Elvis, or anything so clear cut. It was supposed to be a self-portrait.
“It was my face in the photo,” said Kha. “I was hoping people could make fun of me! I was there and I was happy to be included. Now, after everything, I don’t feel that way.”
As with Daly, you can’t tell the story of Kha’s life without talking about Elvis. Kha’s Elvis is not just the one version Elvis, but the many Elvises that all Memphians know — the Elvis who used to sign autographs at the gate for our grandmothers, the Elvis who has been endlessly reproduced in velvet paintings and on tchotchkes, the Elvis who Andy Kaufman and hundreds of others have imitated for 50 years, the Elvis who speaks to the lonely and who can bring you to tears singing gospel music. That Elvis is at once a real person who did real things — good and bad — a superhero or a joke. He is a symbol we can’t seem to agree over, and he belongs to all of us, for better or worse.
Kha says he still loves Elvis, but this experience has spoiled something for him. He doesn’t want to have to explain himself again, to have to justify his right to be in the room. Said Kha, “I think there is so much work to be done. Though it may have worked out for me, I know it may not have worked out for other people. There’s so much at stake and I’m pretty sure it is not good for people who don’t have the same microphone that I have, or the same support system.” Kha wants to make sure this experience doesn’t happen to others. He doesn’t know quite what that would look like but is continuing conversations with UrbanArt Commission to try to see what protections can be put in place for artists in similar situations.
As for his Elvis photographs, said Kha, “It does make me rethink if I want to explore this project. I don’t know what more I can say, at the moment. I don’t think I’ll go to Elvis Week this year.”
Elvis, dressed for January (Photo courtesy Elvis Presley Enterprises)
Somehow, the anniversary of Elvis Presley’s death gets more attention than that of his birth. That’s partly because he happened to be born in the middle of winter, while his death in August 1977 was in the heart of the tourist season.
Still, there are plenty of music aficionados who recognize his birthday every January 8th. Indeed, one can even view a timeline of how the King spent his birthday each year from 1955 to 1977. It’s impressive that on his 20th birthday, Elvis was in Shreveport, Louisiana, for his eighth appearance on the Louisiana Hayride. His third record on Sun Records, “Milkcow Blues Boogie” / “You’re a Heartbreaker,” had been released just 10 days earlier.
Yet this year’s celebrations at Graceland may be the biggest yet, and Priscilla Presley herself will appear here and there. Called ELVIS 45, in commemoration of the 45th anniversary of his passing in 1977, the programming will include special events, giveaways, new exhibit openings, and concerts at Graceland, not only from January 6th through 9th, but during the entire year.
In conjunction with the ongoing celebration, Graceland is offering the ELVIS 45: The Sapphire Collection, featuring a 2022 Graceland Annual Pass and a limited-edition collection of Elvis’ 45 RPM singles in a collectible case. Additionally, Elvis Presley’s Graceland in Memphis will be giving out 1,000 special Elvis 45s to visitors who tour on six select days in 2022. All records will feature an Elvis 45 custom jacket — and the record giveaways on three of the dates will be custom-pressings with a one-of-a-kind A/B side combination that is unavailable anywhere in the world. Visit Graceland.com/Elvis45 for details.
Young Elvis in front of Graceland (Photo courtesy Elvis Presley Enterprises).
The birthday festivities begin on January 6th include the Elvis Birthday Bash at Elvis Presley’s Memphis and private evening tours of Graceland Mansion decorated for the holidays. The special evening tour of Graceland Mansion will include live tour guides inside Graceland and Elvis Christmas music playing throughout the rest of the mansion grounds. At Elvis Presley’s Memphis, attendees can attend self-guided tours of the exhibits and an Elvis dance party with SiriusXM’s Elvis Radio DJ Argo at Presley Motors, and photo ops, Elvis trivia, scavenger hunts, and more.
January 7th features an afternoon screening and sing-along with the film Viva Las Vegas, and a gospel dinner with Elvis gospel music by Terry Blackwood and The Imperials in the Guest House ballroom.
The celebration continues on January 8th — Elvis’ birthday. At 8:30 a.m., the annualElvis Birthday Proclamation Ceremony will take place on Graceland’s north lawn. The special ceremony will feature Priscilla Presley, a birthday cake cutting, and proclamation of Elvis Presley Day by Memphis and Shelby County officials. Fans who are unable to attend can watch the ceremony online for free via Graceland’s Livestream page or at Elvis Presley’s Graceland Facebook page. The afternoon includes Conversations on Elvis in the Guest House theater with stories from those who knew the King of Rock-and-Roll best, including a special appearance by Priscilla Presley; Terry Blackwood, who performed with Elvis as part of The Imperials; and Elvis’ jeweler, Lowell Hays. The evening of January 8th features members of the Memphis Symphony Orchestra presenting their annual Elvis Pops Concert live at the Graceland Soundstage with musician and singer Terry Mike Jeffrey and his band joining them.
Graceland will also open four new exhibits in 2022, including Rock On, a pop-up replica guitar exhibit in partnership with Gibson Guitars in early January; Elvis: Dressed to Rock on May 7th, featuring jumpsuits and Elvis’ stage wear from 1969-1977; Graceland: Welcome to My World on June 7th, in celebration of the 40th anniversary of Graceland opening to the public; and Dear Elvis, an exhibit honoring Elvis fans, which will open in August, just in time for Elvis Week 2022.
Elvis 45 events planned for 2022 include Graceland traditional annual events like Ultimate Elvis Tribute Artist Weekend in March, Graceland Performing Arts Camp in June, Elvis Week 2022 in August, Holiday Lighting Weekend in November, and Christmas Tours in December: plus, one-time events including a Valentine’s Day Package in February, Jailhouse Rock Party in April, Memphis Music Weekend in September, and more. Visit the Graceland.com calendar of events for a full listing.
Tigerman Karate Dojo & Museum (Photo: Abigail Morici)
Eighty-seven years ago, Elvis was born. Forty-seven years ago, he earned his eighth-degree black belt, and somewhere in between, he released some music and movies and earned his title as the King of Rock-and-Roll. Admittedly, these accomplishments, not his karate skills, are probably the reason fans celebrate his birthday to this day. But some fans haven’t forgotten his karate chops, and in fact, they plan to celebrate Elvis’ 87th at his first dojo, which has since been converted into the Tigerman Karate Dojo & Museum, where you can take karate and check out some rare Elvis memorabilia, like the ambulance that drove Elvis from Graceland the day he died.
On January 7th, the Tigerman Birthday Bash will host guests like Mindi Miller, Elvis’ girlfriend in the ’70s, who shared an interest in karate; Wayne Mann and Janet Smith, Elvis’ first-cousins; and Joey Smith, Elvis’ second-cousin who lived at Graceland and now works at the dojo/museum. Colin Paul, a musician and Elvis enthusiast, has traveled from his home in the UK to Memphis “to hook up with [his] American Elvis family” and to interview Miller, who will talk about her personal relationship with Elvis. YouTube Elvis documentarians, Spa Guy (who also owns the dojo/museum) and Globetrotting with Trey, will also be in attendance. During the party, attendees will have a chance to meet with the special guests and take part in the usual party activities, like eating birthday cake, which will be cut at midnight.
“Even though it’s the day before Elvis’ birthday, we are planning to celebrate until midnight when it turns January 8th,” says Gabrielle Stout, the party’s organizer. “It’s just a chance for Elvis fans to get together, and I’m looking forward to seeing all the smiling faces.”
Stout says she has always loved Elvis, and coincidentally, the party is going to be held on her birthday. “It’s going to be the best birthday I’ve ever had because, one, I get to be around the people I care about, and, two, I get to share my birthday with Elvis.”
When Graceland revs up its engines for this year’s Elvis Week, one event will feature some of the greatest players to ever back up the King. Elvis or no, any show with musicians like James Burton, David Briggs, Charlie McCoy, and Norbert Putnam on one stage would be notable, for they are some of the famed Nashville Cats, hitmakers for countless stars in their day. Naturally, that’s the crew Elvis would call on when he worked in Nashville, as he did for the legendary June 1970 “marathon sessions” in RCA Studio B that yielded over three dozen tracks, spanning four albums. On Friday, fans can hear those very players recreate some of those songs live.
Luckily for us, bassist Norbert Putnam, who Elvis called “Putt,” remembers those sessions like they were yesterday. He devotes a chapter to them in his book, Music Lessons: A Musical Memoir, but, needing to hear more details, I rang him up at his hometown of Florence, Alabama.
Memphis Flyer:Those few sessions in 1970 were prolific. They must have proceeded at a whirlwind pace.
Norbert Putnam: I think we recorded 39 sides and they kept 35, in five nights. And they named it the marathon sessions, which makes it sound like we were struggling the whole time. But it was easy. It was like falling off a log to work with Elvis Presley. A lot of times, Elvis would get it on the first take. He was so sharp. He was such a quick study.
I suppose you Nashville Cats were quick studies as well.
We were all trained to grab a legal pad and start writing when the demo started playing. As it played, I would note the bass part and the chords. We would have a chart, literally, in four minutes. And Elvis might play that vocal by the demo singer, sometimes four or five times. Then he’d turn around and say, “You guys have that? Well, let’s run it down.” [Jerry] Carrigan would count it off, and this band would play it flawlessly. Elvis would say,“‘How do you do that?!”
In your book, you say publishers would pitch songs to Elvis, and if he didn’t like one, he’d wad up the lyric sheet and toss it in the trash.
Oh, he loved to do that! And he did it in jest. He’d say, “Lamar, how dare you bring me such a piece of crap?”
So he had to be really into it before you would get around to actually tracking it.
Yeah, he didn’t record any songs just to please the publishers. And he never slowly worked his way up to the keeper vocal. He started off full blast. I’d see him just before the red light came on, and he’d be breathing like a fullback, like, “Gimme the ball!”
And he was standing in front of us, holding an RE15 mic, which is what he used on stage in Las Vegas, with a 30-foot cable on it. He’s got that in his right hand, he’s got the lyric sheet in the other, and he’s looking at us, and prodding us. It would be like, “Hang on!”
These were all night sessions, weren’t they?
The only bad thing about working with Elvis Presley was, he was nocturnal. He got up at 5 in the afternoon, had breakfast at 6. At 10 p.m., when he says, “Let’s record,” I have already been working for 12 hours! By 4 a.m., it was all I could to keep my eyes open. When we did “Merry Christmas, Baby,” I was just trying to stay awake.
Elvis sang it; then he starts singing it all over again, without stopping. Now I’m dying. It’s over seven minutes. He says to James Burton, “Take it, James,” and James starts playing. Two bars later, Elvis yells, “Wake up, Putt!” He’d probably been watching me with my eyes shut all the way through the song. But he continued to hire me!
The Nashville Marathon Sessions 50th Anniversary Concert takes place Friday, August 13, 7 p.m., Soundstage at Graceland; tickets are $78, $68, $58, and $48. For more on this and other events, visit graceland.com.
Elvis Presley is not most famous for his love of karate, but his interest in the martial art is indeed part of his legend. It informed his fashion, his stage moves, and more. Now, to celebrate the 39th opening of Graceland to tours on June 7, 1982, Elvis Presley’s Graceland will open a new pop-up exhibit, dedicated to the King’s experience with karate, inside the Graceland Archives Experience in Elvis Presley’s Memphis. The new exhibit will open on Monday, June 7th.
Presley began his study of karate while he was in the Army, stationed in Germany. The King developed a passion for karate, and he continued to study the form when he returned to Memphis, earning his first-degree black belt under Hank Slemansky. Perhaps most famously, Presley studied in a Memphis dojo under Master Kang Rhee, who eventually bestowed seventh- and eighth-degree black belts on Presley.
Included in the pop-up exhibit’s collection will be Presley’s personal karate gis, his seventh- and eighth-degree black belt certificates, and the original handwritten script for his 1974 karate documentary, New Gladiators.
The exhibit will open at Elvis Presley’s Graceland on Monday, June 7th.
