Saturday, August 16, 2008

The Day the Music Died


Two famous recording artists together in 1970.



Do you remember the day Elvis Presley died?

I do.

It was Tuesday, Aug. 16, 1977. I was 17 years old, and I was about to start my senior year in high school.

In fact, classes were scheduled to begin the following Monday, August 22. And high school orientation sessions were being held on campus that Tuesday afternoon.

I had many things on my mind that day. There was orientation, as I said. And in a few days, my parents were going to observe their 25th wedding anniversary. I was still trying to decide what to do for the occasion.

I was never much of an Elvis fan, and he certainly wasn’t on my mind as I went about my business that day — to look for a suitable wedding anniversary gift and to go to my high school’s cafeteria to join my classmates for our last pre-academic year orientation together.

But Elvis was suddenly on everyone’s mind when the TV networks broke into regularly scheduled afternoon programming to announce that he had died.

Cable TV was on the verge of becoming the national obsession, but in 1977, very few homes were connected to cable. TV meant the Big Three networks — ABC, NBC and CBS (and PBS, although it didn’t have much of a news division in those days).

But I remember that, when I walked in the door of my home that afternoon, every single network had cameras on hand to capture the moment when a hearse carrying Elvis’ body departed from his Graceland mansion in Memphis.

And that moment was, indeed, broadcast live on all three networks.

With thousands of people lining the Memphis streets for a glimpse of the vehicle transporting the body of "the King" to the mortuary.

Up until that time, the only things that I had ever seen live on every network were things like space missions and presidential elections and inaugurations.

And the Watergate/impeachment hearings.

Maybe there were other celebrities who got that kind of coverage before Elvis died. If there were, I was either too young to know about it (i.e., was Marilyn Monroe’s death given that kind of TV coverage in 1962 — when TV ownership wasn’t nearly as extensive as it is today?) or I’ve conveniently forgotten about it.

President Kennedy's assassination got wall-to-wall coverage in 1963, but my family, like many families in those days, did not have a TV set, and we watched the broadcasts on the neighbors' TV.

In the years since Elvis died, I’ve seen a few deaths of famous people that got a lot of TV coverage — former presidents, of course, and the pope … and Princess Diana.

But none from the entertainment world got the kind of coverage that Elvis got.

And all these deaths have occurred since the dawn of the 24-hour news networks.

Today, when someone famous dies, it’s taken for granted that CNN will be there. So will Fox News — and C-SPAN, if the famous person was in a position of authority, like a president or a monarch or a pope.

And the original networks will be on hand as well.

Unless you count Princess Di, I don’t think I’ve seen another celebrity’s death that had the kind of cultural impact that Elvis’ death had.

But Princess Di wasn't really a celebrity in the sense that Elvis was.

Elvis was a performer. Princess Di was primarily known to the public in her role as the spouse of the prince of Wales. After her divorce, she was known for her humanitarian activism — on behalf of those with AIDS and to eradicate landmines.

She wasn't a performer.

But maybe it will be that way when Michael Jackson dies.

In the 31 years that have passed, I've heard several conspiracy theorists claim that Elvis' death was an elaborate hoax — that "the King" faked his own death to be free of the press and his fans without letting anyone down.

And the myth has been fed by the numerous claims from people who said they had seen Elvis in out-of-the-way places — like convenience stores and interstate men's restrooms.

It was never a very plausible argument, though. When Elvis died, the pills he'd been taking for years and his unhealthy diet had transformed him into a bloated caricature of himself. His concert performances in the last years of his life only served to provide fodder for the lounge impersonation acts that came after his death.

He always retained his fan base, but his broad popular appeal had faded. When Presley died, society had largely forgotten him. And, when I heard the news of his death, I had the same reaction I had when I heard about Bing Crosby's death a few months later — one of yesterday's stars had passed away.

Neither Presley nor Crosby seemed relevant. They were relics from the past.

Today, Elvis' mansion and his record sales have made his estate one of the biggest moneymakers in the world, but in 1977 Elvis didn't have a massive fortune anymore. It was the efforts of his ex-wife Priscilla in the months after Elvis died that turned the estate into what it is.

In 1977, though, Elvis wouldn't have been able to count on having that money to support his lifestyle in anonymity. He had no reason to believe that Graceland would generate millions of dollars annually as a result of his death.

So let me ask you this. If Elvis faked his own death, what was he planning to do for an income? Go back to truck driving in Mississippi?

If he were still alive, Elvis would be 73 now.

But I don't think he's been alive for the last three decades. I think it's probably true that he died of a heart attack, brought on by his weight and his long-term drug abuse, on that August day in 1977. (Apparently, Elvis had his heart attack while sitting on the toilet — prompting some wags to suggest that the "king died on the throne.")

If you're in the mood for some Elvis tonight, may I suggest that you turn to TV Land, which will show a two-hour retrospective ("Elvis, by the Presleys") at 8:30 p.m. (Eastern). The program was made three years ago.

I haven't seen it, but it reportedly features Presley's ex-wife Priscilla, his daughter Lisa Marie, his cousin and Priscilla's parents.

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