When Elvis died

I just wonder how many of our shops would actually stop the presses if Elvis was still alive but died tonight. Or any other comparable scenario.
I'm pretty sure we'd be laughed at.

 

I was with mom and brother, moving my wayward sister (she died this year) to her next humble abode.
Up on the west end of Ninth Street.
We heard it on a radio that was pulled out of one of the boxes and plugged in at the new (actually really old) house.
A special, break-in report.
CBS radio or whatever network it was said "officials were unsure" of the cause of death.

 

Thought I'd chime in on this one.

I have a cousin named Michael who was born Aug. 15, 1977 at Baptist Memorial Hospital in Memphis. On the following day my parents loaded their 8-month-old son (that was me) into the car and drove to the hospital to see the newborn. They visited, took pictures, did all the stuff you do when you become an aunt and uncle, but when they tried to leave they were stopped and told to turn around and go back to the room, that nobody was allowed in the hallway.

Obviously they had no idea what was happening.

Little while later they got the news: Elvis was dead a few floors over.

So where was I when Elvis died?

Down the hall from him, actually, drinking baby milk, I presume.

 

Ironically, gary, I was there, too. I was a bit older than eight months, though. My friends and I made an annual trip from North Carolina to Oklahoma, the birthplace of one my dearest buddies and the home of some of the best bass fishing in the world. We drove 1,000 miles each way, stopping in Nashville on the way out and Memphis on the way back. In 1977, on our return trip, my friend Mark began having complications. He had chronic Crohn's Disease and often had flareups that called for immediate care, so we stopped at Baptist to get him checked out. We checked into a hotel nearby and waited for him to call. To make a long story short, we stayed several days. Elvis died in the interim; Mark lived another 15 or so years, dying the day Earnhardt passed away in Daytona. I was there, too. Strange. I never thought of that until just now. Anyway, what I'll always remember about Memphis was the curfew after dark. I don't remember if that was just the day he died or the day of the funeral. What I do remember is breaking it each night, driving around the dark streets of Memphis, drunk, 18 and listening to Elvis on the radio.

 

Was at a KISS/Cheap Trick concert at the Cow Palace in San Francisco. Thought it was odd
KISS dedicated the last song to "the King of rock n' roll — Elvis Presley" until heard from
another fan what had happened.

 

I was 9. I was waiting out in the driveway for my mom to come back from picking up a pizza for dinner. I leaned into the driver's side of the car before my mom shut the ignition and heard the news on the radio. I don't think my parents cared, but later that night, I played the one Elvis record I had. The only song I remember that was on it was "Burning Love."

 

I was a few days out from being born, so I have nothing to add on a personal level.

However, Lester Bangs' piece on Elvis' death is a must read. That thing should've been reprinted in every newspaper for this anniversary.

“I can guarantee you one thing - we will never again agree on anything as we agreed on Elvis.” - Lester Bangs

 

Actually, Cronkite played it as the second story on CBS, and there was a stink about it later. NBC, with David Brinkley, led Nightly News with it. Brinkley compared him to Frank Sinatra as an all-around entertainer.

 

This is kinda neat, if you're interested. The local alternative weekly -- The Memphis Flyer -- did an obit last week based on the idea that Elvis lived until 2007. It's long, but clever and a nice read.

http://www.memphisflyer.com/memphis/Content?oid=oid%3A31951

 

I was 10 years old, at home and watching ROUSTABOUT on the local CBS channel weekday afternoon movie. It was "Elvis Week." They then cut in sometime during the movie to break the news.

And in another coinky-dink, I was in my newswriting 101 class, taking a tour of the campus newspaper. The teacher showed us the AP wire, saying, "when something big happens, bells go off."

We walk a bit deeper into the newsroom when suddenly, the bells go off. Repeatedly.

It was the '86 Space Shuttle explosion.

 

man i miss those bells.

 

Have no idea where I was when I heard of his death because I was never a fan. Did have to stake out our little local airport once in the mid-70s for a story when he came in for a concert. Remember his private jet landing around 1 a.m. Place was pretty much deserted. He stepped off in a full-length fur coat, wearing big sunglasses and with two blond babes on either side. That was kind of cool, or something.

I do remember where I was when JFK was shot (in a 7th grade classroom when a teacher burst in and announced it) and when the news came of John Lennon's death (eating at a place in Westwood near UCLA. There was all kinds of screaming when the news broke on the TV over the bar.)