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Elvising

chose the easy way to make money, rather than the innovative or creative. But I didn’t know that then. I was into Motown and then the British Invasion. Elvis belonged to an older, less hip Eisenhower generation. Or so I thought. We were hippies. We were too cool for school. And then. . . . The ’68 Comeback broadcast gave The King new respect with a new generation. My sister-inlaw and I watched him on a tiny black-and-white TV in their starter apartment and were blown away. Clad in skin-tight black leather and master of the situation, Elvis won us over. He was worthy of our respect. He was back, baby. And that was pretty much where he stayed, in a pantheon that included rock gods like Dylan, Aretha, Morrison, Janis and Hendrix. There was a kind of low hum of humor there, as if, being over thirty, he couldn’t really be trusted, but he remained a subject of grudging fascination. Now, we grind through the next couple of decades, wherein The

Or at least look like him. It’s fascinating, as American as apple pie. I didn’t start out as an Elvis fan. I was only about eight or nine when he burst into the national consciousness on The Ed Sullivan Show, something my family watched almost religiously on Sunday nights. I don’t remember much about him, but I remember that my older cousin Judy, who was my adored role model, viewed him with detached interest. By the time I was old enough to get into rock and roll, Elvis was no longer the rebel, the sexy gyrating rocker who was bringing that “race music” to American teenagers. With his string of truly dreadful films and his slick recordings, he seemed like a joke, a parody of himself. Of course, he was under the spell of the Svengali Colonel, his vampire of a manager who 16

Profile for Tidewater Times

Tidewater Times March 2019  

March 2019 Tidewater Times

Tidewater Times March 2019  

March 2019 Tidewater Times