16th August 2007
- N.J. Woman Dies In Graceland Heat
(cbs3.com, August 16, 2007)
Hot weather proved to be too much for one New Jersey woman as thousands of dedicated Elvis Presley fans gathered in Tennessee to honor the 30th anniversary of his death.
Temperatures soared into the triple digits as fans descended on Elvis' Graceland mansion in Memphis.
Authorities said the heat proved to be too much for 67-year-old Patricia Ogilby of Bloomfield, N.J., who was found dead inside a camper at an RV park behind the Heartbreak Hotel at about 1 p.m. Wednesday.
The Medical Examiner's Office said Ogilby had chronic health problems, but the heat contributed to her death.
Officials said an eight-year-old boy was hospitalized due to the heat and several others were treated for heat exhaustion during Wednesday night?s candlelight vigil.
- Crying in the chaparral
By Jack Waterford
(A HREF="http://nyngan.yourguide.com.au/detail.asp?story_id=1038202&src=topstories>nyngan.yourguide.com.au" / Canberra Times, August 16, 2007)
I CAN still remember the wailing and the keening, the hair streaked with mud and the faces and bodies daubed with mud when the news of the death of Elvis Presley arrived in Central Australian Aboriginal communities 30 years ago today.
Elvis was a dearly loved friend. So far as I know he never came within 15,000km of places such as Yuendumu or Papunya, but the merest child aged four, who could scarcely speak a word of English could sing, word perfect, Crying in the Chapel and a dozen other Elvis songs. A member of the household.
Not in the same way that he might have been a member of the household in other parts of Australia. One could not, in those days, pick up radio, or television, in remote communities. Music, generally, came from dirty and dusty record players or tape decks, or from travelling bands.
It was not a time for bad-taste jokes about choking on hamburgers or wearing nappies. We were in sorry camps, and everyone was so distraught that it was impossible, and highly impolite, to address any other issues. One could not even mention his name. He was Kumunjaya that name we all know that we cannot mention because it would make us too upset. In time, depending on the closeness of the relationship, one could bring oneself to say it again.
Many of the rituals, and the extravagances of sheer grief, of the sorry camp are calculated to appease the dead person's spirit, if it be around, and to disavow, or apologise for, any responsibility by act, or omission, for the death. Those acts may not have been wilful or malicious indeed they may have been done in complete ignorance but the sense of responsibility did not turn on intention.
Indeed, if a relative was particularly close, or if there was some known enmity, or occasion for people to think that there was some knowing responsibility, sorry ceremonies might well involve some self-mutilation, whether as a form of penance or so as to confuse an avenging spirit. The mutilation might take the form of cutting oneself, usually on the arm, leg or chest, and sometimes the cuts can be right down to the bone and quite grisly. I didn't see anyone cutting themselves over Elvis, heavens be thanked, though for all I knew, he had choked on some Aussie beef (kangaroo) from this very area. (Australia was only a year or so away from the 'roo meat substitution scandal.)
About the time of Elvis's death, I arrived in Alice Springs to work with the Central Australian Aboriginal Congress, particularly in helping to set up medical services in remote communities. I was on two years leave of absence from The Canberra Times some of which I was also to spend working with Fred Hollows and the national trachoma program and they were among the most interesting, absorbing and fun days of my life.
I was fascinated with the display of grief over Elvis. What other complete stranger to such communities could excite such a reaction, I asked others.
A few country and western singers Marty Robbins and Slim Dusty were suggested. Gough Whitlam, everyone agreed. Perhaps the death, in a comic book, of the very popular Phantom, though that was, of course, impossible, since the Ghost Who Walks can never die. The Phantom was popular in those parts and not only with Aborigines indeed a man later to become a High Court judge once sent me a telegram from a remote settlement begging me to send him copies of the Bengali Law Reports, as Phantom comics were known.
Gough was a bit of a natural. He was a local hero because of land rights, and perhaps particularly, his grand gesture in picking up dirt and letting it stream through the hands of Vincent Lingiari, at Lajamanu, or Hooker Creek. The dear Leader was never a great one for mere interactions, but a master of simple, but grand, symbolism.
Indeed I was to have a Canberra assignment involving Gough which perfectly symbolised this, and why he was a legend in Central Australia, even though few Aboriginal people had ever seen him.
The ACT Labor Party thought that something by way of a monument, memorial, scholarship or whatever ought to be established to honour him. A reasonable sum of money, not only from Labor sources, was raised. Gough was sounded out about what he thought might be appropriate.
He was adamant he wanted no bauble himself or of himself in Canberra, as a not-yet-dead deity. He suggested he would be most happy if the money was used in some manner for the benefit of Aboriginal kids in Central Australia. I cannot tell you how touched and affected Aboriginal people in communities were when, in trying to organise this into some form, I told them that this was his first wish.
The Kumunjaya rituals could get a bit taxing sometimes. To accidentally mention by name a recently dead person could easily bring tears to the eyes, or cause offence. One would readily be forgiven for one's unspeakable ignorance, but rather more in the way that the oafish transgressions of a Borat would be dismissed by kind Americans.
Alas, some Aboriginal communities had been through a semi-Stalinist phase in the 1950s when, for some reason, a good number of the new babies had been named after things. Things like Radiator. Or Truck. When Radiator Jack would die, the word radiator (and Jack) would go out of circulation for an interval. With a healthy death rate, there could be as many as 20 or 30 very common words for which one automatically substituted the word Kumunjaya, making a conversation almost unintelligible. All the more so for a myall like me, without a very vast vocabulary.
No doubt there would be some who would see such rituals as proof of the essential primitivism of such people, and my affection for it as some sort of proof of a proposition, now widely promoted by the new assimilationists, that people who adopted the integration model from the late 1960s were foolish romantics, with misguided ideas about noble savages, who desired, as it were, to lock Aboriginal people into their old and savage ways, rather than get on with the job of becoming like us.
The funny thing was that so many rituals, and aspects of their kinship system which I also found absorbing, so mirrored our own. A great deal of the sorry ceremony stuff, for example, closely paralleled the formal mourning rituals of middle-class Victorian and Edwardian England, except that, when it came to the comic, England was right out in front. Nor was that from such a distant past. About that time I remember reading a 1953 ASIO report on a diplomat, Ric Throssell, which had commented, disapprovingly, that he had not been wearing a black armband and other trifles of mourning rig, despite the recent death of Queen Mary.
I'd put on a black armband for Elvis long before I'd do it for any member of the Royal Family. Even, or especially, I am afraid to say, Diana.
- Long live the King's memory
By IAN ROBERTSON
(canoe.ca / Sun Media, August 16, 2007)
On the 30th anniversary today of the death of The King of Rock-n-Roll, fans from around the world have flooded The Little Town of Memphis. Among an estimated 85,000 people who came to tour Graceland -- the preserved mansion in Memphis, Tenn., where Elvis Presley died on Aug. 16, 1977 -- was Rev. Dorian Baxter, a veteran of numerous pilgrimages and the GTA's best-known "tribute artist."
"The crowds are huge," he said from the steps of Graceland. "This is by far the largest turnout ... it's mind-boggling." Those who Make Believe as the singer are echoing three of his top tunes, C'Mon Everybody plus Christmas hits O Come All Ye Faithful and O Little Town of Bethlehem.
They will head home with great memories, said Baxter, the 2006 federal candidate in Newmarket-Aurora who was booked to do over 50 weddings last night as "Elvis Priestley" in a vows renewal service.
Baxter, a fan from the age of 5 in Kenya, used Presley's image and style yesterday for a gospel service with the theme "Everlasting life, Love of Jesus, Victory over death, Inspiration and Salvation (ELVIS)".
With nine busloads from Canada and visitors from countries such as France, Spain, Holland, Norway, Denmark, Belgium, Brazil and Italy, Baxter said "the predominant country by far is Britain. "Every second person I've met here is from there," he said. "Great Britain has the largest number of fan clubs in the world, followed closely only by the USA. This becomes all the more remarkable when one realizes that Elvis never travelled abroad for concerts. The only two countries he ever performed in are the USA and Canada."
Born Jan. 8, 1935 in Tupelo, Miss. and raised in Memphis, the singer who first performed rockabilly, later recording rock, gospel, pop, blues and ballads, was 42 when a heart attack ended his career. His death left global fans All Shook Up.
After hundreds of thousands of onlookers, media and celebrities lined Memphis streets for the funeral, records and films were re-issued, plus tons of merchandise. An almost god-like icon to fans, Presley's music and dress styles are widely copied by re-enactors who never get Too Much.
Since 1995, they also flock to Collingwood for Ontario's top Elvis festival. Jay Zanier, of Guelph, who beat out 140 performers on July 28, is representing the event in Memphis.
- Shaking a leg for the King
By Megan Doherty
(Canberra Times, August 16, 2007, p. 8)
Fyshwick truck driver Garry Buckley will hold a minute's silence today to homour 30 years since the death of Elvis Presley -- and then slip into his jumpsuit and pop on his shades to resurrect the spirit of the King in a series of concerts from the Tuggeranong Hyperdome to a nursing home in Yass.
H'e made a second career from being an Elvis impersonator, one of the hundreds if not thousands around the world who will be kept busy on August 16 trying to keep an icon alive.
Not that Mr Buckley is under any misapprehension that he could replace the real thing. "Nup, I'm me. There was only one Elvis," he said. ...
- Elvis Week 2007 - Sizzling Vigil
By Christopher Blank
(Commercial Appeal, August 16, 2007, p. 1)
More than 50,000 people paid their respects to the King of rock and roll throughout the night Wednesday, the largest attendance estimte ever for the cndlelight vigil that has become the focal point of the annual Elvis Week in Memphis.
Today marks the 30th anniversary of the singer's death at age 42. "Iit all comes down to Elvis' relationship with the fans," said Jack soden, president of Elvis Presley Enterprises on the lawn of Graceland Mansion. "Elvis connects with people in a very personal and emotional way. It shows that his legacy still has momentum. I'm not going to say we're surprised by the turnout, but it certainly has blown us away by every measure."
... As the thousand lined up on the sizzling boulevard that bears Presley's name, temperatures soard to 106 degrees [F]. One Elvis fan died not far from the mansion, her death blamed on the heat, and at least eight others were taken to hospitals suffering from heat-related illnesses.
Graceland and Memphis city officials estimated that 75,000 people had come from outside the city to take part in Elvis Week.
- With Elvis, death became news
By Kevin McDonough
(Commercial Appeal, August 16, 2007, p. M5)
The King is gone, but he's not forgotten. On this date 30 summers ago, Elvis Presley's death at age 42 shocked the nation and provoked an outpouring of grief unseen since the assassinations of the 1960s.
In many ways, Elvis' death changed America, and particularly the media. Back in 1977, popular culture and "the new" were considered spearate items. You reaqd newspapers or news magazines for the news and People or the National Enquirer for gossip and entertainment information.
On the day Presley died, CBS News began Walter Cronkite's broadcast with a story about the negotiation of the Panama Canal treaty. That was considered more newsworthy than the death of a rock star turned Las Vegas singer. Viewers were shocked and outraged, and turned elsewhere to follow the Elvis vigil.
In the following days, the plgrimage of hundreds of thousands of mourners to Memphis and Graceland surprised many in the media and made some rethink their notion of the balance between hard news and more emotional popculture fare.
In the decades since, the coverage of celebrity deaths, from John Belushi to Kurt Cobain to Princess Diana, has been given hard-news status. The recent orgy of coverage from Anna Nicole Smith suggests the media pendulum may have moved a tad too far from the time when the death of the King of Rock and Roll was not considered "real" news. ...
- 30 YEARS AFTER HIS DEATH, WHY ELVIS AARON PRESLEY IS.. STILL THE KING
By John Dingwall
(Daily Journal, August 16, 2007)
TO the 50,000 people standing vigil outside Graceland this morning, Elvis Presley remains The King. And rightly so. It's all too easy to drag up the fact that he died - 30 years ago today - on his goldplated toilet seat at hisMemphis mansion. Addled with prescription drugs, bloated and virtually housebound, he died aged 42.
But has there been any singer to match Elvis since he burst on to the music scene in 1955? Not really.
A new version of Elvis's 1969 hit song In The Ghetto, featuring his daughter Lisa Marie's voice, has been created tomark the 30th anniversary of his death.
Eighteen CD singles spanning Elvis's career are being re-released on a week-toweek basis by his label RCA Victor. Some might think that is overkill. But imagine what it must have been like for those teenagers - in the days when even the word "teenager" was young - who saw Elvis's electrifying performances at the dawn of rock 'n' roll. Either live on endless concert tours or on their black and white TVs, they watched the making of a poor Southern white kid who only found fame after popping into Sun Studios to lay down a couple of songs for his mum's birthday.
In January 1956, Heartbreak Hotel became his first US No1. Eight more followed in the next 18 months and his fame conquered the world. He was so hot, the Ed Sullivan Show banned him from the waist down.
He united black and white music fans at a time when segregation was still rife in the United States.
As a child, Elvis sat on the steps of black churches in Tupelo, Mississippi, listening to gospel choirs. He learned how to sing like a black man. White DJs wouldn't play his early Sun records because it was negro music. In the late 1950s, a radio DJ suggested to BB King that Elvis was racist. The bluesman replied: "No. Elvis is my brother."
Despite the thousands of Elvis impersonators, many of them parodies of the parody that Elvis became in his final years, not one can really emulate that powerful, emotional and distinctive voice. Equally,no one could play Elvis in the movies even though he made more than 30 himself - many of them bad.
He inspired The Beatles and countless others to pick up their guitars. John Lennon said: "Before Elvis, there was nothing." Elvis sold 300million records during his lifetime but became a victim of his own success. People can forgive Janis Joplin and The Doors' Jim Morrison their drug excesses because of their iconic status.
But many just can't get past the fact Elvis let himself get fat. Had he still been handsome and cool, his critics would not see him as a joke. He really was the first rock'n'roll casualty. He simply didn't have the tools or the personnel to help him with his addiction, having surrounded himself with friends known as The Memphis Mafia and his controversial manager Colonel Tom Parker.
These days, pop stars can go into rehab at the drop of an acid tab but the stigma would have been too much to bear in the 1950s and 1960s. Instead, he tried to hide his drug problems as the hits got smaller.
In 1968, Elvis reinvented himself with the televised Comeback Special - he was taking care of business once again. In rhinestones. Parker tied him to a gruelling and soul destroying residency in the Las Vegas Hilton in the 1970s. Addicted to painkillers, The King was in pain and performing on tour weeks before his death when he should have been in hospital. But Parker had gambling debts to pay.
Even at the end, his voice was still an instrument of wonder. But his monologues were barely coherent.
Elvis's stepbrother, Edward Stanley, was with him on the day he died. Edward moved into Graceland in 1960 after his mother Dee married Elvis's widower dad.
In his new DVD, Protecting The King, Edward recalls how he was in the pool room when he was told Elvis was ill. He said: "I didn't think that it meant anything bad. "Came back up the driveway and, as I did, the ambulance pulled in, and I realised, 'This is pretty serious'. I still wasn't freaked ... because Elvis's medication had caused some problems before. "I knew his habits, his medications. That day he took too much and it cost him his life."
Thirty years on, Lisa Marie, 39, finally had the chance to duet with her dad. A video of the new version of In The Ghetto - using footage of The King in his prime alongside his daughter - will be posted on the website spinner.com tomorrow.
She said: "We had two hours to lay down my vocals. I heard the rough and I've never cried when I've done anything before but I just lost it. There are no bells and whistles - they just added me into the original recording." As Lisa Marie said, it's hard to improve on the original.
And that is why Elvis will still be The King of Rock 'n' Roll in 30 years' time...and forever.
- 'The King Is Dead': How residents said goodbye to Elvis Presley in '77
By DOUG FUHRMANN
(Daily Journal, August 16, 2007)
"He was fat and 42," began a Vineland Times Journal editorial in August 1977. "... But Elvis Presley had his own generation of fans, and when he died this week it was like an army arising out of nowhere. Across the country they remembered, they dusted off the old Elvis records and they wept."
Titled, "The King Is Dead," the piece was a reflection of the Elvis mania that swept South Jersey 30 years ago. According to local news reports at the time, in the days following the singer's death:
* At the Cumberland Mall, a line of mostly "30- to 40-year-old females" formed at Listening Booth, where all Presley records quickly sold out. Elvis posters and shirts, which had been sitting idle for weeks, also sold out at the Osaka novelty store.
* In Glassboro, the Tri-County office of the American Heart Association received a $10 check from a Millville woman, donated in memory of Elvis.
* In Bridgeton, two city women, Pat Christian and Dana Miletta, walked off their jobs to Memphis, where hotel rooms were booked. Wandering for 24 hours, they sat on the wall at Presley's Graceland mansion, and later gained admission to his private funeral after hiding in a florist's truck and posing as reporters.
Their names and photo crept into national wire stories.
|
