Note: My brother and my husband gave me a stern talking to. So please make this correction from a few days ago: Our delightful dining partners were three single men, two of whom are best friends. The third is a federal judge with a great sense of humor!
We left our luggage outside our room at 11 pm last night. This morning, we woke up at 6 am and quickly packed up the few remaining things into our carry-ons. Then we were ready for a big day ahead— Graceland!
Our big bus rolled up to the curling gates of the fine home. Considering the plantation homes and city mansions we’ve visited, this house seemed spacious but not excessive in size. Elvis bought it early on so he could move his parents out of their humble abode. The furnishings were the thing in this house and just the idea that he had lived here. Really, this is a tour for adoring fans who want to see the Jungle Room (complete with an indoor waterfall, tiki sculptures, and a carpeted ceiling, and the famous basement TV room with a huge sofa all decorated in black and yellow. He included three TVs side by side because he’d learned that LBJ had three TVs on simultaneously to watch multiple news programs at once. Appropriately, Elvis also had a movie screen that pulled down and a hidden projector. It looked like a fun party house— with an upholstered pool room too!
When he died, he was buried at the local cemetery, but because of his fame and the rumor that he’d been interred with $250 thousand dollars of jewelry, his father didn’t think his grave was safe. He asked for permission to have the remains moved to Graceland. This meant declaring an area of the property as a licensed cemetery, which it is. The Meditation Garden now has four graves and a plaque for Elvis’ twin brother who was stillborn. The other graves are for his parents and his grandmother. And because it is a cemetery, it has to be opened to the public for at least one hour a week, Fridays from 7-8 am.
We toured the cars and saw the Rolls Phantom V and the Silver Cloud. Still like new. Another nice exhibit was the Hall of Influencers. Life-size statues of other musicians who were inspired by Elvis filled this fall and contained everyone from Dolly Parton to Jimi Hendrix. Pretty cool connections there.
After Graceland, our guide took the whole huge bus (with just 16 people aboard) on a driving/walking tour of Beale Street. Our guide was good. He took us to the Elvis statue and told the story of the statue being removed for repairs. During its absence, our guide happened by, and took the opportunity to jump up on the plinth and pose for pictures as the new Elvis! (When police happened by, he was asked never to come to Beale Street again. Some years have passed, and he’s grown a beard, so he thinks he won’t be noticed!) We saw lots of fun neon signs for rocking food and music stores. Lansky’s, the store that poor, young Elvis visited so often, had once been on Beale Street. When Elvis made it big, he repaid Lansky by moving his store inside the Peabody Hotel. We saw the FedEx Stadium and the Rock and Soul Museum, but no time to go inside.
The plan was to stay on the bus until it came back to the Sheraton. There, we were assured that we could leave our luggage for a few hours and see the rest of the town, then catch a cab to the airport. Our fabulous bus driver had a better idea, drop our luggage at the famous Peabody Hotel, walk down to Beale Street, toodle around, and then back to the hotel where we could catch a cab to the airport. It worked perfectly. We started with a lovely lunch at the Peabody and ended by taking pictures of the ducks swimming in the indoor fountain. The 5 pm duck-parade was truly an experience as ducks match across the foyer—would happen after we left, but we saw them. First, we needed to take a photo of the W.C. Handy statue in Handy Park and actually visit the fabulous Rock and Soul Museum, both of which we did!
This trip has been even more a tour of musical history than Civil War history. Music is such a huge part of the formation of the delta and the crying out of souls as they suffer and try to get along together. This museum took us from the poorest beginnings with mules pulling plows while workers followed along in time, humming and crying the blues to the fun of songs with goofy lyrics about cows and heartache, on to dance music, radio (WDIA, the first Black radio station) and finally to great financial success with recordings and music tours. The whole museum is set up like a traditional golf course, 9 out and 9 back. We went from room to room all the way to the back of the building, then turned the corner and came back to the gift shop and exit. It was compact and told a clear story. Apparently, organizers from the Smithsonian helped with the set-up which is why this museum does such a great job in such a limited space. (Once again, I think of that African American museum in Natchez and how much they could benefit from a few glass cases, some video recordings, and a one-million-dollar donation!)
Our taxi driver continued the tour as we drove to the airport. I was impressed with his disappointment that we hadn’t made it to the Civil Rights Museum and his nod to our efforts to seek out the musical history of the city. Memphis is a good city named after an ancient city on the Nile, and a fitting name for a city that preserves its history even as it tries to improve its future.
We caught our plane right on time. Easy flight home. Good night.