LURE OF THE HORIZON

Memphis, Tennessee

     Fifty eight minutes from wheels up in Kansas City to wheels down in Memphis, TN.  I slept through the beverage cart sprinting by and woke just before the rubber hit the runway.  Through the airport, into the rental car, and straight to the job.  By 9 a.m. my “work” was complete and I had approximately eleven hours to take in as much as I possibly could.

     I picked up my cell phone, opened the GPS Navigation and said, “Graceland” into the voice command.  The technological leash guided my way and ten minutes later I rolled up Elvis Presley Boulevard to the home of the King of Rock and Roll.  The grounds were barren except for the few security guards that were just coming on duty.  The first tour wasn’t until 10 a.m. so I walked around the Convair 880 jet named the Lisa Marie now parked across the street from the house.  It was massive and I found myself envisioning a life where I could travel to any place with a straight piece of asphalt big enough to land my plane.  Elvis truly was the king!

     By the time I wandered back inside to buy a tour ticket a crowd had formed; a surprisingly large crowd for a wintery overcast Monday morning.  I was Waldo in a page full of charicatures of what you would expect a Graceland tour group to look like.  (I tell myself that but I suppose the reality is I was every bit one of them.)  We were issued a digital headset for our self guided tour and a small bus took us across to the mansion.  I stepped out of the bus and there I was, at the base of the entrance of Graceland.  I looked left and right, up and down, and all I could think was…  that’s it? 

     Admittedly the inside, although rightfully dated and small by today’s standards, was just cool.  This is where Elvis sat.  Elvis walked this hallway.  This is where Elvis ate.  Everything had an almost religious vibe to it - tangible yet transcendent.  Being a fan of rock and roll I can appreciate the contribution of Elvis Presley but often think the legend has outgrown the man.  Either way I was with throngs of other sheep being herded because we were in Memphis and that’s what you do in Memphis; you see Graceland.  The living room was ornate with peacock stained glass and white furniture.  The kitchen was relatively small, but according to Lisa Marie who was talking into my headset during that part of the tour, was where everyone gathered.  And just beyond the kitchen is the famous jungle room where the green carpet on the floor matched the green carpet on the ceiling.  I wasn’t sure what to expect from the jungle room that I heard about so often, but that wasn’t it.  The let down of the room itself was counterbalanced by the fact that Elvis recorded his last two albums in that room.  We’ll call it a wash. 

     The tour concluded at the grave of the king himself.  I equate that with seeing the Eiffel Tower, the Grand Canyon, and the Topless Tenors in Las Vegas.  It was something that only after seeing, I deemed my life a little more fulfilled.  Long Live the King!

     Next stop - Beale Street, often called “The home of the blues”.

     As I followed my GPS directions towards Beale Street I saw signs pointing the way to Sun Studio.  Sun Studio is a gem that I hadn’t considered.  I could not leave Memphis without seeing it with my own eyes.

     The entrance to Sun Studio is, of course, the gift shop where you buy the tickets for the tour as well as t-shirts, stickers, hats, shot glasses, and everything else that could fit the Sun logo.  I bought the ticket and spent my half an hour wait for the tour to begin looking at the pictures and memorabilia on the walls.  Immediately I realized that, even though I knew that a few rock legends got their start at Sun, I had no idea what role that building truly played in the conception and mass exposure of rock and roll music. 

     Our tour guide, El Dorado (lead singer of the not so famous El Dorado and the Ruckus), escorted us up the stairs and into a small, one room museum.  El Dorado gave the tour with an incredible amount of animation as well as undeniable conviction.  He had a passion for the subject and a genuine charisma that led me to want to take the tour again just to hear him talk. 

      I stood in overwhelming revernce in the small studio room where Elvis, Johnny Cash, Carl Perkins, Jerry Lee Lewis, Howling Wolf, Roy Orbison, as well as others wrote and recorded.  It was… heavy and it touched my soul.

     I spent my last few hours walking up and down the world famous Beale Street where the “Memphis Blues” were born.  The style was molded by the likes of Beale Street regulars like B.B. King, Louis Armstrong, Albert King, and Muddy Waters.  I stumbled into Dyer’s for a double cheeseburger, a Budweiser, and a fried twinkie. 

     Blues bars lined both sides of the block spewing soulful notes from pentatonic minor scales.  My favorite memory of Beale was the woman I heard belting out the blues as good as anyone I had ever heard.  I couldn’t tell if it was a band or a recording that seduced my ears, but either way, her voice was hypnotic and strong and dominated the other sounds along the street.  As I approached the courtyard where the sound was coming from I was amazed.  A three piece band played up on the stage to a couple of dozen completely empty tables.  The singer, with a cordless mic, sat alone at a table singing like she was in a sold out arena, as she casually flipped through a magazine.  Unbelievable!      

     Heading back north up Beale street I stopped in at Silky O’Sullivans, the Rum Boogie Cafe, and B.B. King’s Blues Club to sample adult beverages before flying out.  The sun had disappeared and so did my time.  Over the span of twelve hours I consumed every ounce of Memphis I could get, and I loved it. 

     One last stop at Interstate Bar-B-Que for a plate of barbecued spaghetti and back on to the airplane. 

     Memphis, it was a true pleasure.