"No one knows why Elvis never appealed to the intellectuals," Todd Slaughter muses. "In England, we have our share of college professors and members of the clergy, but they are in the minority. Most of our fans are blue-collar or no-collar."

A short, jovial man with the manner of a beauty contest emcee, Slaughter is almost certainly the world's foremost Elvis fan. As president of the Official Elvis Fan Club of Great Britain and the Commonwealth, he oversees more than 20,000 members. Moreover, he has been filmed with Elvis not once, but twice. Slaughter expounds on the intricacies of the Elvis phenomenon with the good humor and studied patience of a QVC salesman, which, in fact, he has also been. Earlier in the morning, he presided over the shaving of a casino hostess's head, an event that raised $1,000 for the Make-A-Wish Foundation. As we speak in a hallway at the Marriott, several fans approach him for an autograph.

"Elvis penetrated the youth," Slaughter offers, making it clear that he is not opposed to an occasional bit of ribaldry. He says that while the Elvis-oriented summer camps his fan club operates in the U.K. attract a clientele in their 20s, the majority of the members became hooked on Elvis as teenagers in the '50s. He has been bringing British fans to Graceland for more than 30 years, and says that the experience has changed. "Back in the '70s, the tours were very sex-driven, but most of the fans are now too old to shag."

He greets an old acquaintance cheerfully, clapping him on the back. "How are you, you old pedophile?" he says.

When I mention an Elvis prayer meeting I heard about recently, Slaughter nods his head gravely. "The U.K., we're not a religious nation. For us, it's a holiday. The Americans, though, they can take it a bit over the top."

Day 3

It's an overcast afternoon and downtown Memphis is deserted. Even the neon signs on the newly gentrified Beale Street, once home to saloons and gambling parlors where the blues is said to have originated, can't change the mood.

At Elvis Presley's Memphis Restaurant, Beale Street's grandest new establishment, Patsy is conducting an Oprah-style question-and-answer session with Anne Helm and the Browns. Patsy is blond and slim, and wears black leather slacks and a sweater with a flamingo pattern. She is questioning Bonnie Brown about her teenage romance with Elvis. Bonnie, who wears her hair in a plush silver helmet, concedes it was exciting, but demurs on the details. There are some disappointed groans among the tables.

"Can you tell us whether Elvis was a good kisser?" Patsy probes gently.

Bonnie Brown pauses to think. At a nearby table, a woman wearing a large Elvis button loses her patience. "Come on, he was out of this world," she yells.

During the Q&A, a couple in their 60s watches the action from a table near the stage, nodding occasionally. June and Gene Koine have been coming to Graceland since 1976, when they were among the privileged few who spoke to Elvis in the Graceland driveway. June, a soft-spoken former kindergarten teacher, says her fan club is called TCEM in Ohio With TLC, which stands for "Taking Care of Elvis' Memory in Ohio With Tender Loving Care."

When I ask her whether she likes Elvis as a person or as an entertainer, June pauses to think. "I have my own Elvis," she replies finally. "There's love that goes from me to him and from him to me."

"I love him like a brother," Gene offers. "It's like when you meet your girlfriend or wife for the first time, and there's that special electricity. You just can't explain it."

When June had cancer surgery last year, she asked the surgeon to play Elvis' music in the operating room. Her cancer, she says, is now in remission. Like many of the fans I've spoken to, June gets angry at the media for their portrayal of Elvis' personal problems, which she says is hurtful and misinformed. "Elvis had glaucoma and arthritis," she says by way of explaining the drugs found in Elvis' system during the autopsy. "He chose friends who were not loyal."

June and Gene tell me that their children like Elvis "all right," but they are concerned about their 9-year-old grandson's latest musical obsession. "It's one of those rappers who is always saying bad things about the police," June explains. "Elvis would have never done that."

Day 4

The morning of Elvis' birthday is unusually frigid, and a crowd of sleepy fans wrapped in scarves and mittens strolls to the Graceland gazebo to hear the Proclamation. In addition to being excited to hear Mayor Willie W. Herenton declare Jan. 8 Elvis Presley Day in Memphis, everyone is happy about being allowed to walk up to the mansion without having to take the shuttle bus. Shivering in the cold wind, the mayor quickly outlines Elvis' contributions to Memphis and Tennessee, and everyone walks briskly to Graceland Plaza for complimentary cake and coffee at the Chrome Grille.

At a tiny Formica table wedged behind a disemboweled pink Cadillac, a young Asian man with a black pompadour and sideburns shows off the back of his leather jacket, which is airbrushed with the young Elvis' face. Johnny "Elvis" Newinn, a college student who recently placed second in a national impersonator competition, says he first heard Elvis' music when he was growing up in Vietnam. His father sang him the songs while accompanying himself on guitar.

Johnny's father, Henry, is sitting beside him. "When I lived in Hanoi, Elvis was a symbol," he recalls. "He was born with nothing, and became a millionaire." Henry is president of the East Asian Elvis Fan Club, which is located, it turns out, in Dallas. He says that the entire student body of an elementary school in Beaumont, Texas, recently joined the club.

"Mostly minority kids," chimes in Cynthia Presley, who in addition to being the secretary of the East Asian Elvis Fan Club, curates a traveling exhibition of her own Elvis memorabilia. Like the elementary school students from Beaumont, Cynthia Presley is not Asian. She says that she changed her name to Presley in court, and prefers the 1960s Elvis because he was the most sensual.

Recent Stories