About book Last Train To Memphis: The Rise Of Elvis Presley (1995)
He wasn't my king For black people, Elvis, more than any other performer, epitomises the theft of their music and dance Helen KolawoleThursday August 15, 2002The Guardian As another celebration of a dead white hero winds up, in this hallowed Week of Elvis, shouldn't the entertainment industry hold its own truth and reconciliation commission? It needn't be a vehicle for retribution, just somewhere where tales of white appropriation of black culture, not to mention outright theft, can finally be laid to rest. Following Michael Jackson's recent outburst accusing Sony chief, Tony Mottola, of racism, perhaps he could officiate and champion all black musicians who have been ripped off by nasty white music business CEOsThis won't happen of course. Media arrogance and dishonesty means we are eternally bound to live in a skewed world where Elvis is king of rock'n'roll, Clapton is the guitar god, Sinatra is the voice and Astaire is the greatest dancer. Accustomed as we are to this parade of white heroes, the case of Elvis is particularly infuriating because for many black people he represents the most successful white appropriation of a black genre to date. Elvis also signifies the foul way so many black writers and performers, such as Little Richard, were treated by the music industry. The enduring image of Elvis is a constant reflection of society's then refusal to accept anything other than the non-threatening and subservient negro: Sammy Davies Jnr and Nat King Cole. The Elvis myth to this day clouds the true picture of rock'n'roll and leaves its many originators without due recognition. So what is left for black people to celebrate? How he admirably borrowed our songs, attitude and dance moves? Public Enemy's prolific commentator, Chuck D, was clear on why he felt compelled to attack the pretender's iconic status. In their 1989 song Fight the Power, he rapped: "Elvis was a hero to most/ But he never meant shit to me you see/ Straight up racist that sucker was simple and plain/ Motherfuck him and John Wayne." To contend that Elvis was a racist is hardly shocking. ("The only thing black people can do for me is shine my shoes and buy my music", he once opined.) And, as a dirt poor Southerner raised in close but separate proximity to black people, his racism would hardly have distinguished him from millions of others. Chuck D's attack was not aimed at Elvis the person, but Elvis the institution. But in the face of much black criticism of Elvis, some writers have offered their own theories as to why the singer should be awarded more, not less accolades. Michael T Bertrand's Race, Rock and Elvis contends that the arrival of Elvis and rock'n'roll helped white Southerners to rethink their attitude to race and gave as yet unacknowledged impetus to the burgeoning civil rights movement. And this week the Daily Mirror's Tony Parsons imagined a world without Elvis as a cultural armageddon. "Elvis changed the soul of modern music," he argues. "Without him, Madonna would be a teacher in Detroit." He also quotes John Lennon's remark that "before Elvis there was nothing". An Elvis-free world would have seen black music remaining "underground" and "segregated", Parsons suggests. But the reality is, black music never stays underground. White people always seek it out, dilute it and eventually claim it as their own. From Pat Boone's Tutti Frutti to current boyband sensations N Sync and Blue. This is fine, but be honest about it. Putting Parsons's vision into practice, let's imagine that instead of Elvis mania, Big Momma Thornton - author of Hound Dog - reigns supreme with her ode to no-good men. Big Momma's cultural conquest gives birth to a radical white teen culture and a complete and lasting overhaul of America's putrid racial politics. White teens frighten their parents silly with their extreme bids not to become Elvis's pale imitation of the black performers he witnessed, but the very image of Big Momma. Sounds outlandish? Any more audacious than stubbornly maintaining that this talented - but more importantly white - man deserves to be king of a genre created by black people? Whether we remember him as an obese, drug-addled misogynist or a hip-swinging rebel, let's call him what he is - the all-conquering great white hope - and demand the entertainment industry never again makes such a deceitful claimGary North responded, in the Guardian:Helen Kolawole made a factual mistake. She forgot to look up who wrote "Hound Dog." She also did not know about Johnny Otis' role in launching Big Mama's career. Big Mama had a lot of help from a couple of Jews and a Greek. This makes Ms. Kolawole's tirade look silly. This can happen to anyone who invokes some fact as a symbol of an all-important cultural movement, and the fact turns out to be wrong. But what about her main point? What about the aleged theft of black culture by crackers like Elvis? First, the story of Elvis' roots in black music is as familiar as his legendary pelvis. Second, he really did have natural rhythm – again, the pelvis. What is the problem here? The fact that Little Richard never made the transition to ballads, or that Chuck Berry never ate grilled peanut butter and banana sandwiches? Are reparation royalty payments next? Bill Monroe's version of "Blue Moon of Kentucky" is not much like Elvis' version. There is no doubt that rock-a-billy has a lot of black in it. When Elvis was interviewed for the first time on radio by the Memphis disk jockey who had launched his career by playing his record over and over, DJ Dewey Phillips (no relation to Sam) kept mentioning Elvis' high school, which was a white school. Phillips wanted no confusion on that score. Jerry Lee Lewis' initial piano style was influenced by the black boogie-woogie piano style. His cousins, Jimmy Swaggart and Mickey Gilley, were not equally influenced. But to argue that Lewis was not initially part of the white gospel piano tradition would be ridiculous. In his later career, the white country music tradition became dominant. Music is a universal language, like mathematics and money. It knows few borders. (OK, maybe Chinese music does. I hope so, anyway.) Jazz began in the return of black bands from graveyard internments in New Orleans. But the bands played white hymns out to the above-ground graves. Black guilt masters are everywhere. Some of them are doing their best to claim that their people invented the dominant popular music forms. I will let them retain title to rap. But as for other imports into and out of the world of the ghetto, let us say that royalties have been paid both ways.
Explaining Elvis Presley as a cultural phenomenon remains an elusive task. Some twenty years after publication of the first volume of Peter Guralnick’s two-volume study of Elvis Presley, and nearly thirty-seven years after the entertainer’s death, there is little sign that the King’s popularity may be lessening. On the contrary, Elvis appears to be more popular today than he was when he gasped his last breath in 1977 face-down in the shag carpeting of his Graceland bedroom.Like Elvis himself, Guralnick’s biography has stood the test of time. Despite its flaws as a historical account, it is still the standard reference on the details of Elvis Presley’s life and career. Last Train to Memphis is a rather long book, and the narrative lumbers along under what sometimes seems like a crushing burden of historical detail, often about what some readers may regard as inconsequential adolescent peculiarities of a poor white boy in the American south of the 1950s. Yet, that poor white boy, and especially his offbeat interests and obsessions, reveal some mysterious key to the American youth culture that erupted from its adolescent somnambulism in a decade marked by both national prosperity and social unrest.Despite the unquestionable impact of his subject’s emergence on the national scene, Guralnick maintains a local focus; red scares and civil rights never intrude into the personal tale of the Presley family making do among the other urban poor in Memphis. Even when the superstar entertainer enters the Army at the end of the first volume, there is no attempt to explain the necessity of a peacetime military draft and how the government was able to conscript such an influential figure at the height of his career. Guralnick stays focused on the Elvis story.For Guralnick, staying focused on Elvis involves exploring the web of personal relationships that made his superstardom possible. A confluence of genius surrounds the young Presley, from Sam Phillips to Dewey Phillips to Tom Parker, and a varied collection of minor characters making their contributions as well. Elvis is the hero throughout, the unblemished saint with natural if unpolished musical ability whose likeable good manners, voracious curiosity and knack for innovation, uncanny awareness of audience response, and unwavering ambition to be famous, catapult him to the top of the entertainment world in unprecedented time. Guralnick documents the details of this remarkable career and the personality behind it, sometimes to tedium, but often with dramatic depth.His journalistic style and his devotion to documenting the previously untold factual details of Elvis Presley’s life and career steers Guralnick away from outright commentary about the social contexts and moral implications of the Elvis phenomena. His uncritical tone, however, reveals his own somewhat star-struck affection for the King. Elvis’s sexuality remains almost entirely undiscussed, even though there is page after numbing page of the multitude of women he was “dating,” and his constant need for the companionship of multiple male “pals” is never questioned in terms of its erotic implications. Elvis’s moral character remains above reproach even as he allows his business manager Tom Parker to deal underhandedly with the loyal bandmates who accompanied Elvis on the crucial early rise to stardom—the plight of Scotty Moore and Bill Black only hint at the superficial nature of the star’s moral character. Another area that Guralnick glosses over is the complex relationships between blacks and whites in Memphis and throughout the south during this era. The young Elvis lived in a world of state-sanctioned racial segregation, and although Guralnick pays some attention African American influences, there is scant discussion of the ability of a white youth to benefit from crossing cultural boundaries in ways that were unavailable to black youth of the time.Certainly Guralnick has compiled a wealth of valuable details in this remarkable if largely uncritical biography of Elvis Presley. As has been often remarked, this is one of the earliest serious studies of a cultural phenomenon that continues to confound a host of commentators; Last Train to Memphis marks a huge improvement over the mostly sensationalist tabloid accounts that preceded it. Indeed, it remains the baseline for subsequent critical studies of the King of Rock and Roll.
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Another book I picked up after last fall’s trips to visit my friends Heather and Clay in the wonderful city of Memphis. Great book, couldn’t put it down. Reviewers say it’s the best book on Elvis around. Haven’t read much about Elvis, but I can’t imagine it getting much better than this. A very sympathetic account, it keeps an eye on what is important about Elvis – his astonishing talents – and not the sordid stuff (although the sordid stuff is mentioned). To my delight, Elvis’s Army buddy Rex Mansfield is mentioned several times (and quoted) towards the end of the book – I met Rex in the course of my career in utility equipment sales. Rex was a rep for American equipment in Germany, and visited us several times at the factory. He told us Elvis stories, which pretty much thrilled me. Lots of girls over in Germany when you hung out with Elvis. Lots of girls… Pretty cool to say I know a guy who knew Elvis. Which is about as cool as I’m ever going to get.
—M. D. Hudson
The omnipotent sex appeal. The innate talent. The taste. The clothes. The moves. Yes, I noticed it too: reading this biography of Elvis Presley was like a plagiarism of my life. The meteoric rise of the Pelvis is documented with great research and even greater restraint, bringing the larger-to-life Presley into a perspective that creates empathy for the man behind the legend. I'm eager to read the companion piece that follows Elvis' tour of duty in the armed servieces and later years to learn how I'll end up. I'm sure it's a happy conclusion.
—Peter Landau
This is the first half of Guralnick's mammoth bio of Elvis and takes up to his drafting into the Army and departure for Germany. As with many biographies, the early part of The King's life are actually quite mundane and boring and the author dwells on tedious details, such as exactly what Elvis and his then sweetheart did on their date that night, what Elvis wore, and so on and so on. Even after Elvis's 'discovery' by Sam Philips at Sun Records (in fact, Elvis made self-financed two demos before being noticed), Guralnick seems determined to overwhelm the reader with details about Elvis' life and quotes someone about almost every major, or minor, event in his development. This is probably designed to present the 'real' Elvis, without the mythology, but I think some insightful commentary on what made his so huge, and into his music, might not have gone amiss - much of the time it is just a laundry list of factoids, which are not only tedious but also tell us little about the wider cultural context. One thing that does emerge is that Elvis came out of a tradition of both (white) country-hillbilly and (black) gospel spiritual music and he admitted that the latter was formative in his development of his style (Arthur Cudrup is often cited in that respect), but he was certainly not the only one to do this and certainly not the last.
—Andrewh
