by Cynthia Gunnells
July 21, 2022
I’ve always been drawn to houses with names that sit nobly at the end of cobblestone drives, and to the real-life sagas that unfold in the seemingly-perfect lives of people who live in them. These stories pull me in because rich or poor, we are leveled by our tragedies and our ability to love and thrive no matter what we endure. The greatest equalizer of all though is death, which is why the only thing I love more than roaming the grounds of a rambling estate is exploring a cemetery.
I grew up in a big family. My mom has nine brothers and sisters so we were always traveling in caravans of cousins on the lookout for sightseeing adventures that could accommodate herds of wild children piling out of passenger vans. Where else but graveyards and ghost towns could we run free, stay until sundown and learn a thing or two? I’m pretty sure those summer field trips wandering abandoned buildings and deciphering faded names on marble headstones were the genesis for my love of all things historic.
To this day, cemeteries bring me peace – especially the one that holds the family plot where most of our rowdy crowd will permanently reside one day. My parents stop there often – with a cooler and lawn chairs in tow – to sit in the stillness and reflect on times gone by. There’s something comforting about knowing that no matter where we are now, we will all be back together in the end.
That same nostalgia is part of the lure that draws crowds to one of the most visited mansions and cemeteries in the United States – Graceland.
With the recent release of Baz Luhrmann’s Elvis Presley biopic and the approach of Elvis Week marking the 45th anniversary of Elvis’ death, swarms of die-hard fans will take their pilgrimage to his home and final resting place this summer.
I was a preschooler when Elvis died in the upstairs bathroom of Graceland from a heart attack brought on by his addiction to prescription medication, but I can still remember my mom watching through tears as news reports detailed the 80,000 spectators lining the streets of Memphis for one last glimpse of their fallen idol. Unlike today, a superstar’s death at the age of 42 seemed unfathomable. Equally unbelievable is that on the day of Elvis’ burial, two teens were killed and another critically injured when a local boy drove his car into the mourning crowd holding vigil outside the mansion gates.
1977 was a pivotal year for houses with histories. Grey Gardens’ Big Edie Beale died in February leaving her daughter, Little Edie, to wander its crumbling corridors all alone; and Elvis officially left the building on August 16, never imagining that his Graceland sanctuary would one day be open for public consumption.
After Elvis’ death, management of Graceland fell to his father, Vernon. Two months later, Vernon had the remains of Elvis and his mother moved from their Forrest Hill Cemetery location to the Meditation Garden at Graceland due to security concerns. This proved to be advantageous when, after Vernon’s passing, Elvis’ former wife, Pricilla, turned Graceland into a tourist attraction to secure a financial future for their daughter, Lisa Marie.
Graceland and all of Elvis’ personal belongings are still owned by Lisa Marie. She goes there often and even celebrates holidays in the dining room, just as she did with her dad. While Lisa Marie shares most of the mansion with visitors, the second floor of Graceland is hers alone and remains just as Elvis left it – his Styrofoam cup perched on a bookcase, the last record he listened to still on the turntable.
I had the pleasure of sharing a moment with Lisa Marie years ago after an essay I wrote won me a front row seat to her show in New York. Once I recovered from her staggering beauty and whisky-honey voice, I was touched by her kindness and poise. I had never fully understood the fascination with Elvis, but at that moment it all became clear.
Lisa Marie’s son tragically passed away in 2020 and rests in the Meditation Garden alongside other members of the Presley family. In her emotionally charged track "Lights Out", Lisa Marie sings of the realization that she too, will one day join them there: "Someone turned the lights out there in Memphis /That’s where my family’s buried and gone /Last time I was there I noticed a space left /Next to them, there in Memphis /On that damn back lawn."
With the impacts of generational trauma, financial trouble and grief that follow her, it’s not hard to understand why Lisa Marie finds solace in her childhood home – one that’s frozen in time exactly the way it was when perhaps she last felt secure. For the rest of us, Graceland is a snapshot of America in the 70s, which is what makes it so relatable to the 500,000 visitors a year who are soothed by memories of their own simply by taking it all in.
The items we surround ourselves with and the things we hold close tell a unique story of who we are. I find that browsing antique stores and immersing myself in treasures that others once used to curate their lives is just as powerful as touring their homes or visiting their gravesites. It’s all an act of intimacy that connects the past with the present – and connects us to each other.
My own version of the 1970’s is a sentimental one where my dad and uncles forever resemble Elvis with their sideburns and bell bottoms, and my mom sings along to Elvis songs while packing for those family field trips.
Graceland is both a time capsule and a cautionary tale. While I haven’t been there yet, it’s on my bucket list of things to do before I take my rightful spot in the family plot, just like Lisa Marie.
*February 2024 update: I made the trek to Graceland to visit the Lisa Marie exhibit.