Baby Let’s Play House: Graceland Semiotics

The first king this nation ever had was a failure at keeping his subjects obedient. But we had a second one, and his majesty shall forever remain the true King of this land. Ladies and gentleman, Elvis Presley. Long live the King.
Elvis often said, “don’t criticize what you don’t understand, son. You never walked in that man’s shoes.” The phrase, which was an Elvisified version of an old quote, is an elegant summation of Elvis’ attraction. His rise to cult-like status personified the rags-to-riches American Dream. Yet his celebrity sings in the hearts of millions because of its ability to remain human, scarred with his addictions and flaws but rooted in the stories of the country boy.
There is no denying (even for the most cynical of cultural observers) Elvis’ impression on the American psyche. He stands as one of the most ubiquitous figures of the past century, and his idolization grows trenchant with each passing year (simply note the hoopla surrounding the 25th anniversary of his death). Consequently, a trip to Graceland, the King’s beloved home and final resting place, is no mere stop on the American Heritage Trail, but rather, a quasi-religious pilgrimage for the cult of Elvis (and there is scarce a head in this fair land that hasn’t been touched). For $25.25 worshippers can reconnect with the hip-gyratin’ spirit that haunts the halls of the mansion— a small price to pay for spiritual awakening. That which is Elvis is part of history, our history, and the pleasure and joy we feel when we walk in “that man’s shoes” typifies the experience of being American, feeling the energy, honesty, and rebellion that he embodied and we so cherish.
Graceland, located at the top of a hill of Interstate 51 near Memphis, is the second most-visited estate in the country (second, of course, to a “white house” on Pennsylvania Avenue). The house and grounds are maintained by Elvis Presley Enterprises, Inc.; it’s careful orchestration of space very much akin to the control spaces of Disney. Furthermore, like Disney, Graceland is a wonderful parable of place in stasis—one rooted in preservation and mystery. From the dining room, to the music room, to the infamous jungle room each space has been meticulously conserved as if the King never left (the building). And for the visitor consumption relies on the truth that this was how the King imagined it and how he lived it. Preserving the space as Elvis inhabited it also entails sustaining the respectability of Elvis, as Karal Ann Marling notes, “The Graceland tour is generally careful to avoid anecdotes that might lend support to the unbeliever’s mental image of a bulging, besotted King who was fatally out of control or dying his very excessiveness (Marling, 185).” Conscious effort by Presley Enterprises is made to retain the image of Elvis that permeates the hearts of his most fervent fans. Observers never make it to the second floor of the house; they never see the bedroom or the bathroom floor on which he died. While we are all fully aware of the corruptions of our King, in this space of reverence, respect must be paid, and we lovingly do so, content merely to bask in the gold and purple glow of the living room walls. As visitors, we take our steps, eyes wide open, and ears glued to audioguides, where we soak in all the gaudy, tacky furniture pieces (scarlet satin chairs with rhinestones to name one) that remind us that Elvis was without a doubt one of us, impulsive and materialistic, subject to perpetual bad taste, yet endearingly swept up in our gloriously American need to collect, buy…consume. Unlike our other glorified celebrities, a trip to Graceland solidifies not simply the mystique of Elvis, the man that brought us the music, Hollywood, and all that jazz, but also ferments the belief in his mortality, a mortality that we believe he whole heartedly adored. And for the rest of the world, Graceland opportunes a chance “to be American;” to see what it is like to experience our lives from the inside, know our hero worship. After years of cultural imperialism, no foreigner can fight the allure of Graceland.
Graceland is anomaly on the National Register of Historic Places. While it is indisputably a site of national history perpetuating much of the preservationist ethic, it is complicated by its accessibility. As Marling states, “Graceland is a historical marker in time not-quite past. We still remember rooms like these—and live in them besides…the house quivers with the shock that clings to places where life has been interrupted, stopped dead in its tracks. Death and sorrow came here, to a place we know…And they will come for us some day (Marling 2-4).” Graceland’s ability to transcend history into reality gives it life; just as “Elvis lives” the wonder of the place thrives on its capacity to engender vitality. As such, the space is continually harnessed to sustain this circle, from Christmas parties to Elvis Week, it feeds off the need to fuel the everlasting fire of the King.
But what Graceland must do above all else is nourish the cult. As many authors on Elvis have acknowledged “Graceland is Elvis.” It is the quintessential artifact we have to feel those ineffable qualities that make Elvis what he is, Erika Doss describes “the feel” as, “It cannot be captured…You cannot draw it. You cannot write it…You can’t even explain it. YOU HAVE TO FEEL IT—IT MUST BE FELT BECAUSE IT COMES STRAIGHT FROM THE HEART (Doss, 36).” And this is inherently the true power of Graceland; a physical space that triggers indescribable emotional responses. Few places (mostly religious or personal sites of memory) illicit such reactions, but Graceland manages it through its unique perversion of American dreams. In Graceland, the Elvis image is a carefully organized character, one geared to profits and consumption, but also at an advantage because the product is so loved, so revered, that the marketing and the selling bear little on the conscience. When we make our pilgrimages to Graceland we do so out of respect and obligation. Graceland, a space once a hallmark of Southern aristocracy, is now a living history of what we see in ourselves, our flaws, our failures, our hidden desires, as well as our dreams, our ideas, and our identities. Presley Enterprises can try to sell it any way they want, but we’ll keep coming back because deep down, we know that the home of the King is our home too.

Works Cited
Doss, Erika. “Believing in Elvis: popular piety in a material culture.” Business Perspectives. Summer 2002, v14. 30-38.
Marling, Karal Ann. Graceland: Going Home With Elvis. Cambridge: Harvard. 1996.
Williamson, Joel. “Graceland.” American Places: Encounters With History A Celebration of Sheldon Meyer. Ed. William E. Leuchtenburg. New York: Oxford. 2000. 325-339.