1341) It's Death Week here in Memphis, the week leading up to the mass veneration of Elvis Presley's grave [...] [i]t's the central ritual in Elvis Culture, a phenomenon that has lately transcended the familiar contours of a dead celebrity cult and has begun to assume the dimensions of a redemptive faith. [...] I've been hearing about the Death Night ceremony, about the way it's grown into a must-see sui generis American folk ritual, a fusion of our longing for spirituality and our lust for celebrity. [...] It has become a truism that the three most identifiable names in the world are Jesus, Coca-Cola and Elvis. What's remarkable is that, to some, Elvis has come to seem less like the soft drink - just another commodity - and more like a savior.

Ron Rosenbaum
"Among the Believers"
New York Times Magazine (9/24/1995)

1342) Peter Whitmer delivered a paper on Elvis as a "Twinless Twin," his take on the thesis that the primal defining event of Elvis's life occurred in the moments before his birth, when his twin, Jesse Garon Presley, emerged stillborn, leaving Elvis a lifelong legacy of loss, pain and survivor guilt. Some say Elvis would "talk to" Jesse for the rest of his life. And that every song he sang was really a duet - with the ghost of his dead twin. (Other "twinless twins," according to Whitmer: Liberace, Diego Rivera, Thorton Wilder, Philip K. Dick and - yes - Ed Sullivan.)

Ron Rosenbaum
"Among the Believers"
New York Times Magazine (9/24/1995)

1343) "This [Sun Studios in Memphis, where Sam Phillips discovered Elvis Presley] is a place of life," one woman was saying, "while Graceland - I was just over there and it's so sad."

"Sad because of what became of him?" I asked her.

"No," she said, "sad because of what became of us."

But that's precisely why America has come to love and embrace the Late, Fat, Pain-Racked, Self-Destructive Elvis. It's a way of coming to terms with our own sense of loss, with what's become of us as a nation - the transition America has made from the young, vital, innocent pioneer nation we once were (the young vital Elvis we put on our stamps) to the bloated colossus we feel we've become: the Fat Elvis of nations. For America, finding a way to love the fat, sweaty figure Elvis turned into, the heartbroke, pain-and-pill-filled impersonator of greatness, may be our way of finding, in our own decline, some forgiveness, some humor, even some healing.

Ron Rosenbaum
"Among the Believers"
New York Times Magazine (9/24/1995)