By Warner M. Montgomery warner@thecolumbiastar.com

This photograph of Gladys, Elvis, and Vernon Presley hangs in the Presley home.

It was February 18, 1977, and the earth was about to shake. Elvis was coming to town.

 

My wife Linda, a teacher at Crayton Middle School, discovered the father of one of her students was the ticket manager at the Coliseum. A sweaty call, the promise of an easy A, and she had two tickets to see The King!

Linda invited her mother to go with her knowing that 50- year- old Ruth was Elvis' greatest fan. That night, the two Sosbee women donned their bobby socks, slicked down their hair, and waved bye bye to Papa Sosbee.

Elvis appeared in his white Indian feather suit and the crowd went wild. Linda and Ruth saw it all from Third Row Center: See See Rider, I Got A Woman, Love Me, Jailhouse Rock, Little Sister, Don't Be Cruel. Screams. Fainting. When Elvis sang Release Me, the panties hit the stage.

Six months later, The King was dead.

Thirty years later, Linda and I drove into Tupelo. It was sweltering. The smell of cotton bolls and BBQ filled the air. Buses chock full of Europeans stirred up dust and passion in the little Mississippi town. A full- fledged Elvis pilgrimage was underway.

Elvis Aaron Presley was born January 8, 1935, in this house his father had built. The family lived here until they moved to Memphis in 1948. The home is now on the Mississippi Historical Register. Linda escapes from the Mississippi heat in the front porch swing.

A few of the stops in our personal pilgrimage are represented by these photographs.

Linda kisses Elvis goodbye. Our pilgrimage ends. Linda Sosbee stands next to an exact replica of the Presley 1939 Plymouth.