Presley and the $125m war

ABOVE the meadows that the King once called his own, the rain clouds have darkened the sky and the downpour is approaching biblical proportions.

Puddles form on the gravel driveway where the King once trod, water besieges the roof of the small, wooden house where the King once lived.

This old ranch house in northern Mississippi, close to Tennessee, is now a flower shop. Debbie Henson sells blooms and bunches to excited brides-to-be and to high-school girls preparing for their prom celebrations. Elsewhere there are funeral wreaths and cards and bunches of lilies. The air is fragrant. Outside, a sign reads: "The Flower Patch - Shop in Elvis' Honeymoon Cottage".

"Most things are the same as when Elvis was here," says Mrs Henson, welcoming and pleased to grant a dampened visitor a tour of the whitepainted ranch building. "This carpet was here when Elvis was here. The floor and the woodwork are original.

Everything, really - except for the bathroom."

Elvis himself has, of course, long since left the building. This summer, on 16 August, it will be 25 years since the world's most famous pop star suffered a massive heart attack and fell unconscious to the floor of the lavatory in the racquetball room of his Graceland mansion. His puffy, drug-corrupted body - which had ballooned to nearly 18 stone - was rushed to Memphis's Baptist Memorial Hospital, where it was announced that the King was dead.

Were he alive today, Elvis would be 67.

But although Elvis might be dead - despite reports to the contrary from people who have seen him serving chips in Doncaster, square- dancing in Oregon or, most recently, buying two chicken mega-buckets at KFC in Glasgow - his legacy is emphatically not.

This anniversary year, in addition to the existing commercial exploitation of his memory, Elvis is top of the charts with a remix of the obscure A Little Less Conversation, the soundtrack to the explosive Nike World Cup advert.

His music will feature on a new Walt Disney cartoon; there will be new albums; Elvis furniture will fill certain stores in the US; and, without a trace of irony, McDonald's will offer special Elvis-themed meals. It looks as if 2002 is going to be Elvis's year.

By far the biggest venture, however, is planned for the gently sloping fields here at Horn Lake, about 10 miles south of Memphis. Elvis bought the so-called Circle G Ranch in March 1967, paying $437,000 (about pounds 1.6 million today) for the 160 acres, as a place to keep his horses. Yet now, controversially, under a $500 million plan put forward by JD Stacy, a 72-year-old tycoon and property developer from Atlanta, Georgia, the Circle G Ranch is to be transformed into an Elvis theme park and convention centre with an 18- hole golf course, holiday homes, luxury apartments and a museum featuring the world's largest collection of Elvis memorabilia.

Elsewhere there will be restaurants, three chapels, a cinema and scale recreations of the White House and Graceland. Fans will be able to make recordings - in much the same way as Elvis did, when he paid $4 to record My Happiness at the Sun Records studios in 1953. Stacy, a colourful character who made his money in gold and diamond mining, believes that it will lure up to three million visitors a year.

But there are some who are not so delighted. Stacy is not the first to think of founding a tourist attraction on Elvis's memory. Just 10 miles down the road are the great, gaudy gates of Graceland, the world's best-known and, probably, most lucrative pop-pilgrimage destination. Leading the opposition to Stacy are those courtiers who were closest to the King - his daughter, Lisa Marie, his ex-wife, Priscilla, and the Elvis Presley estate, which has threatened Stacy and the developers with legal action should they use the name Elvis Presley in any form.

"It's not pretty," says Todd Morgan, director of media and creative development for Elvis Presley Enterprises (EPE), which is effectively Elvis's estate and whose board is chaired by Lisa Marie. "Elvis Presley is a trademark ...

and for people to use the Elvis Presley name is a violation of the trademark."

MORGAN adds: "We can all run out on the front porch and shout 'Elvis, Elvis', but to develop a commercial venture is different. The name is the basis of everything we have. Elvis banked his own creativity as a business venture ... it is his legacy." In Memphis one hears a lot of talk of Elvis's legacy, about how his memory must be preserved, not cheapened. A woman preparing for a recent tour of Graceland was overheard saying that the King would not have welcomed tourists at the palace. "Elvis wouldn't have wanted this," she said, "he wouldn't have wanted his house opened up."

Maybe. Maybe not. It is hardly the point. Despite everything you hear about preserving the legacy of Elvis, one doesn't need to be in town too long to guess that this row is really all about money. The focus of the existing money-making operation is a Thirties farmhouse overlooking the renamed Elvis Presley Boulevard. The farmhouse was built by a family called Moore and named after an Aunt Grace.

When Elvis, aged 22, paid cash for the building and the land in 1957, he saw no reason to change its name. It will forever be Graceland.

Graceland opened to the public on 7 June 1982, almost five years after Elvis's death. Some 300,000 people visited that year. By the mid-Nineties, there were 750,000. Even today, around 600,000 people a year pay $16 (about pounds 11) to tour the house where Elvis spent most of his life, where he played and fooled around with friends, where he recorded a number of songs and where he was to die that August morning.

Going to Graceland is not like visiting any other historic monument. For many, the trip contains a degree of ritualism. It is part tourism, part rock 'n' roll hajj. "I just wanted to come here and see it. You hear so much about it," said Kathryn Edwards, 36, from Cardiff, visiting with her mother, Margaret. "He has become a legend ... the fact that he died so young. The older you get, the more the legend fades."

But inside Graceland you realise there are those determined the legend will never fade. "Welcome to my world," croons the King through the guided-tour headset. Throughout the hour or so it takes to wander through the surprisingly small house, recordings of Elvis and his daughter are included on the audio guide. The mood is one of reverence.

From a purely historic perspective, it is interesting to see decor and fittings that, in the Sixties and early Seventies must have seemed cuttingedge - green deep-pile carpet on the ceiling, a 20ft white sofa and three televisions fitted next to each other.

Today it all feels terribly dated.

Indeed, despite Elvis's soothing voice and the photographs of him as a vigorous young man, it is rather melancholy. At the grave, where Elvis lies next to his parents, visitors shuffle past, snapping the occasional photograph and reading the tributes. "God sent a special angel, rich in love," begins a handwritten poem left by a Debbie Joy, from Sidcup in Kent.

Melancholy or not, the fans lap this up - and more besides. Visitors are offered a photograph of themselves in front of a mock- up of the Graceland gates.

LIKEWISE, who can resist the Chrome Grille, Rockabilly's Diner or the Shake, Split and Dip - all at the so-called Graceland Plaza - and emulating Elvis by wolfing down some southern cooking, burgers or ice- cream? And where do Elvis pilgrims lay their heads?

Where else but Elvis Presley's Heartbreak Hotel, with Elvis hits played constantly, and his 31 films showing on the in-house entertainment.

All of this is operated and owned by Elvis's estate. Quite how much it earns is a matter for speculation: as a private company, EPE refuses to reveal its profits. But informed opinion estimates its annual turnover at up to $75 million, while the value of the estate is thought to have risen from less than $5 million at Elvis's death to more than $125 million today.

And the estate is determined to protect the source of this income.

It may be feeling a little threatened.

For the first time since Elvis's death, questions are being asked about Graceland's drawing power: last year, with visitor numbers down, EPE laid off 15 per cent of its 350 staff. Is the lustre finally beginning to fade?

EPE denies this - the slight downturn, it says, was the result of the recession and 11 September, which affected all tourist attractions. It says that this anniversary year is going to be bigger than ever. "Elvis's popularity is at an all-time high. Half of the visitors we get are under 35 years old," says Morgan. "Elvis has always (been embraced) by a new generation and we have ... always realised that has a lot to do with the future."

JD Stacy's reasoning - that you might as well see where his horses lived as well - may or may not appeal to the punters, but it certainly shows no sign of finding favour with the Elvis estate. On the contrary, the row rumbles along more noisily by the day. Last month, the Circle G project overcame objections about potential traffic congestion to obtain planning permission.

Now the dispute is focusing on the new project's name. The developers plan to call their attraction "The Circle G Resort: Home of the Elvis Presley Ranch". Hardly the snappiest name, but that hasn't made it any more popular with EPE's lawyers.

Having obtained planning permission, JD Stacy's company now intends to hold its foundation-laying ceremony this summer. With no small degree of symbolism, the developers have chosen the morning of 16 August.

The King is dead, long live the King.

Copyright 2002
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