reflecting on elvis

On June 23, 1974, I saw Elvis Presley, live in concert, at the Philadelphia Spectrum. It was a matinee show. I was eight years old, My grandmother took me.

We took the Broad Street Subway from Tasker-Morris all the way to its southernmost conclusion. I'd been to Veterans Stadium ("the Vet") for a Phillies game with my cub scout troop, but never to the Spectrum, which was where the Flyers played. I gathered it was something of a big deal, though. Coming up into the afternoon sun from the subway steps, it was rainy and hot as South Philly summer always is, but more crowded than anything I'd ever been around, save for the Mummers parade (our new years day atrocity).

Venders hawked bootleg pictures and posters and buttons and pendants. My grandmother bought me a photo and a poster (which must have cost a fortune to her). The crowd was charged. You could tell this was going to be better than parades.

We went through the line easily enough. This was back before concerts (and high schools) meant a trip through a metal detector. We sat down, and the lights went dim, but not totally dark. The obligatory opening acts -- the Sweet Inspirations and a comic, Jackie Kahane -- opened the show. I don't really remember much about them.

Then, came the moment. The lights went down, the arena went black, and the band went into "Thus Spake Zarathustra" (the 2001 theme), and everybody hunkered down. The band went from the classical theme into the classic Elvis walk-on music into "CC Rider".

The room exploded into white light. Not from the stage lights, but rather from 18,000 or so Kodak instamatic cameras. As Jim Cavender sayd, "You coulda read a book by the flashcubes through the whole first song."

(Jim saw two Elvis shows in Huntsville around the same time.)

The next hour and change were the most transforming experience of my young life. It wasn't wny different from any other Elvis show in the year and change after the Aloha From Hawaii TV special. Same set list, Elvis in still decent shape.

But the power of music, of Elvis, of being a kid in the presence of true greatness... had I seen Hank Aaron hit a home run in person, or Wilt the Stilt in person, or Ali, I might have chosen a different path.

But I got Elvis. He became a point of reference in my life, and very few things have supplanted that or him. A few.

But, to paraphrase, before anyone else hit me with anything, Elvis hit me with everything.