In one typical 1951 segment: Air check, Red Hot and Blue, December 2, 1951.
“If you have a song”: Lydel Sims, “Rocket Becomes Flying Disc, Spins Toward Record Glory,” Memphis Commercial Appeal, March 28, 1951.
“Do like me”: This is an adaptation of one of Dewey Phillips expert Charles Raiteri’s fine evocations of Dewey’s patter and style.
He had run away from home: Various interviews with Jimmy Denson, 1989–92.
made the papers for performing: Rhea Talley, “Early A.M. Audition Needed by Lee Denson, Guitarist,” Memphis Commercial Appeal, August 5, 1956.
He didn’t want to teach Elvis: Interview with Lee Denson, 1989.
Lee’s friends Dorsey Burnette and his younger brother, Johnny: Background information on the Burnettes comes from interviews with Jimmy and Lee Denson, 1989; Johnny Black, 1990, 1991; Evelyn Black, 1993; also Ian Wallis interview with Paul Burlison, 1989.
In the summertime there were informal dances: Interview with Jimmy and Lee Denson. This is supported by interviews with various other Courts residents, including Johnny Black, 1990, and Evelyn Black, 1993.
“We would play under the trees”: Interview with Johnny Black, 1990.
When he missed a note: Interview with Jimmy and Lee Denson.
“She used to come out”: Michael Donahue, “Elvis: The Project Years,” Memphis Commercial Appeal, Mid-South Magazine, August 11, 1985.
“Elvis was a great kisser”: Bill E. Burk, Early Elvis: The Humes Years, pp. 110–111.
“He tried not to show it”: Robert Palmer, “Sam Phillips: The Sun King,” Memphis, December 1978.
He sings Eddy Arnold’s: The repertoire was specified in an interview with Buzzy Forbess. Buzzy also mentioned Bing and Gary Crosby’s catchy (and up-tempo) “Play a Simple Melody.”
(“Wild-looking guys”): 1972 interview.
(“It was just something”): Ibid.
she was very proud of the job: Interviews with Gladys’ physician, Dr. Charles Clarke, 1989, and Ronny Trout, 1991.
a 1941 Lincoln coupe: This has been described on some occasions as a 1942 model (and, more specifically, as a Lincoln Zephyr), but it is specified as a ’41 Chrysler in the Housing Authority report.
“My daddy was something wonderful”: Edwin Miller, “Elvis the Innocent,” Memories, May 1989, p. 13.
One time, Vernon recalled: Elvis Presley, prepared by the editors of TV Radio Mirror, 1956, p. 17.
“Elvis saw the street”: Elvis Presley Speaks!, p. 26.
the firemen, who welcomed any diversion: Ibid.
“One time we were hanging around”: Interview with Johnny Black, 1990.
“we don’t have any Negro conductors”: David Tucker, Lieutenant Lee of Beale Street, p. 146.
“He came down”: Interview with Guy Lansky, 1990.
“I suppose that was where I saw him”: Jerry Hopkins interview with Bob Neal (MVC/MSU).
“I mean, we didn’t know Elvis Presley”: Interview with Jake Hess, 1991.
Once a month Ellis was filled: A great deal of the background on the All-Night Singings, and quartet singing in general, comes from extensive interviews with Jake Hess and James Blackwood; early videos of the Blackwood Brothers and the Statesmen supplied by Mary Jarvis, James Blackwood, and Jake Hess; various writings by Charles Wolfe (including “Presley and the Gospel Tradition” in Elvis: Images and Fancies) and The Music Men by Bob Terrell.
“the big heavy rhythm beats”: C. Robert Jennings, “There’ll Always Be an Elvis,” Saturday Evening Post, September 11, 1965, p. 78.
“He went about as far as you could go”: Interview with Jake Hess.
“Oh, no, not again”: Interview with Johnny Black, 1990.
“I moved everything”: Interview with Lillian Fortenberry, 1988.
He sang quite a few: Elvis’ musical repertoire is supplied from interviews with Buzzy Forbess, Lee Denson, Johnny Black, and Ronald Smith, as well as various published interviews with Paul Burlison.
Some evenings Vernon and Gladys: “Elvis by His Father Vernon Presley” as told to Nancy Anderson, Good Housekeeping, January 1978, p. 157.
“He grabbed it out of my purse”: Billie Wardlaw quoted in Bill E. Burk, The Young Elvis, pp. 111–112.
Occasionally Buzzy and the other boys: Interview with Buzzy Forbess.
According to a teacher, Mildred Scrivener: Mildred Scrivener, “My Boy Elvis,” TV Radio Mirror, March 1957.
“It got so hard on him”: Elvis Presley, prepared by the editors of TV Radio Mirror, 1956, p. 10. Actually Gladys went back to work at St. Joseph’s in August, but the same principle applied.
“I really felt sorry for him”: Red West et al., Elvis: What Happened?, p. 17.
“He would wear dress pants”: Interview with Ronny Trout.
One time he got a home permanent: The “permanent” was described in various manifestations in interviews with Ronny Trout, Jimmy Denson, Barbara Pittman, and “Mary Ann,” a neighbor in the Courts, who is quoted in Jane and Michael Stern’s Elvis World, p. 151.
he stopped by St. Joseph’s: Interview with Ronny Trout.
Perhaps he attended the Midnight Rambles: Interviews with Ronny Trout, George Blancet, George Klein, et al.
“the same place,” he later recalled: 1972 interview.
“We just thought he was pretty”: Interview with Evelyn Black.
Rabbi Alfred Fruchter and his wife, Jeanette: Staten, The Real Elvis, p. 61.
On April 9, 1953: Interviews with George Blancet, George Klein, Buzzy Forbess, Ronny Trout, and Red West, as well as the program of the event.
“I wasn’t popular in school”: 1972 interview.
“While other students were dashing around”: Scrivener, “My Boy Elvis,” TV Radio Mirror, March 1957.
Toward the end of the school year he took: “Elvis’s Prom Date Remembers a Shy Guy in Blue Suede Shoes,” People, 1989; also The Young Elvis by Bill E. Burk and “Elvis: Wallflower at Own Prom,” Fort Lauderdale News and Sun Sentinel, May 23, 1989.
“we are reminded at this time”: Humes Herald, 1953, p. 33.
“MY HAPPINESS”
All quotes from Sam Phillips and Marion Keisker are from the author’s interviews, 1979–93 (Phillips) and 1981–89 (Keisker), unless otherwise noted.
On July 15, 1953: Clark Porteous, “Prison Singers May Find Fame with Record They Made in Memphis,” Memphis Press-Scimitar, July 15, 1953. Further information on the Prisonaires from interviews with Sam Phillips; “The Prisonaires,” Ebony, November 1953; and Colin Escott’s liner notes, and research for, Just Walkin’ in the Rain, the Prisonaires’ album on Bear Family, and his own history of Sun (written with Martin Hawkins), Good Rockin’ Tonight: Sun Records and the Birth of Rock ’n’ Roll.
Sun Records, and the Memphis Recording Service, were a two-person operation: Background on the Memphis Recording Service and Sun Records stems, primarily, from numerous interviews with Sam Phillips and Marion Keisker over the years and Escott and Hawkins’ Good Rockin’ Tonight.
renting for $75 or $80 a month: Interview with Sam Phillips, 1990. Vince Staten sets it at $150 a month in The Real Elvis: Good Old Boy, and various other figures have been suggested.
Marion Keisker would have been: Background on Marion Keisker from interviews and conversations, 1981–89; obituary by Colin Escott, Goldmine, February 9, 1990.
and where Jake Hess (later to join the Statesmen) got his start: Interviews with Jake Hess, 1991, 1994. Jake continued to cross paths with the Phillipses and in Memphis sang on WREC with the Daniel Brothers Quartet, which Jud managed. Hess was so impressed with the warmth and kindness of Sam’s future wife, Becky, who was working at WLAY when he first met her, that years later he named his daughter for her.
He was inspired equally: Interview with Marion Keisker, 1981.
Hoyt Wooten, who had started the station: Robert Johnson, “Wooten Sells T-V, Radio Stations,” Memphis Press-Scimitar, November 3, 1958.
he remained quiet and reserved:
This surprising self-description of a young Sam Phillips was borne out in interviews with Marion Keisker, Biff Collie, Jake Hess, and T. Tommy Cutrer, among others.
“some of [the] great Negro artists”: “Man Behind the Sun Sound,” Melody Maker, c. 1957, as cited by Mike Leadbitter in “Memphis,” Blues Unlimited Collectors Classics 13.
“As word got around”: Robert Johnson, “Suddenly Singing Elvis Presley Zooms into Recording Stardom,” Memphis Press-Scimitar, February 5, 1955.
the partnership with Jim Bulleit: Interviews with Sam Phillips and Marion Keisker; Escott and Hawkins, Good Rockin’ Tonight.
“to surprise my mother”: March 24, 1956, interview.
“I just wanted to hear”: Robert Johnson, Elvis Presley Speaks!, p. 8.
“we had a conversation”: Jerry Hopkins interview with Marion Keisker (MVC/MSU).
“sounded like somebody beating on a bucket lid”: Time, May 14, 1956, and passim.
“We might give you a call sometime”: C. Robert Jennings, “There’ll Always Be an Elvis,” Saturday Evening Post, September 11, 1965, p. 78.
He even had Miss Keisker: This is a combination of Marion’s story as related in Jerry Hopkins’ biography (here Sam comes in after the recording is done) and Robert Johnson’s account in TV Star Parade (September 1956), where it is Sam who takes the boy’s name.
It must be noted that this is one scenario, and one scenario only. Over the last twenty years there has sprung up a raging controversy. The nub of the controversy consists of a dispute between Sam Phillips and Marion Keisker over who actually recorded Elvis Presley that first time, which in essence boils down to who turned on the tape recorder when he walked in off the street to make a “personal” record for his mother. The first detailed published version that I am aware of, Bob Johnson’s 1956 Elvis Presley Speaks!, based on extensive reporting by Johnson since early 1955, was clearly Marion’s version. In it she had Sam Phillips coming in “before the record session was completed. It took about fifteen minutes.” Subsequent stories by Johnson (and other newspaper and magazine stories) fudged the issue with language that could have indicated the presence of both parties. Marion’s account remained the same, however, until her death, with minor variations, which occasionally offered explanations for Sam’s absence and, in her well-known interview with Jerry Hopkins, had her making a tape copy of the young singer partway into his performance so that she could play it for Sam afterward. As she said to me in 1981, disclaiming credit for anything other than thinking of Sam: “I knew nothing about r&b, I knew nothing about country, and I didn’t care whether I did. I was totally enamored of Sam. All I wanted was for Sam to do whatever would make him happy.” And it clearly hurt her, as she said, to be branded a liar.
I knew Marion for the last ten years of her life. In our friendship I knew her to be a truthful person, always, but Marion would have been the first to tell you that memory is a creative function, and many aspects of her story contradicted others: for example, if the waiting room was full of people and she got acquainted with Elvis while others were taking their turn, who was recording the others? These internal contradictions in no way disprove her story; they only indicate the difficulties of ascertaining “the truth.”
Sam didn’t weigh in with his version until 1979, when he broke what amounted to two decades of silence and spoke first to Robert Palmer, then to me and, subsequently, to many others. Sam’s version, essentially, claimed credit for the recording (he didn’t need to claim credit for the discovery, since that was not the issue here) and registered first disbelief, then indignation, that Marion’s story should indicate an ability on her part to operate the delicate disc-cutting machinery, let alone Sam’s permission to do so. Marion, who referred to herself as a “mechanical idiot,” described to me just how she operated the lathe when I first met her—before I ever spoke about it with Sam or was fully aware of the controversy, though not before Marion and Sam had discussed the matter thoroughly between themselves. Marion said, “Who do you think recorded Buck Turner [Sam’s first partner, who had a daily radio show that was frequently transcribed in the studio] when Sam wasn’t there? You know, everything didn’t just stop during his absence. It couldn’t.”
I’ve spoken to numerous people familiar with the Sun operation over the years. All agree, from what they know of Marion and the technical operation of the lathe, that not only could Marion have operated it, she probably did. But none could recall ever seeing her do so. I tried to contact her son, who she said was frequently in the studio with her, but was unable to get a response from him. I’ve spoken to a number of people—though not a great number—who made “personal” records in those years, and all of them recall Marion out front and Sam doing the recording.
None of which proves anything.
Toward the end of Marion’s life there was some talk of a compromise between the two versions, and I’ve often felt that Marion was offering an olive branch by bringing Sam more frequently into the studio at the conclusion of the session (upon his return from Miss Taylor’s restaurant). Sam has remained steadfast that he alone operated the lathe. Whatever version one would like to choose, I don’t think any proof is possible in the absence of a credible, impartial witness, and I honestly don’t think it makes any difference. I would like to think that this is simply a dispute on a specific point of fact between two honorable people who simply have remembered a scene, which could scarcely have had much significance to either one until long after the event, in different ways. The reason that I have chosen the version that I have presented is that it best fits Marion’s “crowded room” scenario, while allowing both Sam and Marion to fulfill the roles that were clearly theirs: Marion, as Elvis portrayed her, was the one who listened, the one who responded to his need, and he was always grateful to her for this. Sam, as Marion conceded in every word, gesture, and deed, and as Elvis himself consistently indicated over the years, was solely responsible for the music. Sam possessed the vision. That is the nub of both Sam’s and Marion’s version. Who flicked the switch simply should not represent an issue of earthshaking importance.
Miss Keisker was always very nice: The picture here of Elvis tentatively putting himself in the way of discovery is based on Marion’s impressionistic portrait, not a chronological sequence that recalled him coming into the studio on specific occasions. It makes sense to me in terms of the person that both she and Sam portrayed as well as the aspirations he possessed and the skeletal chronology of events.
“WITHOUT YOU”
All quotes from Dixie Locke are from the author’s interviews, unless otherwise noted.
the Assembly of God Church at 1084 McLemore: Background information on the First Assembly of God Church comes from James Blackwood; Dixie Locke; Vince Staten’s The Real Elvis: Good Old Boy; Bill E. Burk’s Early Elvis: The Humes Years; Ronald Smith; and Bill E. Burk.
One time there was a crisis at work: Interviews with Lillian Fortenberry, 1988, and Dixie Locke, 1990.
the colored church at East Trigg: Background information on the East Trigg Baptist Church and the remarkable Dr. William Herbert Brewster comes from “William Herbert Brewster, Sr.,” We’ll Understand It Better By and By, edited by Bernice Reagon; The Gospel Sound: Good News and Bad Times by Tony Heilbut; also Horace Boyer’s 1979 interview with Dr. Brewster; Bill E. Burk’s interview with the Reverend James Hamill in Early Elvis, p. 117; and my own interviews with Sam Phillips, James Blackwood, Jack Clement, George Klein, Lamar Fike, et al.
Charlie had put it on the jukebox: There are a number of different versions of this story. Johnny Black remembered clearly hearing the record in Charlie’s; Ronald Smith recalled just as clearly Elvis bringing him to see it on the jukebox at the Pantaze Drug Store, opposite Ellis Auditorium; and Elvis’ aunt Lillian Fortenberry placed it in a drugstore near Sun.
“They told me I couldn’t sing”: Elaine Dundy, Elvis and Gladys, pp. 175–176.
“Elvis, why don’t you give it up?”: Jimmy Hamill quoted by his fa
ther in Burk, Early Elvis, p. 118.
Pastor Hamill wouldn’t approve: Ibid.
Sometimes while Bob was doing the commercials: Interview with James Blackwood, 1988.
(“If you can’t drink it, freeze it”): Dewey’s pitch adapted from Randy Haspel’s version in “Tell ’Em Phillips Sencha,” Memphis, June 1978.
Toward the end of April, Elvis got a new job: Background information on Crown Electric and James and Gladys Tipler comes from Elston Leonard’s “Elvis Presley: The New Singing Rage,” Tiger, c. 1956; Elvis by Jerry Hopkins; Jerry Hopkins’ interviews with the Tiplers (MVC/MSU); the 1987 BBC television documentary Presley: “I Don’t Sing Like Nobody”; and “Elvis Presley Part 2: The Folks He Left Behind Him,” TV Guide, September 22–28, 1956.
Dorsey told him about one night: Interviews with Scotty Moore, 1990, and Bobbie Moore, 1992; Ian Wallis interview with Paul Burlison, 1989.
Dorsey and Paul invited Elvis: This is an imagined conversation, but it is based on interview material—with Ronald Smith, Paul Burlison, Jimmy Denson, and Barbara Pittman, as well as a 1963 New Musical Express interview with Johnny Burnette—that makes it clear that he played places like the Home and the Girls’ Club, the basement rec room of St. Mary’s across the street from the Courts, on an increasingly regular basis. In addition, both Dixie Locke and Ronald Smith felt certain that he did not, and would not, play “joints” at this time. He even made this distaste clear to Sam Phillips and Bob Neal when he was embarking upon his professional career.
his parents were getting older: Jerry Hopkins interview with Bob Neal (MVC/MSU), in addition to interview with Dixie Locke.
(a Lodge banquet at the Columbia Mutual Towers): Interview with Ronald Smith, 1993; Buzzy Forbess, too, spoke in a 1991 interview of Elvis playing guitar at a number of dances put on at the Columbia Mutual Towers building by the Junior Order of the Oddfellows Lodge, to which Buzzy belonged.
The featured performer, Eddie Bond: The experience with Eddie Bond was described by Dixie Locke and Ronald Smith in separate interviews, while Elvis’ recollection of the event in later years comes from an interview with George Klein. Eddie Bond’s take on the incident is described somewhat differently in “Eddie Bond: A Reluctant Rockabilly Rocker Remembers” by Charles Raiteri, Goldmine, August 1, 1986.
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