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Death rarely strikes with dignity, but Elvis Presley's worldly exit on August 16, 1977 took the cake. You know what happened, and you know the one-line joke that popped up immediately: The King died on the throne. Elvis's inglorious demise happened a few weeks after "Elvis: What Happened?" came out. That mass-market paperback was a searing tell-all by three former members of Elvis's inner circle – as shaped by Aussie tabloid muckraker Steve Dunleavy – and it wrenchingly detailed the King's decline and fall. It told us some of what we suspected – the pills, the food binges, the gunplay, the petty abuse of power, the crushing isolation, the palpable paranoia. The exposé showed how extreme fame put the pampered Elvis in a cocoon that led to the grave. It made me think of John Lennon's comment years earlier that though the Beatles had achieved massive fame, he never, ever wanted to become "Elvis Beatle."  In death, Elvis is bigger than life with more than a billion records sold. There was irony in that Elvis, at 42, was reportedly trying to get himself in better playing shape. Some say he responded to the book, where the question "What happened?" seemed directed as much at the singer as readers. Elvis had played concerts during stretches of 1976 and 1977. But he'd also had to cancel some shows because of poor health. He'd been off the road, in Memphis, since the end of June. There was a feeling that, having recently released the "Moody Blue" album, this was Elvis's latest comeback bid. The tour was slated to kick off August 17 and 18 in Portland, Maine – near enough where I lived – and I had been considering going. I was working as music director at the University of Maine student radio station, WMEB-FM. I was pretty sure my RCA promo guy could have scored me a pair of tickets. The problem was this: I didn't really want to go. Although I revered what Elvis had done as a youth – all through rediscovery and research, mind you, I was a ‘70s teen – I was dismayed by what he'd become. I'd been anti-Elvis (or indifferent-Elvis) for some time. I didn't care much for his country and gospel music. His rock ‘n' roll didn't rock. He seemed out of place, out of time. And what Sonny West, Red West and Dave Hebler told Dunleavy about Elvis off stage behind the curtain, well, that was the nail in the coffin. Or so I thought. I suppose there was a trace of sangfroid, but really, I felt more sadness and anger. By and large, Elvis had been knocked out of the box when rock ‘n' roll evolved during the ‘60s and ‘70s, both as a musical and cultural phenomenon. Remember when President Richard Nixon appointed him "drug czar?" Good lord. It was Elvis's idea. He wrote Nixon a six-page letter, requesting a meeting with Nixon and wanted to be named a ‘Federal Agent-at-Large" in the Bureau of Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs. There's really no need to comment about that Gigantic Irony, except to note Elvis was not a consumer of "street" drugs; he had Dr. George Nichopoulos (Dr. Nick) to keep him medicated, legally, if not ethically.  His once-sculpted body bloated by the mid '70s, Elvis no longer cared about fitness, and the attitude mirrored in the music. Then there was his look. His face was puffy. His once-sculpted body was bloated – he no longer cared about fitness – and that seemed to mirror his attitude toward the music. He wouldn't make demands on himself or anyone else. He'd eat fried peanut butter-and-banana sandwiches, coast on history, wipe his brow with his scarves, toss ‘em to the ladies, collect his cash and leave the building. Jerry Lee Lewis, the Killer, told me one of the most chilling (and, yes, comic, in a black way) Elvis stories. In a drunken and/or drugged up stupor, Lewis drove up to Graceland gates when Elvis – whom he still considered very much a rival in 1976 – was home. Elvis's security people stopped the belligerent pianist and turned him way. They had found a handgun in the glove box. Lewis was arrested. Years later, I asked Lewis about his intentions. "What the hell do you think I was gonna do?" replied Jerry Lee. "I was gonna kill him." (That would have changed history a bit, no?)
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