COVINGTON, Ky.
- Among all the holiday gift-givers out there were surely a few who scoured the flea markets, the garage sales, the antique stores in search of that perfect item: a velvet painting of Elvis.
This velvet Elvis, of course, had to be different from the other 12 or so already owned by Aunt Dorothy or Uncle Fred.
And never mind that their homes were already crammed with every other Elvis Presley doodad known to man: the Elvis CDs and movies, the videotaped tour of Graceland, the hermetically sealed piece of Elvis's carpet, the Elvis clocks, dolls, posters, postcards, plates, and collectors-item TV Guide covers.
Some people just can't get enough of The King.
Whatever happened, I wonder, to the days when velvet Elvises were considered tacky? I swear I remember this period, even if it only lasted for about three weeks. We teen-agers would congregate in a friend's basement and roll our eyes at the goofy Elvis somebody's dad had hung on the wall.
Now, of course, Elvis has long since ascended from the basement. Savvy folks don't snicker anymore. Members of a Northern Kentucky Elvis fan club, in fact, don't even like talking about their Elvis collections; they're afraid somebody will steal them.
''It's too dangerous,'' says a Florence member who prefers to remain anonymous. ''It's worth a lot of money, some of the stuff, anymore.''
Elvis is everywhere
To get the real scoop on this phenomenon, I consulted Covington police Sgt. Spike Jones, who has become an unofficial expert on Elvis shrines.
Seems Mr. Jones began noticing them about eight years ago, while responding to calls for police assistance. Some apartments would be stuffed with Elvis paraphernalia; others simply had framed photographs of The King hanging among paintings of Christ or the Last Supper - sort of the way old-time Democrats might display faded portraits of John F. Kennedy.
Mr. Jones' affection for Elvis-shrine sightings got to be well known. Once he and some others even documented the phenomenon by covering a city map with push pins - one for every velvet-Elvis-owning household.
Mr. Jones, let's be clear, isn't making fun. In fact, people love to give him Elvis stuff now, so he's become something of a connoisseur. Besides the requisite velvet Elvis, he's got Elvis throw pillows, refrigerator magnets, posters, clocks and even an Elvis lamp. This year, his father-in-law gave him an Elvis mug for Christmas, and Mr. Jones would love to get his hands on some Elvis Pez dispensers, known as ''Elvis Pezleys.''
Still, he's retained a keen appreciation of the absurd. Like those guys who go sky-diving in Elvis wigs - what's that about?
''The Flying Elvises, Utah chapter,'' Mr. Jones says. ''Who would put those two things together?''
Then there's the thousands who make the annual pilgrimage to Graceland for the anniversary of Elvis' death in 1977. It's gotten so that college professors are even talking about the parallels between Elvis worship and the start of new religions.
Sharing wall space
I'm happy to report our fans aren't exactly ready to begin wearing tiny Elvis guitars around their necks.
Nahla Hammond, 59, has decorated her Covington apartment with equal parts family photographs, Native American art, Elvis knick-knacks and portraits of Jesus.
One wall features two Elvis postcards; a poster of Elvis, James Dean, Marilyn Monroe and Marlon Brando; the Elvis clock with moving legs; an Elvis doll in white bellbottoms with gold trim; and two Elvis posters. She also has most of Elvis's music and all four of those collectors-item TV Guides with Elvis on the cover.
''He had charisma, and, I think, he was a good Southern boy, you know - the kid next door,'' Ms. Hammond says. ''We know he loved and respected his mother so much.''
Of course, some have suggested perhaps he loved his mother too much. Ms. Hammond dismisses this as nasty gossip; she's especially critical of a book by Elvis' stepmother.
''She's just trying to make money, slander people's names,'' Ms. Hammond says. ''Same thing as that LaToya Jackson. I can't stand that girl anymore.''
Ms. Hammond keeps up on the Elvis news. She loves his music. But worship the guy? Please.
''To me, Elvis was King of Rock 'n Roll - that was the name that was given to him - but Jesus Christ is my king,'' she says.
Besides, she's had to do some Elvis downsizing lately, because her new apartment is much smaller than her last place.
Also cutting back are Doris Coss and her daughter, Karen, of Florence. When they recently moved, they trimmed their vast collection down to a single Elvis clock, the videotaped tour of Graceland and a laundry basket full of records.
And the rest of the stuff? The younger Coss decided she'd had enough.
''She threw it in the dumpster because she didn't think we should take it all with us,'' Doris Coss says.
Hmm. So much for Elvis worship - in that family, at least.
Somehow, I suspect a few folks out there would really like to get an address on that dumpster.
Karen Samples is The Enquirer's Kentucky columnist. Her column appears on Sundays and Thursdays in The Kentucky Enquirer. She can be reached at 578-5584 or email
her at ksamples@enquirer.com
SAMPLES ARCHIVE