Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: SUNDAY, March 1, 1992                   TAG: 9203030355
SECTION: HORIZON                    PAGE: E-5   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: CHRIS GLADDEN
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Short

HE HAD A MYSTERIOUS, MAGICAL EFFECT ON FANS

The biggest story in town was the Elvis Presley concert that night at the Roanoke Civic Center. Elvis at 41 was already on a physical decline brought about by his lifestyle but his fans hardly cared. The civic center sold out in 19 hours.

Nothing had quite prepared me for the huge outpouring of emotion in the civic center that night. Women in their 50s acted like teen-age girls every time Elvis twitched. They shrieked and screamed and swooned. They approached the stage bearing presents. They threw teddy bears and roses and lingerie on stage. One woman presented Elvis with a cake shaped like a guitar. Elvis, solidly in his Vegas period, was dressed like a sun god. He looked tired and ill.

But he knew how to work his audience. A lackey handed him scarves to wipe the sweat from his forehead and he threw the coveted garments to his clamoring fans. By the end of the evening, the mood in the civic center had escalated to what could only be described as religious hysteria.

In August a year later I stood in the newsroom and watched the hard-nosed consumer reporter weep at his typewriter as he hammered out a reminiscence of Elvis to run with the news story that The King was dead.

I was again astonished at the magical capacity Elvis had to affect people so deeply.

Elvis's death came a week before he was scheduled to appear again at the Roanoke Civic Center. Fans held onto the costly tickets. They were more than mementoes. They had become holy relics, splinters from the true cross.