Yup, it is award season. It begins with one of the many music awards, goes on to the People’s Choice and culminates with the Oscars. There’s a whole lot of music, movies and good television to be had during the often doldrums of winter.
Generally we do not see many, if any, of the nominated flicks by the time the awards are given. This year we’ve seen a couple, the latest bEsther Aug 20 1954eing Elvis. I won’t review it, but will say that there was a whole lot of great music, especially if you are a die-hard Elvis fan. The characters were believable, for the most part, and that is often a hard thing to pull off. Tom Hanks was fabulous as the scheming Col. Tom Parker. Enough said.
The Blevins Street girls could take Elvis or leave him. We did not see a point to the fervor of his fans, or of his detractors for that matter. What we did see first-hand was the creation of a fan. One of our neighbors became a dedicated Elvis loving, crazed, screaming, eventually sobbing, completely in love, teenage girl, right before our eyes. Right there on Blevins Street.
At 14, our much loved Esther, also known as Tess, was in-between; she could be kid enough to play dolls with us or color, yet old enough to be the sitter. She played her records for us and painted our nails, a conservative clear coat, gave our lips the faintest hint of pink, let us splash on some cologne and gave us hope of growing to the age of make-up.
Still, Esther was in the ninth grade, and wanted to do teenage things, not little girl things. She attended school functions with her friends, and football games, basketball games and especially loved the dances. She had to keep up with who was seen with who. After all, knowing the latest social news was critical. Tess was looking forward to a driver’s license.
Dick Clark brought his American Bandstand to living rooms across Marion late in the afternoon, after school. Teenagers all across town tuned in, before many an intolerant dad came home, to see the likes of Ricky Nelson, Neil Sedaka, Paul Anka and of course, the latest hit by Elvis the King.
About this time Esther got a new portable record player. She graduated from the kiddy kind that played one LP at a time, or kiddy ditties like Pop Goes the Weasel, to a portable job. It was capable of holding a whole stack of 45’s. Things like the Big Bopper’s Rock Around The Clock. Then along came Hound Dog and Jail House Rock, sung by that twitchy lipped, swivel hipped, sweet-eyed boy from Tupelo, Mississippi, and her world changed forever. The quiet house on Blevins Street would never be the same.
In a few short months Esther had traded tea parties and playing with dolls with the junior Blevins Street girls for a Philco, Elvis and an interest in boys. We thought she was crazy to give up dress-ups, climbing trees and bike riding for the likes of some goofy singer. Ed Sullivan would only show him from the waist up. Teen girls far and wide were crazed. Marion girls were crazed.
A good many adults were sure this was Satan in the flesh, so Elvis got his share of attention among the adults in our neighborhood. None had good things to say. Elvis conversations usually ended with ‘tsk, tsk’ and shaking heads. The much younger crowd wasn’t much impressed either. He was no Beaver Cleaver and we thought local television celebrity Kenny Roberts the Jumping Cowboy could sing better. And he could yodel. Nonetheless we watched the neighborhood goings on with interest. We really thought Esther was out of her mind. When I was 14, the Beatles came along.
The photo this week is of a couple of Blevins Street girls before Elvis and the Beatles.