Through the Legendary Americans course, we have learned that many legendary figures such as Sacagawea and Bonnie and Clyde are as much shaped by their public persona as by their actions. This is extremely relevant to Elvis, who gives fans the choice of extremes to hold up as their interpretation of him. The readings give conflicting portrayals of which version is most often chosen–either the “wholesome, patriotic, and pious” idol or the deeply flawed, pain-wracked addict; early or late versions of Elvis.
According to Doss, the pious and idealized version of Elvis survives because fans wish to see in him “who they want to be, who they most admire, who they mourn for; Elvis is the image of an ideal American.” He suggests that, due to the intensely personal, kinship-like bond that fans share with Elvis, they want to see him at his best. Supporters “shape their fandom around his broader familial image,” and so wish to see him be as wholesome and brotherly as possible. They fixate on the love that he, as a “gentleman,” showed to his parents, and on his charity that transgressed racial lines. This persona of pure goodness is advantageous from the Elvis’s side, too (as implied by his rumored slur towards African Americans that cited one of their two main purposes as consumers of his records (Bertrand)), since an undivisively good figure would appeal to more people, resulting in more record sales. By tying him to patriotism through his military career, Elvis’s proponents also tap into nationalism as a fuel for his marketable image. It adds another layer of heroism to him, and his meritocratic rise through the ranks is yet another tie between himself and the working class fans who were hungry for a rags-to-riches idol. (Doss)
While the above arguments depict fans as following an idealized Elvis because he is who they wish to be, Rosenbaum shows many fans as worshipping late Elvis because he is the figure they acknowledge themselves to be. He traces their adoration through a shared feeling of pain, as evidenced by the rousing support for “Hurt” during Death Week and the emotional healing sought there. The pain Elvis felt is “the kind of pain that is the true source of the growing reach of the Elvis faith. As appealing as the image of a perfect hero to look up to is, flaws can often be just as appealing, as they allow the common person to see themselves elsewhere, and thus be comforted by the shared experience.
I do not think that any of these explanations for Elvis’s stardom is necessarily the most persuasive. Instead, I think the reasons for devotion are entirely personalized based on what each person is searching for. This is seen in the examples given by Rosenbaum. Those who identify with late Elvis, such as the alcoholic woman at death week, follow Elvis because he shared their pain, and feel a human connection with their common past. Alternatively, the reasons for supporting a more pious version of Elvis can be found in the personal experience of individuals. For example, Chadwick is “a native Mississippi good-ol’-boy,” and thus probably from a background that condemns open sexuality. As a result, he does not see the sexual overtones in hishero, and explains it away as a reference to pentecostal pastors and gospel style. Similarly, the religious Revered Finster ties his ideal of Elvis to God, insisting that any sexual implications in Elvis’s movements was, in fact, God-mandated in order to increase American reproduction rates. Both men’s views are shaped by their perspective as liberal scholars, who seek “a redemptive vision of their native region, eager to find a source of health in a culture widely stereotyped as ‘redneck’” (Rosenbaum). The diversity of opinion indicates that, like most cultural icons, Elvis has become a personal interpretation more so than a real person.