Copy link Copied Copy link Copied Subscribe to gift this article Gift 5 articles to anyone you choose each month when you subscribe. Already a subscriber? Login I remember three things about my visit to Graceland. The sweet, yeasty smell of stubble fields that seemed to hang over the whole of Memphis.
The surprisingly small scale of the mansion, which Elvis bought from a local printing family at the age of 22, so young he didn’t think twice about moving his parents in. And the garden at the end of the visit, with all those bodies in it. Black marble slabs: mum and dad (his mother died of alcoholism in his first burst of fame); his identical twin Jesse, who died at birth; his grandmother; and Presley himself, who’s been there for 47 years.
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