The Elvis Time Machine

Elvis Hasn't Left This Building

I was standing on the porch at 200 East Gholson in Holly Springs, Mississippi and I had just shouted back to the car, “Looks like we picked the wrong day.”

There was a note on the door from another tourist group reading, “Sorry we missed you.”

That’s when I heard a rumbling from inside the house. I turned and there in the translucent window of the door looked for all the world like the ghost of Jacob Marley.

It wasn’t. It was Paul MacLeod, owner-operator-curator-hunter-gatherer-tour guide of Graceland Too, the number one tourist attraction in Holly Springs and probably the number one tourist attraction in America that isn’t in any of the travel guides.

And we hadn’t picked the wrong day. Paul was home, ready, willing – more than willing – and able to give us a tour of his Elvis-obsessed home.

Actually obsessed isn’t the right term. “Obsessed” is much too mild. Consumed? Absorbed? Possessed? All of them and throw in “haunted.”

Paul is proud of his Elvis obsession. He showed us his little scrapbook from fifth grade. Like a mental patient with rounded scissors Paul would spend the day scouring newspapers and magazines looking for the words “Elvis Presley.” Then he would cut them out and paste them in his album.

There are six million cuttings in the book, he proclaimed. I think he said six million. He threw so many numbers at us during our tour, 160,000 of this, six million of that, 35,000 records, 25,000 CDs, that I can’t be sure of any numbers. I don’t think a courtroom stenographer could have kept up with Paul, much less a lowly journalist.

Paul has fashioned the exterior of his house to look like Graceland. If you squint and ignore the fact that it is painted in a garish blue – for Blue Hawaii or Blue Christmas or one of Elvis’s other blue periods - I can’t remember.

He said he used 58 gallons of blue paint, corresponding to the 58 years since Elvis began his career. Or at least that’s what I thought he said. My son-in-law Ben thought he said 80 gallons, corresponding to Elvis’ age. He might have said both. He probably said both. Or neither.

The tour – which is available day or night, seven days a week, just knock – costs $5 per person and is lead by Paul His Ownself. He leads you through the five downstairs rooms, all piled floor to ceiling – and in a couple of the rooms including the floor and ceiling – with Elvis stuff, memorabilia, paraphernalia, junk, even unrelated junk, like the photo of the 102-year-old female impersonator, who may have once attended an Elvis movie.

Where to begin? Elvis candy bars – “those are worth $100,00.” Elvis records – “that blue one is worth a million dollars.” Elvis photos and Elvis jump suits and Elvis TV Guides. No, Elvis isn’t on the cover of each one. Although Paul has six million or 135,000 or 60 of the “TV Guide” with Elvis on the cover. No, each has a listing for an Elvis movie or special or maybe just an Elvis mention in a letter to the editor.

In the Elvis Back Room there’s a mounted deer head in a bucket with a red bulb dangling from its nose – something about Rudolph and a bucket of deer, like Colonel Sanders’ bucket of chicken.

There are posters and pictures and “see that picture of little Elvis with his hat on. You’ve seen that one before haven’t you?”

Yes, we all answered dutifully.

“That’s not Elvis! That’s my son! People say he’s a dead ringer for Elvis.”

Well, he is, if you squint.

Paul named his son Elvis Aaron Presley MacLeod and the boy must be proud. Or angry.

Each room has a theme although I couldn’t tell you what the theme is. The entryway seemed to be Elvis Entryway with lots of stuffed animals. There was Elvis Front Room with lots of records and Elvis Other Front Room and Elvis Back Room and Elvis Other Back Room. And I guess there was Elvis Back Yard even though the only things in the back yard were a bunch of empty Coke cans. Paul said he drinks 24 Cokes a day and no one doubted him.

And everywhere tubs and tubs, each said to contain hundreds of thousands of pieces of Elvis stuff, all mint condition.

The tour lasted less than an hour. It only seemed longer.

The group was so exhausted from Paul’s non-stop patter that it was some time after that we could collect our thoughts and discuss our adventure.

My step-daughter said she kept hearing the Twilight Zone theme over and over in her head. My wife said she kept hearing the Addams Family theme: “Their house is a museum/where people come to see ‘em/They really are a scream/The Addams Family.”

Son-in-law Ben said he kept hearing, “Tonight on 48 Hours Mystery, two couples visit a Mississippi museum…and are never seen again.”

I didn’t hear anything. My senses were overwhelmed by the smell. What was it? Dust? Mold? Must? Must have been mold or dust.

I finally figured it out. It was the smell of Dead Elvis.

I took lots of pictures because if I hadn’t you wouldn’t believe this story, would you? It’s NOT an April Fool’s Day joke.

Paul MacLeod had a heart attack on the front porch of Graceland Too in 2014 and died the next day. The contents of the house were later auctioned off.