This week remember the 40th anniversary of the death of Elvis Presley.  For many people it was like the day Buddy Holly died. It was the day the music died again. Here was singer and movie star who was just 42 years old, and there was the drug stories and his ballooned physical condition. We thought it would all pass and work out.

I don't know what you were doing, but I was a few weeks away from starting my sophomore year of high school. And I was standing on a ladder, in the alley at my parents' house in north Minneapolis, painting the garage. I was listening to a music station, one that would occasionally play some Elvis songs, and all of a sudden they broke in with the bulletin that he had died and then they played a bunch of his songs, and it was the top news story of the rest of the day. Nothing else seemed to matter. The King, Elvis, was gone.

There were those news agencies, that of course tried to make a big deal out of his reputation, just as they did when Michael Jackson and Prince died.

Most of America I think was like me. Just was shocked he was gone and wanted to listen to the music. Nothing else mattered. Sure we wanted to know how and why he died. Remember his mother died when she was 42.

There was all that speculation for a while that Elvis was an alien and his death was a cover up. They even made fun of it in 'en in Black, saying Elvis is not dead, he just went home.

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