Remembering Mississippi: A Place That Never Leaves You

I haven’t lived in Mississippi since 1987. That’s pushing forty years now—four decades since I packed up my life, left the Magnolia State, and planted myself in south-central Kentucky, mostly Bowling Green, where I’ve been ever since 1988. But every now and then, something stirs the dust of those old memories, and suddenly Mississippi doesn’t feel far away at all. It feels like yesterday. What brought it all flooding back this time was the news about Lane Kiffin. The Ole Miss football coach decided to bail on the Rebels and head to LSU for a whole lot more money. The move left the players hanging, the administration scrambling, and the fans and alumni feeling sucker-punched. And as a proud Ole Miss alum myself, it bothered me too. You don’t abandon the people who poured their hearts into you—not without leaving a bruise. I ended up talking with a former fraternity brother of mine, Dr. Donald Simmons, who now lives in Tupelo. He’s a chaplain down there, still connected to the heartbeat of Mississippi. We reminisced about the old days, and that simple conversation unlocked a whole room full of memories—college days, journalism classes, long nights at the Daily Mississippian, and the people who shaped my young life. Mississippi may be poor in dollars, but it’s rich in soul. Oxford, Ole Miss, and the Spirit That Lingers Oxford was where I became who I was going to be. I studied journalism at Ole Miss, worked at the campus newspaper, and walked the same streets that so many storytellers had walked before me. It was also where I met my wife, Patty—a meeting that would define the rest of my life. Funny how a single place can carry so many beginnings. There’s something about being a freshman at Ole Miss—the buzz on the Square, the Grove on a Saturday, the faces you meet who somehow stay with you long after you leave. The Ole Miss spirit doesn’t fade. You carry it with you. It becomes a part of how you talk, how you laugh, how you remember. Willie Morris and the Writers’ Bench One of the brightest memories from those years was Willie Morris, the late writer-in-residence at the university. Most folks know him for My Dog Skip, but to us journalism and English students, he was something more—our literary uncle, our storyteller-in-chief. Willie was a Southern writer who had lived big in New York City—editor of Harper’s Magazine, Rhodes Scholar, a man who knew both the Delta and Manhattan. And somehow he made Oxford his home. I was one of his groupies. A lot of us were. We’d sit with him at the Hoka, sipping coffee that may or may not have been strengthened with a little bourbon. We’d follow him over to The Gin, drinking White Russians while he talked about life, writing, and Mississippi. Sometimes we’d wind up in his house on Faculty Row—No. 16, if memory hasn’t tricked me—where he’d read to us or listen to whatever half-finished stories we were working on. Those nights had a magic of their own. Dr. Simmons was the one who first introduced me to Willie. I still have several of Willie’s books, all autographed, plus some letters we exchanged through the years. He was generous that way—generous with his time, his words, and his whiskey.

Family Roots in Mississippi Mississippi is also where our son Tony was born, in Pontotoc. Hard to believe he’s 38 now and living his own life up in New Jersey. Funny how something as simple as thinking about Oxford can make the years feel like a stack of old photographs sitting in your lap. And speaking of people from those days, I’m looking forward to reading The Dean by Sparky Reardon, one of our former deans at Ole Miss. Sparky is retired now, but he was a legend when I was there. My stepdaughter, Misty Hale from Taylor, asked what I wanted for Christmas, and I told her plain and simple—an autographed copy of Sparky’s book. That’ll bring back even more memories, I’m sure. Time Moves On, But Mississippi Holds Tight I may have built my life in Kentucky, raised kids, worked different jobs, and grown older, but Mississippi still lives quietly in me. Those eleven years—from 1976 to 1987—were long enough to shape a lifetime. They were good years. Formative years. Years full of friendship, learning, heartbreak, joy, and the unmistakable Southern charm that only Mississippi can produce. Lane Kiffin leaving might sting for a while. Folks in Mississippi have a way of taking loyalty seriously. But coaches come and go. Players come and go. What stays is the spirit—the memories, the people you met, the stories you lived, and the feeling you carry long after you leave Oxford. And even after nearly forty years away, Mississippi still knows my name.

"The Spirit Of Elvis" Reprinted From The Former Newsletter "The Southcentral Kentuckian," Collector's Story Edition # 1, 2005.

 (Note:The following story posted below is a reprint of a story that I wrote for my former short-lived newsletter called "The Southcentral Kentuckian," Collector's Story Edition #1, Oct.-Dec. 2005.  After seeing the 2022 Elvis movie at our local theater in Bowling Green, Ky., several weeks ago, I immediately thought of this story that I wrote about Elvis almost 17 years ago.  I even mailed a copy of it to Graceland Enterprises in Memphis, Tenn., which oversees the Elvis Presley estate and mansion where Pricilla Presley is the CEO. Graceland is now one of the top tourist attractions in the country.  And also the second most visited house in the USA besides The White House in Washington, D.C.  Btw, I thought the new movie was great and I highly recommend it everyone to see it if you get a chance especially if you're an Elvis fan like me. Also, I apologize for any mistakes you might find while reading this story. It is long and it was a lenghty process while typing it into the blog format.)

The Spirit of Elvis

By Galen A. Smith Sr.

Memphis, Tenn. _ Elvis Lives! Yes, that's right, he's alive and well at his home at Graceland on Elvis Presley Blvd., in Memphis.

Poster from the new Elvis movie

As a matter of fact, I just saw him on Aug. 31 at his house. Man, this guy's face, image, voice and music is over this beautiful mansion which was built in 1939. Elvis bought this southern style, stone house in 1957 and managed to live there until 1977 before his death due to heart failure and prescription drug addiction. Too bad he was only able to enjoy Graceland for 20 years before he left this world and all of his millions of fans. To this day, I am still amazed that "The King of Rock & Roll" is still popular as ever. Many people have said that Elvis didn't really, really get famous until after his death. To a certain degree I think this is true. However, I think he happened to be "at the right time at the right place," to claim his place on the popular throne in American history and culture. His name, music, songs and images are finely woven into the fabric of the America and the American South not to mention his claim to fame on the world-wide stage of admiring fans. From Mississippi to Germany and from Los Angeles to Moscow, his fan base still ranges in the millions and millions still to this day.

My Knowledge Of Elvis

I was born in Memphis in 1962 and lived in that city until I was 14 years-old before I moved further on down South in 1976. I had just moved to DeSoto County, Miss., the fall before the Summer of 1977 when Elvis died at his home. I remember the day of his death on Aug. 17, 1977. Donald Dillingham, a friend of mine from Eudora, Miss., where I lived on a private fishing lake in the rolling hills of North Mississippi on the bluff of the Delta near Eudora, and I had been to the drive-in theatre in South Memphis on U.S. 61 Highway the night before. My brother, Gary, had driven us up to the drive-in but I don't remember the movie we watched. Wait a minute...I think it was "Warriors" about street gangs fighting in New York City. That's right! And I remember too, that Classic Rock Star Joe Walsh's "In The City," was the theme song for the movie. Anyway, Donald and I, after drinking a couple of bottles of "Boone's Farm Apple Wine," (Lol) decided that we were going to walk home after the movie because Gary did not want to take us to Southhaven, Miss., to see these particular fine pretty ladies. Of course, we were only about 30 miles or so from our homes in Eudora. But little did we know that walking the streets of South Memphis at midnight would be a frightening event. Finally, we arrived in Southhaven but the girls were asleep and we decided not to disturb them. It was getting really late so we decided to go to a nearby gravel pit to sleep. (Lol) When morning finally arrived, we hitchhiked to Hernando to spend the afternoon with some friends. We talked one of our friends from Eudora on the phone to come to Hernando to come pick us up. I guess it was about 3 p.m. in the afternoon and I heard on the radio of this friend's station wagon that Elvis had just died at Baptist Hospital in Memphis. I said, "Hey, did you all hear that? Elvis died!" Then everyone in the vehicle said, "No way, that can't be true!" And I said, "Yes, it is, I just heard it, for real!" Needless to say, The King of Rock & Roll" was really dead.

The "Southcentral Kentuckian, 2005"

My first recollection of Elvis was the time I was invited to see "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang," the Walt Disney movie starring Dick Vandyke that was showing at the Southland Mall not far from Elvis' house. I guess it was about 1968 and I was about six years-old.  When we drove by Elvis' house, the mother driving the car, "There's Elvis Presley's house and he's in Hollywood filming movies right now." I wasn't quite sure who Elvis Presley was at the time but I did have an idea that he was kind of famous in my young mind at the time. The main thing I remember about this particular moment was the gate to his house. I remember seeing musical notes and an image of man singing into a microphone. Then as the years rolled on by into the 70's, I would see Elvis on television, in movies, concert footage and the memorable "Live From Hawaii Via Satellite Concert." I think I was memorized watching all the women going crazy over him while they were receiving a kiss and scarf to remember him by. 

Then in the Summer of 1974, I met a new friend at an old church in Memphis where AA and Al-Alon meetings were being held. My mother would attend these meetings on Saturday and Wednesday nights and us kids of the parents who were there would have to hang around in the basement or outside to pass the time. But this one particular boy who was about my age, 12 years-old, named "Tommy" had become friends with Elvis and had met him at the Karate studio on Union Avenue. Tommy was taking Karate lesson and Elvis and his entourage would come there and do karate demonstrations and etc. Elvis befriended Tommy and even took to his house for dinner and gave him an autograph record on the album that was recorded in "The Jungle Room." that same year.  Yes, I was impressed but it was hard for me to believe it too. But I guess it was true.

In the Spring of 1977, I developed a bad sore throat and it would not get any better even though my dad had taken me to the local doctor in Hernando. Finally, he decided to take me to his doctor, and Elvis' doctor also, "Dr. Geroge Nichopoulous who lived and had a practice in Memphis. My dad said that "Dr. Nick" (affectionately known by Elvis and everyone else in Memphis) was famous for prescribing drugs without having to do surgery. Boy, how true it was! Yes, Dr. Nick was famous or infamous, I should say for prescribing drugs alright.  But little did we know at the time that Elvis was in a predicament with his drug addiction. However, I enjoyed meeting Dr. Nick and I remember he was wearing lots of gold and diamonds that Elvis had probably given him including the gold chain with the "TCB" pendant.

Before and after Elvis' death, I had hung out around Horn Lake, Miss., quite a bit because I had a friend on the private fishing lake who went to school in Horn Lake. There was this place called the "Gun Club" and apparently Elvis had built for him and Pricilla and his entourage to go ride horses and act crazy while having tons of fun. Supposedly, head several mobie homes moved down there so everyone had their own mobile homes at the gun club property near Walls, Miss., on Goodman Road. After Elvis' death, a group of investors quickly rented the property and started busing people from Graceland to the Gun Club to see the little house on the farm where Pricilla and Elvis spent their honeymoon. I remember they had an old school bus taking tourists back and fourth from Graceland and the bus did not have any air conditioning. You know those tourists had to be really hot!

My Feelings About Elvis

Me and my former neighbor, Lee Swetmon 

After seeing and being inside Elvis' house for the first time after living in Memphis and American South for 43 years, I realized that I have had a spiritual connection to Elvis just like he connects with all of his other fans and admirers. I had felt this same feeling once before when I was allowed to walk up to Elvis's grave in March of 1981 not long before it was turned into a museum and tourist attraction. Although, across the street which used to be a little strip shopping center, is now a part of the whole Graceland experience with Elvis gift shops, Elvis Hotel, Elvis Restaurant and etc. Also, his personal jet, the "Lisa Maria" is there along with some of his cars. I had my picture made in front of make believe gates and house in the distance. Then we were shuttled into a small bus and taken across the street while wearing head phone listening to Elvis' voice and some of his songs. I really felt enchanted and amazed. I couldn't believe it! Then we arrived on the front steps of his house and we were directed inside. The first thing I noticed was the blast of air that blew into my face and it had a sweet smell to it. I could feel "The Spirit of Elvis." Yes, he was here and alive. His spirit was in this house. Elvis had a very strong energy force that can still be felt today. As I walked through the living room and dining room and into into the kitchen. I was pretty much taking everything in like a sponge while trying to comprehend and absorb it all. Then we went downstairs into the "Television Room" that practically all yellow and then into the multi-color "Pool Table Room," then back upstairs to the "Jungle Room" and then out back to the "The Office," then "Gold Record Hall of Fame" and then out back to "Racquetball Building" that shows his crowing glory of world-wide and international fame at the pinnacle of his incredible singing career. However, my favorite spot was the "Meditation Garden" by the swimming pool. I was silent and inspired. The Spirit of Elvis had touched my life again. I felt as if I knew him and he knew me.

                                               

Let's Keep Building Ole Miss Up Rather Than Tearing Her Down By Taking Away Her Traditions And Heritage

The Lyceum

   I knew Willie Morris, Barry Hannah, Dr. Porter Fortune, Ron Shapiro and The Hoka. I knew the Rebel flag, the Rebels, Frat Row, the Dixie Song and Kentucky bourbon in my Coke on a Saturday football fall afternoon. I knew the Spirit of Ole Miss as I graced her hallways in The Lyceum on an early Spring morning or as I sat in a classroom at Bondurant Hall on a long, hot summer day. I knew the beat of her heart when I walked the Grove on a beautiful fall afternoon.

    And I can still hear her calling my name as I am one of thousands of students who knew and loved her as she was. Thirty three years later, it’s not a matter of how much money I have given her through the years. But it’s a matter of how much she has given me. She prepared me for the world, my career and how to be a family man. She made me into a productive and responsible citizen in my community.

My late mother and I in 1986 at Ole Miss

   
She has given me so much more than I could have ever given her. So the question is, “Would we recognize her today? No, I don’t think so. Has her spirit, heart and soul been destroyed? Yes, I think so. The liberals and socialists have crawled all over her like poisonous and diseased insects. So let’s keep building her up rather than tearing her down. Let’s keep her traditions and heritage alive so she will continue to have a positive impact on all of her student’s lives for future generations as she done for mine today. May God Bless Ole Miss and Hotty Toddy! (Pic below: My late mother and I in 1986).

About The New Willie Morris Biography: "Willie: The Life of Willie Morris By Teresa Nicholas"

"I received from Amazon, the new biography of Willie Morris, the late Mississippi author and our former writer-in-residence at Ole Miss while I was in college there from 82-87. I am looking forward to reading it and I'll probably write a review for my blog regarding the book. I realize after being away from Ole Miss (even though I have returned many times for visits) and Oxford, Miss., for almost 30 years now that I was just simply a fan like a lot of admirers were back then. And sometimes fans go out of their way to do unusual things to try to obtain the admiration of their favorite celebrity, author, sports figure or musicians. Some are not so gracious but Willie was gracious and personable. He remembered your name and treated you like a friend."-Galen A. Smith Sr.

SEC Football Is Like A Religion In The Deep South

"SEC Football is like a religion in the Deep South on Saturdays in the fall. I remember when I was Sigma Pi at Ole Miss in the early 80's, I dressed up in my blue blazer, blue button down shirt, plaid tie, Duck Head khaki pants with a flask of whiskey in my back pocket and penny loafer shoes. Now that I'm a lot older, married, own a home, have a grown son and work a full-time job while living in Kentucky all these years, looking back, it all appears
to be a little cultish in some particular aspects of the traditional rituals that revolve around the actual game itself. Indeed the tribes will and do gather on game day. However, everybody else still wants to be like Ole Miss."-Galen A. Smith Sr.

I Remember North Mississippi's Wall Doxey State Park Quite Fondly

     I remember growing up in Memphis, Tenn., in the 1960's and 1970's and how my father used to take my brothers and me camping at Wall Doxey State Park just outside of Holly Springs, Miss., on Highway 7 heading towards Oxford, Miss.  Usually, it would be a short weekend trip and he would pull our camping trailer to the park and we would always have the best time that I remember.  We would fish, swim and even rent the paddle boats they used to offer. I have very fond memories of my weekend there as a kid.

   The park is named after Wall Doxey, a former U.S. Representative and U.S. Senator from Mississippi. With camping areas, rental cabins, walking trails, a large playground, and camp pavilions, the area offers a welcome opportunity to the weekend camper. A narrow levee surrounds a third of the spring-fed lake which, in its shallows, has cypresses and dense vegetation.  I have been meaning to stop by there for years on my home from Oxford after visiting some friends during our ever so often trips down South from Bowling Green.  Finally, this past weekend we did we did stop and I'm glad I did.  I probably haven't been there since my days as a college student at Ole Miss in the early 80's.  I remember we even had one of our Spring fraternity formals there.  Or at least, I remember some of it. I also remember that I once drove out to Wall Doxey to get away from campus on a beautiful Spring day. I was inspired to write a poem about the park while sitting at a picnic table. I still have a copy of it.

  The park is beautiful as ever.  However, I was a little sad to see that they do not allow swimming anymore and the snack bar/concessions areas are closed.  The man at the guard shack claims that they quit allowing swimming because of insurance purposes.  I asked him if some people had drown recently or something like that.  But he just said "No, it because of insurance purposes."   It was nice to pay Wall Doxey a visit again.  But again, I was left with a little uneasy, haunting feeling about the place that perhaps some people have drowned in the lake recently is the reason that quit allowing swimming.  I suppose it's just my gut, intuition feeling.  I can't help it. Maybe I'm wrong.