The morning of January 10, 1975, began as an unseasonably warm, humid, and gloomy winter’s day. At 7:30 a.m., a school bus loaded with energetic and loud third graders departed Otken Elementary in McComb. I rode near the back of the bus wearing a light windbreaker and quietly hummed Elvis Presley songs. My dad, a huge Elvis fan, had bought most of the King’s 45s as a teenager. He packed them away after marriage until I found them and endlessly played his Sun and RCA label records on my portable box turntable. In short order, I learned the lyrics and melodies to many of Elvis’s hits and fancied myself as the next generation rock and roll star. Standing in front of a small mirror, hairbrush used as a microphone, I sang and danced to “That’s All Right (Mama),” “Mystery Train,” and “Blue Suede Shoes.”
On the bumpy journey to school that day, I thought of Elvis who two days earlier had turned 40 years of age. He rejuvenated his career and had become a fixture in Las Vegas. As the skies darkened, our bus lumbered over the bridge into East McComb, and ominous clouds appeared on the horizon. We arrived at Kennedy School, and our driver grabbed the metallic lever which rotated to open the folding glass doors. By this time, the winds howled as my classmates hurried in the school building to our respective homerooms. My teacher, Ms. Finger, had a friendly, easy-going disposition and allowed her classroom the freedom to be creative and sometimes silly. I routinely serenaded her and the class to Elvis’s songs each morning before the intercom crackled to begin announcements, the national anthem, and prayer. On this day, the class requested the Elvis cover of a Fats Domino song, “Blueberry Hill.” The song had also been popularized by Ron Howard who played Richie Cunningham on Happy Days. But the giggles did not last long that morning as our entire school quickly marched into a nearby church for shelter while a massive tornado swept through McComb and killed eight people.
Two blocks wide by 38 blocks long, the storm decimated my city and my own house where my mother and younger brother miraculously escaped unscathed. From his home at Graceland in Memphis, the famous Mississippi native saw the destruction and felt moved to help. Elvis called Governor Waller and pledged to stage a benefit concert for the victims. Sure enough, in May of that year, a sold-out Mississippi Coliseum heard Elvis sing the very tunes I played and sang in my bedroom and school homeroom.
Elvis Presley began his life dirt poor in Tupelo, Mississippi. His meteoric rise and then superstardom made him one of the most famous American singers in the history of our country. Yet, he never forgot his roots or left his faith, preferring gospel songs over his rock and roll classics. From the rubble of over 100 homes destroyed, over 30 businesses flattened, and lives lost, my childhood hero rose to the occasion and delivered a rousing Mississippi performance in his white, stone-studded jump suit. Elvis once said, “More than anything else, I want the folks back home to think right of me.” Well, for the Hicks family who lost our home and belongings in McComb, we certainly thought right of Elvis Presley.
