James Froberg:  

AUGUST 17, 1977: THE DAY THE MUSIC DIED AGAIN! August 17, 2020 was the 43rd anniversary of the death of Elvis Presley. Those of us older than 48 probably remember where we were and what we were doing on the day that Elvis died. I heard the news when I was walking down a street in Paris France during a five-week trip I took after finishing the Illinois Bar Exam and waiting for the results. Spoiler alert: I passed. I was walking down that Parisian street with two Irish fellows I met earlier on a train back to Paris from a day trip I made to either St. Malo or the Palace at Versailles or maybe both. I was hanging out with them because I learned after I met randomly met them that they were going to take the same train from Paris to the French coast and then catch the same Irish Ferry boat to get to Rosslare, Ireland. When we were walking along the Paris street I mentioned to the two that I took four years of French at Holy Cross High School but that old knowledge was useless for me to use it in France to try to use speak to anyone. Every French person I met and said "Bonjour" to just told me to speak English. I told the two Irish guys that I should have taken at least one French class a year in college at Loyola U in Chicago to perhaps make me more intelligible. I did mention to the two Irish fellows that I seemed to be able to read and understand more French than I could hear or speak. As we were passing a newspaper stand I wanted to show them how well I could read French so I read the headline out loud to them: "ELVIS EST MORTE!" And as I translated that to them: "ELVIS IS DEAD!" all three of us then simultaneously screamed out loud: "ELVIS IS DEAD!!" We spent the greater part of our walk around Paris talking about Elvis and his songs. And then for the rest of the trip from Paris to LeHavre and then on-board from LeHavre to Rosslare, all we heard were Elvis songs playing on the streets, on the train, on the Irish Ferry Boat. Jailhouse Rock ... Blue Suede Shoes ... Return To Sender ... Heartbreak Hotel ... In The Ghetto. Since I did not have a berth on board the ferry boat, I had to spend the night trying to sleep with my head on a table in the Ferry Boat Bar listening to more Elvis songs while other travelers with weaker stomachs kept running to the railing or the loo to toss their shortbread cookies. Don't Be Cruel ... It's Now Or Never ... All Shook Up ... Blue Suede Shoes. All night and for half of the next day the ferry churned its way across the choppy English Channel and then chugged around England and into the Irish Sea until we reached Ireland and docked in Rosslare. The Wonder Of You ... Steamroller Blues ...Blue Suede Shoes ... Viva Las Vegas! When I left the two Irishmen in Rosslare they headed northward on home to Dublin and I headed northwest onward to Limerick and then on further to visit the little sister of my Grandmother McMahon in Adare Ireland an award-winning Tidy Town. The pubs and most radio I heard during my few days in Adare were almost all Elvis all the time. Puppet On A String ... Hard Headed Woman ...Suspicious Minds.....Wear My Ring Around Your Neck ... Burning Love ... Blue Suede S...Expand for more