Graceland Visit Reveals a Lot--About Us : On the 14th anniversary of Presley’s death, pilgrimage shows our insatiable appetite for the saddest and most bizarre facets of the rock ‘n’ roller’s life.

Isn’t it funny how we pay tribute to our celebrities?

When was the last time you tuned in a talk show where callers were debating President Kennedy’s philosophy on equal rights? Yet not a week goes by that we can’t walk into the supermarket and discover some new “detail” about his rumored tete-a-tete with Marilyn Monroe.

Likewise, the big question Kitty Kelley got Americans talking about with her Nancy Reagan biography had nothing to do with whether Nancy knew about, or was involved in, the alleged back-room plan to delay the release of Iran hostages in 1980 until after her husband’s election was secure. The hot talk was about what Nancy and Ol’ Blue Eyes were up to.

But even those rumors pale next to the astonishing bounty of gossip that Elvis Presley, still dead after all these years, continues to generate. One journal recently reported sighting Elvis somewhere in Indiana, driving a truck for a charity that collects furniture for the homeless. Masai tribesmen in Tanzania, polled by another tabloid to name their Top 10 favorite news stories of late, cited one that appeared under the headline “Elvis’ Ghost is Spooking My Cows.”

It’s not too surprising that “Elvis and Me,” an ultra-tawdry two-part TV movie about Elvis the Icon, played to millions recently on network TV. But “Elvis in ‘56,” a superb documentary about Elvis the Singer in his absolute prime, probably will be seen by scant handfuls when it airs on public TV this month. (KOCE Channel 50 shows it Sunday at 5:30 p.m. and again Aug. 23 at 8 p.m. See accompanying story.)

During a recent pilgrimage to Memphis, my wife and I wandered gape-mouthed through Graceland, the mansion that the upstart rock ‘n’ roller bought in 1957, and died in 20 years later on Aug. 16, 1977.

My first source of amazement was the way the tour guides whitewash what surely was the most widely reported drug-related celebrity death ever. (Or, as our congenial, euphemism-ready guide described it, “the evening that Elvis unfortunately passed away.”)

Also, I knew Graceland was reputed to be the Taj Mahal of garish interior design, and I knew his fans loved--and in many cases, love--Elvis. But even that knowledge didn’t prepare me for this up-close-and-personal view of the public’s insatiable appetite for the saddest and most bizarre facets of Elvis’ life.

Most tourists spent little time examining the mementos connected with his greatest accomplishments--the guitar behind which he swiveled that pelvis for the nation in the ‘50s, the black leather suit he wore during his triumphant comeback TV special in 1968. What riveted the most attention were items like Elvis’ favorite gun (a turquoise-handled Colt .45 semiautomatic), his largest jeweled belt buckle--testimonials to his indulgence in gross excess.

Farther along, folks paying their respects--and $8.95 a head for the mansion tour, other tours sold separately-- oohed and aahed over the one-piece polyester jumpsuits Elvis wore on stage in his final years. The Elvis who sported these in the mid-’70s was most often a sad and pale imitation of the one who wore the stark black leathers from ’68 and ‘69, or the famous gold lame jacket of ’57.

It’s not like I didn’t learn anything at Graceland. For instance, there were display cases with scripts from several of Elvis’ films. Having only my adolescent viewings of “Girl Happy” and “Tickle Me” to go on, I’d always assumed they’d simply been lifted straight from Bazooka Joe comics.

Call me disrespectful, but I can’t imagine anyone trekking to Memphis because of a hunka-hunka burnin’ need to see the original source for “Spinout.”

The most revealing contradiction between Elvis the Sideshow and Elvis the Singer can be found a few miles away from Elvis Presley Boulevard, a drab brick building at 706 Union Ave. with a single word, “SUN,” across its face in yellow neon.

It’s the studio where, in 1954, Elvis made the landmark recordings that helped define the very sound, spirit and attitude of rock ‘n’ roll music. It’s a goose-bump-inducing place where one gets the feeling that Elvis, guitarist Scotty Moore and bassist Bill Black still ride the “Mystery Train” on a good night.

Unlike Graceland, where 24 buses full of tourists pull up 10 hours a day, seven days a week, to glimpse Elvis’ Alamo, Sun sees only a few visitors--I’d suspect mostly rock critics, historians and early-rock aficionados.

There are regular tours of Sun studios, too. But less than a dozen people waited in the low-key Sun Studios Cafe next door--the same day that thousands of gawkers were streaming into the parking lot at Graceland (right across the street from Graceland Chrysler-Plymouth, which touts itself as “The King of Dealerships”).

I suspect Sun would get more visitors if they could show that Elvis had invited Marilyn Monroe in one night. Or maybe Ol’ Blue Eyes.