A true Memphis teen

Robert Hilburn’s story on the birth of rock ‘n’ roll (“Rock’s Delivery Room,” July 4) was one of the best, and I’ve read many of them.

In 1952, I was delivering the Memphis Press-Scimitar to the Presley family during a period when they sometimes couldn’t come up with the 30 cents a week. At that time the Presleys lived on Saffarans Avenue. I lived on the next street over and his family and mine were on the waiting list for Lauderdale Courts.

We both made the upwardly mobile move into public housing and my family moved into a unit about two blocks from the Presleys and across a courtyard from Bill Black’s mother, brother and two sisters. 1952 was my 7th grade year and my first year at Humes High School, where Elvis was a junior and already wearing those “sporty duds” from Lansky’s.

My connections and experiences with Elvis are extensive and I could go on but I am really writing more to commend Hilburn for capturing the spirit and soul of Memphis in the ‘50s and especially Memphis teens of the period like myself.

Humes was the poorest white school in a generally poor city. Did we, during that period of strict segregation, have an unspoken affinity, even admiration, for the blacks with whom we shared poverty but with whom we had little personal contact? The answer, I think, is yes, and that’s why we embraced “their” music with gusto.

At a ’57 Humes reunion we’ll dance to Little Richard, not Pat Boone. I have lived in California since right after graduation in ’57. I’ve talked about my school years in Memphis with friends of my age from all over the country. We were indeed different and we’re damn proud of it.

Jim Carroll

Burbank