Elvis Presley’s Wild Miami Concerts in 1956

On the surface, 1950s Miami felt like a small-town, friendly place—simple, uncomplicated, and deeply Southern. Former Florida Gov. and U.S. Sen. Bob Graham, a 19-year-old college freshman in 1956, remembers it fondly:

“There wasn’t a better time and place to grow up. Miami was a relatively small and neighborly place; quiet and laid back.”

“My-am-uh,” as locals called it, was as conservative and religious as any town in Alabama, Georgia, or Mississippi. The Miami Daily News printed a Bible verse daily on its editorial page, and the Miami Herald carried two full pages of church news every Saturday.

But beneath the calm facade, inequality was baked in. White males controlled politics, business, and newspapers; change wasn’t on their agenda. Segregation ruled—Blacks were barred from white restaurants, theaters, and beaches; schools were strictly divided by race.

In August 1956, change rolled into town anyway. A lavender Lincoln Premiere sped south on US-1 carrying 21-year-old Elvis Presley, the Memphis truck driver turned rock ‘n’ roll sensation.

By summer 1956, Elvis’s popularity had exploded after nearly two years of Southern concerts, national TV appearances (showing his famous gyrations), and hits like “Heartbreak Hotel” (inspired by a 1955 Miami Herald article about a suicide note: “I walk a lonely street”).

With his first movie set to begin filming in late August, manager Col. Tom Parker scheduled one final live tour: seven Florida cities. Miami was the first stop—seven shows on Aug. 3 and 4 at the ornate Olympia Theater on Flagler Street.

Presley checked into the downtown Robert Clay Hotel, blocks from the theater. Col. Parker turned down an invitation to stay at the swanky Fontainebleau in Miami Beach, fearing fan damage, and kept appearances limited to the theater only.

The Frenzy Begins

‍Even before Elvis arrived, anticipation was high. Miami Daily News show-biz columnist Herb Rau warned on Aug. 1: the Olympia was taking every precaution to avoid a two-day riot. A dozen off-duty cops were hired to guard against

“every delinquent kid in town—plus many who aren’t delinquents but are fascinated by a duck-tailed hair-do playing the guitar and squirming his hips.”

Friday morning, a Miami Daily News reporter caught Elvis at the hotel for the first local interview. Presley told reporter Bella Kelly he never wore blue suede shoes (“too many people wantin’ to stomp all over ‘em”) and preferred black pants. On his style: “I’m not trying to look sexy. I move around because that’s the way I feel when I sing. It has nothing to do with sex.”

Around 4 p.m. Friday, Elvis hit the Olympia stage in a pink jacket, black pants, and white shoes. Miami Herald reporter Denne Petitclerc captured the scene:

“Elvis Presley… staggered onto the stage like a drunken Brando. The mob… stood up and shrieked… Presley jogged around the mike… the jam of teenage girls wouldn’t let his voice go.”

Girls surged to the stage, arms raised; police pried them back.

Miami Daily News reviewer Damon Runyon Jr. was far less impressed, calling the performance “contrived” and “obscene”—a “ribald routine” from a “hypnotized hillbilly.”

Fans grabbed anything they could—tearing Presley’s pink jacket, clutching his pants leg. After Friday’s last show, his lavender Lincoln was covered in hundreds of love notes and lipstick phone numbers. On Saturday, he traded it at Miami Lincoln Mercury for a new white Continental Mark II (sticker price $10,688).

Saturday brought four more shows (final at 9 p.m.). Elvis left soon after for Tampa.

The Iconic Photo

‍Miami Daily News photographers Charles Trainor and Don Wright documented the chaos. Trainor’s enduring shot—Elvis leaning back on his toes, mic pulled close, mouth open mid-lyric, guitar dangling—became legendary (later in LIFE, Rolling Stone, and worldwide publications). The News ran it inside; front-page went to alley shots of hysterical fans.

Wright, now in West Palm Beach (retired Pulitzer-winning cartoonist), recalls the night as “slightly overwhelming.” He wasn’t an Elvis fan then—“I thought he was a passing phenomenon”—but remembers “waves of ecstasy” every time Presley moved.

Postscripts

‍Bob Graham attended and still recalls Presley’s “mystique”—he stops to listen when an Elvis song plays.

Damon Runyon Jr. died tragically in 1968. Charles Trainor passed in 1987; his negatives preserved by his son. Don Wright went on to editorial cartooning at the Miami News and Palm Beach Post.

The Olympia Theater (now restored and active) still stands as a historic venue. Trainor and Wright didn’t capture rock ‘n’ roll’s birth—but they documented its explosive early steps in Miami.

Editor’s Note: Originally published August 07, 2011. Updated in 2026 with new photography; while preserving Bill Cooke's original story.