"I buzz my daughter and seat the folks in the visitation room. They can walk the dog, wash up, maybe watch an old home movie of Jerry Lee playing piano," says Frankie Jean. "While theyÆre doing that, I spray a little Lysol, brush my teeth and put up the vacuum cleaner so nobody trips over the cord. By then my daughter has gotten down here and IÆm ready to give a tour while she looks after the drive through."

Such planning and preparation is necessary. For in addition to her duties as chief tour guide and de-facto curator at the museum, Frankie Jean runs a drive through liquor store, the likes of which youÆve never seen before.

Before you teetotalers make a break for the door, you should know that, while the liquor store is a marvel of Southern entrepreneurial ingenuity, the Lewis home will capture the attention of even the most temperate tourist.

You enter through what was once the garage of a low-slung, brick home. And as your feet sink into a multi-colored shag rug, Frankie Jean begins a rapid-fire recitation of her family history. ItÆs a good thing she hurries because thereÆs a lot to tell.

Among its members, the Lewis family counts three famous first cousins: firebrand rock and roller Jerry Lee Lewis, country music singer Mickey Gilley, and adulterous evangelist Jimmy Swaggart. Add to the mix a history of moonshine liquor made and jail time served by Jerry Lee and Frankie JeanÆs father, Elmo, and youÆve got a potent brew.

Pictures of Jerry Lee cover nearly every surface in the house. Baby portraits and family Bibles share wall and shelf space with framed, handwritten sermons penned by Jerry Lee "during his religious phase." In the den, Jerry LeeÆs phone card (P.I.N. No. 6788) is preserved in a sheath of plastic. To the casual observer, the house looks like nothing more than a jumble of bric-a-brac. But the keen observer will notice treasures among the trash.

Beneath a heavy sheet of glass, the dining room table is covered with publicity stills and a memento or two. Look closely and youÆll see a check from Elvis A. Presley to Frankie Jean for $10,403.99. Ask her why itÆs there and, in a sorrowful tone, sheÆll tell you, "Oh, Elvis, he was all on drugs; he thought I was a Chevrolet salesman."

In a corner of the living room, behind the gleaming, black grand piano, stands a cardboard cutout of Marilyn Monroe. If you happen to notice the ring on MarilynÆs finger, Frankie Jean will tell you, "ThatÆs MarilynÆs wedding ring. She was real upset one night and just took it off and gave it to me."

Unlike most home tours, nothing is off limits in the Lewis Family Museum. No ropes restrain the curious. No armed guard pats his gun and eyes you warily.

Instead, as you wander through the house, Frankie Jean encourages you to inspect the closets or peek in the bathroom. Take her up on the offer. You may never get the chance to see the potty-chair of a genuine rock and roll idol again.

At first, Frankie JeanÆs openness is disconcerting. She holds nothing back. Warts and all, she loves her family and wants you to share in a little of that love. She is just as comfortable pointing out a picture of a young Jerry Lee playing accordion in the family kitchen as she is answering questions about her father, who she says, "served a year in prison for making moonshine. Yeah, Daddy hauled a lot of really good groceries in his day."

If, after the $6 tour, you want to share a bit more of that "Lewis family love," ask Frankie Jean to open up the souvenir cabinet so that you may pick up a nifty button, church fan or potholder for a dollar or two, or a T-shirt for $10.

A vintage Jerry Lee Lewis poster hangs on the wall at the Lewis Family Museum.
Photos by John T. Edge