Last week, I covered for someone ... and I got to see The King.
The editor was moaning that day, because she couldn't get someone to cover a special event being held in a nursing home in the other half of the county. We supposedly have someone working over there on news, but usually she's over here, working on ad layouts. Anyway, she wasn't "there" that day, and from the way I read the editor's voice, she clearly didn't want to run over there herself.
As you may remember, I had taken Tuesday off to take David to Green Bay, so I said I would. She sounded relieved and grateful. So that afternoon I drove across the county to the county-owned nursing home, where they were having a 1950s style "sock hop" for the elderly residents--nearly all of whom were adults by the time the 1950s arrived.
No matter. A premise is a premise. Besides, they had a special attraction. Elvis was going to sing.
This nursing home is a newish building, with different wings pointing in different directions--quite a bit larger than where my mom is living. They walked me to the large hall, where the residents were being treated to Cokes and French fries, served by staff members who had happily decked themselves out in '50s-style fashion as it existed in the States. In particular, poodle skirts--skirts emblazoned with a fanciful poodle. This picture shows some of the staff distributing French fries to the residents ...
Before too long, Elvis made his appearance. He walked to a music machine, hit a few buttons, and he was all set. Apparently they make "Elvis Minus One" CDs, for the music accompaniment started coming out, and The King went to work ...
It was Elvis all right, albeit an Elvis who at times struggled to stay in tune and who avoided high notes entirely. But he attempted to shake his hips once. That was interesting to see. And sometimes he spoke in that low-pitched Elvis mumble you may have heard. On some songs, he was ... good. On others ...
He sang "All Shook Up" and "Hound Dog" and "Don't" and "You Were Always on My Mind" and a number of others. For the life of me, I can't remember the song where he battled bravely to stay in tune.
At the time, I was squatting on the floor with my camera near one of the elderly lady residents, who seemed to be looking around and smiling to herself. I caught her eye and she leaned forward and spoke into my ear.
"God! Is he terrible!"
Well, everybody's entitled to their opinion. As for myself, it was the first time I had ever seen an Elvis, even a faux Elvis. So for all the Elvises I have ever seen (all one of them), I guess he has to top the list. Of course, there's this DVD set I got for my wife, who likes Elvis a lot. The guy on those DVDs in the '68 concert special ... well, there are certain differences.
Those differences were also subtly evident on the tables, where the staff had favors in keeping with the sock hop theme. They had found a bunch of 45 records that they had on the tables. Some were pop hits from the ancient past. Others were vintage children's records. But they also had some photos of the man who was ...
Now that's a lot more like the guy we saw on my wife's DVDs. And I couldn't help wondering once again why all the faux Elvises emulate the overweight, middle-aged, white jumpsuited Elvis of the '70s, instead of this dynamic, incredibly sexy guy from the '50s and early '60s. I mean, I've seen rebroadcasts of some of the vintage TV shows from about 1955, when Elvis was just being discovered, and I mean ... Wow!
All of us who are old enough know the sad story of Elvis and how his celebrity denied him a real life. I hope he's a lot happier now.
Meanwhile, here's a scene to think about. Look at this ...
Does this--performing at nursing homes--qualify as the absolue nadir of a faux Elvis' performing career? Maybe children's birthday parties would be worse, but this would be a close second.
Anyway, I got out my recorder and recorded about 20 minutes of Faux Elvis' music, which I played back yesterday for the amusement of my office mates while we were proofreading the paper. The highlight was "One Night With You" when he was belting out "Been! Too! Lonely! Too! Long!"
Who could keep a straight face with that? Like some of the visitors seated along the outside of the room, where I went with my French fries, who would steal looks at each other and send messages to each other with their eyes, invoking smirks and suppressed laughter.
So I played the tape for the office. And then I erased it. This was, after all, a moment that man is only meant to experience one time in life.
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