Becoming the King

Yeah, I know. It's been awhile. Somehow that teaching school thing gets in the way of my writing, but---it also gives me stuff to write about.

Not today, though.

Today, I want to relate an experience I had last weekend at Platteville's Dairy Days. My cousin Peggy invited me to go see Tony Rocker, an Elvis impersonator performing in a tent on the main stage, actually, the only stage. He was asked back by popular demand, as everyone loved him when he was here last year.

I sat in the front row with Peggy and her friends, visiting until the show started. Tony's back-up band played tunes from the 60s and 70s to get us going, and they did. They're a rockin' bunch. They put out every thing they had into a myriad of standards, like Wipeout, Sweet Caroline and Daydream Believer. Very talented musicians. It would have been enough just to listen to them.

Then, the lights dimmed, the drums rolled, and Elvis, aka, Tony, was escorted to the stage sporting the black leather and chains of the tough Elvis. And, he WAS Elvis. He owned every little facial tic, from the sneer to the sexy smile, and every sexy move, from the gyrating hips to the perfectly timed karate chops. He sang ballads and rock, and walked through the audience distributing handshakes, beads and sashes, and he never left his character. Never.

In the second set Tony came out in a replica of Elvis' famous all-white, bell-bottomed jumpsuit. He rocked some more and his moves got increasingly harder, including several pantsplitting, leg-stretching moves to the floor. He was sweating, big time, even though the tent had open sides and the night was cool. He was workin' it, and the crowd loved it, especially a drunk lady who danced around in front and almost fell into the audience.

I saw Elvis at the Colliseum in Madison in June of '74, and he died in August that same year. The person I saw was a rather large blob trying to move around, but with little success. He began songs; stopped the band; and tried again. I think he may have sung one song all the way through without interruption. But, the crowd cheered and loved him just the same, because---well, he was Elvis. Ironically, he died as a result of the people who loved him. He was a victim of his success and lost himself in the bargain, or the fame, somewhere along the line.

Most of us spend our lives trying to "find ourselves" and our "comfort zones." Last weekend I saw someone who spends his life trying to be the best he can at being someone else. And, it was a bit eerie how good he was at it, too. He was a better Elvis than the real Elvis I saw.

Actors pretend to be other people, too, but they have different roles. Tony's got one, and he portrays it over and over to crowds who love it. It would be hard not to lose yourself in the persona, wouldn't it? There's a short story here somewhere; I know it. I'll call it "Totally Elvis" or maybe "Resurrecting the King" or "Lost in a Game." Let me know what you think.