The strains of “C.C. Rider” cut through the room, as the crowd screams and
turns en masse to view the Elvis impersonator bounding into the room.
On his way to the stage, Pratt waves at his fans, stops to kiss an excited middle-aged
woman, and points to someone in the crowd and laughs, all under the glare of
a white spotlight. When the music abruptly stops, the Elvis look-alike reaches
for the microphone.
There’s an eerie moment of silence. The crowd is anxious.
“How y’all doin’?”
With a nod to the soundman, Pratt blasts into a fire-breathing version of “Burning Love.”
The scene is repeated 43 more times over the next two days by 20 performers during the Seventh Annual Midwest Elvis Presley Impersonators Competition and Winter Jam, held last weekend at the Hilton Springfield.
The event is the brainchild of local entertainment impresario Fred Puglia, originator of Lincolnfest, Air Rendezvous, Concerts Under the Stars in Washington Park, and the Decatur Celebration. In 1995, Puglia was a judge for “Images of Elvis” (now “Images of the King”), a weeklong contest in Memphis that hosts hundreds of impersonators from all over the world. He then decided to do something similar, on a smaller scale, in Springfield.
Puglia hooked up with Hilton general manager Michael Fear, and now their contest is one of the largest of its kind. The show–sponsored by COOL 101.9 FM, Recycled Records, and Miller Beer–is a consistent sell-out. Almost all of the Elvis Presley tribute artists (as they prefer to be called) praise Puglia’s production.
“I’ve been to lots of these contests, and this is the best,” says Terry Williams of Clinton. “The lights, the sound system, the fans, the press–it’s the best.”
Like a lot of the performers, Williams is technically still an amateur (or, more accurately, semi-pro). He’s had to work an outside job to support his love of Elvis, though that’s about to change.
“I just took early retirement from the Illinois Department of Corrections,” Williams says. “I was one of the 11,000. Now I can devote more time to Elvis. I put together a karaoke variety package with a friend that does Rod Stewart and a women who does country artists. People just go crazy, but Elvis always goes over the best.”
Decatur’s Greg Toland, owner and operator of Teddy Bear Karaoke and Entertainment, also complimented the Springfield show, but he holds one gripe from the past.
“Last year I was in the running for the finals,” says the wig-wearing, sideburn-sporting stand-in. ” I cleared it with the hotel to put tables out by the stage to stand on. A few years ago they banned it after Rick Dunham did it and the judges said Elvis wouldn’t really do that. So I got docked 2 points from each judge for dancing on the tables, and it took me out of the finals. I told Fred the hotel OK’d it, but it was too late to do anything about it. I was mad, but he was fair, and I told him I’d come back every year he would have me. It’s all fun–that’s what it’s all about.”
The camaraderie between the competitors seems genuine. Teasing and joking come easily among the jumpsuited impersonators.
“Hey, Fred,” says Toland, leaning toward Fred Wolfe, an impersonator from Westland, Michigan. “Did you know you can rent an Elvis but you can’t lease-a-Marie?”
Bradley Scott, in a cornflower blue jumpsuit, is posing for a photo with some excitable young ladies, when Elvis Doughtery ambles by in a white and red-speckled suit and cape.
“Lose the color, Scott,” he says.
Seven judges score the competitors on appearance and costume, ability to stay in character, singing quality, and movement. Friday night each entertainer sings three songs. Saturday it’s two tunes per performer. Then the seven finalists do three songs each. Cash prizes worth $3,500 go to the top four contestants.
Everyone agrees the choice of material matters, but there’s disagreement about what songs work best. The perfect set for victory is an endless subject of analysis and discussion among Elvi (plural for multiple Kings).
“You want to hit ’em hard with an up-tempo number, then do a ballad, and go out on a power song,” explains Bradley Scott, a tanned and handsome pretender from Middleton, Ohio. “The second night is harder because of the two-song rule.
“Song choice is everything. You’ve got to get the crowd into it and find material that fits your style.”
Many take their cues from the ’70s Elvis, and the jumpsuits worn by the King are essential ingredients in their arsenals. These suits can run from $700 to $1,200 each, according to the Right Stitch, a provider of outfits to the burgeoning Elvis industry. Add a belt for $300 and a cape for twice that and the price tag can top a couple thousand dollars. Fit for a king, these replicas of the Elvis originals are the most recognizable uniforms.
“All the impersonators look like each other, but none of them looks like Elvis,” says one contest observer.
It’s true–the jumpsuit can be a crutch. No matter what you look like in the face or body, wear a jumpsuit and someone will surely say, “Hey, Elvis, have you left the building?” Younger artists with bellies behind their belts might choose the King’s ’68 black leather outfit or his gold lame jacket from the mid-60s. But by far the most popular get-up is the sequined jumpsuit and belt, with an occasional cape for the adventurous. Out of the 20 competitors, 15 wore some version of that suit. They come in white, black, blue, and red, decorated with jeweled eagles, beaded fringe, and geometric designs of unknown origins.
One of the renegade five, Kavan switched from his ’50s suit jacket in the preliminaries to a fringe-dangling white polyester outfit for the finals. He uses his stage name, which means Jupiter in Persian, to “avoid people calling me to talk about Elvis.”
At 15 years old, he is the youngest of the entertainers. “I started performing when I was 3.” What does he do when he’s not performing? “I go to high school. I’m a freshman. I like wrestling and singing in the choir.” Why does he do it? “The King lives and I want to keep his memory alive.”
At least one of the contestants believes the King is actually alive. “I’m sure of it,” says Mario Manzini, who also performs as an escape artist in a tribute to Harry Houdini. “I saw Elvis once at Madison Square Garden from the seventh row. I used to be a boxer and booked shows, so the promoter of the concert got me backstage. Frank Sinatra and Tom Jones were there. Elvis took shoelaces from one of his bodyguards and tied my hands behind my back. I got right out, and he thought that was great. He wanted me to come back to meet him at Graceland sometime.”
Manzini speaks matter-of-factly of his Elvis meetings, though with the proper respect due to royalty.
“I also saw him when I opened up for Evel Knievel at the Snake River Canyon jump. We shook pinkies through the chain link fence at the jump site. He was in with all the other celebrities, like John Wayne.”
Pressed on why he thinks Elvis faked his death, Manzini is emphatic: “He was tired of it all. He was a good man and wanted a simple life. You know, there are pictures of Elvis in Graceland after he was supposed to have died, and there never was an autopsy. They did an autopsy on JFK but not on Elvis. He’s living in Sweden with another daughter, not Lisa Marie. He also has an island out by Hawaii.”
What better way for Elvis to return than to show up at contest impersonating himself? No one would believe it was him, but could he win?
“Oh, he wouldn’t do that,” Manzini says. “He would be like that guy over there in a beard, gray-haired and just watching, but he wouldn’t perform.”
The real Elvis would shine like a beacon above these heartfelt but lowly pretenders to the throne.
“It’s pathetic, really,” says a fan in the lobby. “None of these guys even come close to what he did. Look at them. There’s fat ones, skinny ones–young and old. Some can’t sing worth a sh*t. They’ve got nothing without his reputation.”
The upset fan is with a group from work. He continues speaking like a preacher caught in a whorehouse.
“They’re not doing it to keep his music alive. They’re doing it to make themselves feel better ’cause it’s the only way they can make it in show business. It’s an easy way out, and it’s disgusting.”
Michael Martin, a 62 year-old mill wright from Benton Harbor, Michigan, says the complaining fan doesn’t understand his motivation. Martin looks more like Roy Orbison than Elvis Presley.
“I do it for the love of it,” Martin says. “You’ve got to do it from your heart. Not to make money.”
Martin put a disc where his mouth is: he produced a 12-song tribute CD, Songs From the Heart of the King. “I do all my Elvis singing for charity,” he says. “My wife and I have a karaoke business, and we do a Toys for Tots show every year and all kinds of benefits.”
Kate, his bride of five years, is a Patsy Cline karaoke queen. She looks lovingly at her husband and says, “Michael sings from his heart. I met him when he was singing karaoke at my bar. He did Elvis so well I encouraged him to continue.”
Martin first discovered his propensity for Elvisizing 17 years ago, but he never pursued it seriously–then something happened around the time he met Kate.
“When I started to learn his songs, I would feel him on my shoulder,” he says, tapping his left shoulder over the large black, sequined-encrusted collar of his jumpsuit. “Elvis would sit there–I could feel him and hear him. He’d tell me when I forgot words and encourage me to continue. I must have got them all right ’cause he doesn’t come around anymore.”
Kate nods knowingly, “Yep, he learned ’em good,” she says. “Elvis was pleased.”
Martin is not the only performer who feels a spiritual connection to Presley. Chuck Kish of La Crosse, Wisconsin, saw the King of rock ‘n’ roll perform in St. Paul, Minnesota. That was back in about 1974.
“You’ll never know the excitement of what Elvis had without seeing him live,” he says. “But I see the look on people’s faces when I sing, and they get a little bit of what he gave.”
Kish holds his hands out to include the crowd around him. “This is our family. We love them like they love us. My voice came from God. He gave it to me, and I can’t see really being able to share it with so many people except through the person of Elvis.”
A little girl in a blue dress and matching ribbons runs toward Kish, her arms open for an embrace.
“There she is!” he shouts. “There’s my little girlfriend!”
“She’s been looking all over for you since you sang to her earlier,” the girl’s mother says.
“If I can touch something as pure as this,” he says, picking the girl off the ground, “hey, it’s all worth it, whether I win a contest or not.”
As in any other profession, there are guys who climb the ladder of success to make the big bucks. Rick Lenzi says he pulls in around $100,000 a year doing his Elvis act on cruise ships, in casinos, and in concerts with his group the Memphis Kings. Lenzi is planning to tour China soon, but he has mixed feelings about the trip.
“I’m doing over 250 dates a year,” he says. “My wife supports me, but she would like me to be home more. In China, I’ll be by myself in a hotel room all day. The money is good, but it gets lonely.” Sounds familiar, eh, Elvis?
You might call them imitators, impersonators, or even sublime interpreters, but you should never refer to these contestants as imposters. More than 25 years after his death, Elvis is still discussed by them in glowing, reverential terms. They can’t explain the magic of Presley–only its effect. Fans pay good money to watch them pretend to be the man, and they believe it’s a responsibility.
“I don’t know why I like him so much,” one Elvis fan gushed outside the entrance to the Hilton. “I just know that I do.”
Out of the 20 contestants, the field narrowed to seven finalists by the second round on Saturday night. Each tribute artist sang three songs and milked those tunes for all they were worth. In this case, they were worth $1,800 for first place and a guaranteed spot at the “Images of the King” contest in Memphis.
Soon it came down to the final four. The fourth-place finish went to Bradley Scott, third to Fred Wolfe. Rick Lenzi claimed the second prize, and the crown went to Dean Z, a young entertainer from Lancaster, California.
Z performed “G.I. Blues” in military garb. He’d spent the last eleven months at the Edgewater Casino in Laughlin, Nevada, presenting his own tribute variety show, playing Buddy Holly and Elwood Blues of the Blues Brothers. He reportedly does a stirring rendition of the young Elvis.
“Springfield is the best audience I’ve ever played for,” says Z, who also won the contest in 2000. “Uh, the crowds are into it, the people are into it. They love Elvis, and we all love Elvis, and it emanates in our performances. There’s nothing like getting it all. It beats every feeling in the world. This hotel and this production company put on by far the classiest of the shows. And I love the town and can’t wait to be back next year.”
Thank you, thank you very much.
This article appears in Jun 26 – Jul 2, 2003.
