Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SATURDAY, January 8, 1994 TAG: 9401080056
SECTION: CURRENT PAGE: NRV2 EDITION: NEW RIVER VALLEY
SOURCE: Ken Davis
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
That time has come for me.
Regardless of what may befall me after this date, my journalistic principles, high ideals and strong convictions are forcing me to expose the truth to the public, no matter the cost. So here it is:
I saw Elvis.
Okay, so it have been Elvis.
Okay, so maybe it Elvis, but darned if it didn't look like him.
It was sometime after midnight. A friend and I stood in the cool air outside one of Roanoke's smoke-filled watering holes, discussing the cultural value of Daffy Duck cartoons before deviating into the more trivial topics of local politics and existentialism.
As we parted company and I prepared to drive back to my apartment in Blacksburg, a mysterious stranger leaned against the wall near me.
Intrigued and somewhat leery, I turned to let my eyes greet my new wall-mate.
It was Elvis.
No, he wasn't swinging his hips while singing "Hound Dog" or wearing rhinestone sunglasses around a portly, sideburned face.
But take away the stereotypes, add some salt and pepper hair (mostly salt), a few wrinkles, some bags under the eyes and an extra chin or two and bingo! You've got my mysterious stranger and a dead-ringer for a beyond-middle-aged Elvis.
Before you lambaste me as an Elvis-crazed groupie or a hard-up impoverished journalist bucking for the anchor position on "A Current Affair," keep in mind that I hate that show - since Maury Povich left it, anyway.
Heck, I'm not even that crazy about Elvis, even though I am a big fan of old rock 'n' roll. If it were up to me, Chuck Berry would wear the king's crown.
"But what if this dude really is Elvis?" I thought to myself as the mysterious stranger stood silently beside me.
Just then, images of future possibilities began to flash through my mind.
I would go down in history as the man who finally found Elvis.
Robert Stack would call me personally and ask me to appear on Unsolved Mysteries.
Print and broadcast media organizations from around the globe would knock on my door, begging me to head their newly formed Task Force On Famous Supposedly-Dead Guys.
Maybe I'd even make the Maury Povich show.
So, being a professional journalist trained in the fine art of poking my nose where it doesn't belong, I formed a plan.
"You know, they say that Billy Ray Cyrus jerk is the next Elvis," I said to the mysterious stranger, hoping to evoke some jealousy that might prove his undoing. "Do you believe that?"
No response. Time for a new strategy.
"Won't you wear my ring up around your neck . . . " I sang lightly, thinking for sure that mutilating an Elvis song would force the mysterious stranger to make some sort of self-incriminating remark. Nope. He just shifted away from me with an agitated grunt.
Heck with it, I thought. Time for the direct approach.
"Uhh, has anyone ever told you you really look like Elvis?" I asked with a light laugh.
The mysterious stranger looked my way, gave a small smirk and uttered: "Muhumph."
That was it. We stood there in silence - leaving me wondering what in the heck "muhumph" meant, and no doubt leaving him wondering what maximum-security mental institution I had escaped from.
After a few minutes, my wall-mate left as quickly and mysteriously as he had appeared, leaving me with more questions.
Could it really have been Elvis? I know it sounds crazy, but what if he's actually here, hiding out somewhere in our area, reading these same words you're reading and laughing about his never-ending fame?
Hogwash. Ridiculous. Imagine, the Elvis Presley actually alive and well somewhere in Southwest Virginia and reading this column right now. What kind of moron would really believe that?
Uhh, I was just kidding about that Chuck Berry remark, Mr. Presley.
\ Ken Davis, a free-lance writer for this newspaper, professes to care little about Elvis. But he does remember the King of rock 'n' roll's birthday. Elvis would have been 59 today.
by CNB