THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Saturday, May 20, 1995 TAG: 9505190060
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E1 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Column
SOURCE: Larry Maddry
LENGTH: Medium: 68 lines
HE WAS THE Valentino of the lunch-bucketed underclass, a lard-butted, swivel-hipped, crooning coyote for the couthless, a carwash Caruso with a randy sneer on his sensual lips, a swivel in his hips, and a rancid song in his heart.
And he refuses to die!
Even Dracula had the decency to stay in the coffin by day. Not Elvis. Wherever there is a squalid roadside diner with rips in the stool seats, flies buzzing around spilled catsup and a bottle of toothpicks atop the cash register, he is sure to be seen. He has been spotted in cemeteries, department stores and walking alone beside desert highways with a guitar on his shoulder.
From the far-flung towns and cities dotting our vast continent comes a sighting of Elvis about once a day. He rises in the American consciousness like a rotten meal that will not stay down.
Where, oh where, is the hero that will hunt this chimera, this squalid dream, and drive a stake through its heart, ending the foolishness forever?
Certainly not in Virginia Beach, which is offering a million dollars to the real Elvis for showing up during the city's Viva Elvis Festival, scheduled for June 1 to 4.
Yes, Elvis fever has hit Virginia Beach like a deadly Asian cholera. There will be four days of merciless musical performances by Elvis wannabes, including Black Elvis from the Eastern Shore. Once they have crawled out of the woodwork, the Elvis impersonators will ride down Atlantic Avenue in vintage Cadillac convertibles.
Hoo-boy. My worst fears and nightmares have been realized. The resort city has stretched the boundary of tastelessness with this little festival and snapped it like a cheap guitar string.
The city intends - I swear - to drop sky-diving Elvises out of the air. And, the way my luck is going, will probably raise them up from the bowels of the earth through the sewers.
If you value your sanity, mark June 1 through 4 on your calendar as the perfect weekend to get out of town.
For those sticking around that weekend, I recommend El Vez. He's the Latin Elvis lookalike who will be the big enchilada of the festival. El Vez - real name Robert Lopez - claims to be the illegitimate offspring of Elvis and Charo, the hootchie-cootchie singer.
``They were both in Las Vegas in 1960. . . the year I was born,'' El Vez says. Who needs DNA with logic like that?
El Vez's act - with music by the Memphis Mariachis - is described as ``Elvis con salsa.''
His best song is ``You Ain't Nothing but a Chihuaha.''
His best wardrobe: A patent-leather breakaway outfit shed to reveal a gold lame jumpsuit embroidered with the Virgin of Guadalupe.
His ambition: to live in a mansion that he will name Graciasland.
His traveling and musical companions: The lovely Elvettes - Gladysita, Priscilita, Lisa Maria and Que Linda Thompson.
El Vez, who has been featured on CNN, MTV and ``Entertainment Tonight,'' says he's not sure where his act is going.
That puts me one up on El Vez. By the time those sky Kings begin to drop out of the clouds, I'll be outta here. ILLUSTRATION: Color photo
El Prez claims to be the offspring of Elvis and Charo
by CNB