I am Elvis Presley

I am Elvis Presley

The train carriage rocks rhythmically as we track our three hundred and twenty five kilometer journey back home to Sydney. 

Sydney is my home, but to be honest I don’t know where most of these people live.  Many of the other passengers have travelled much further than I have.  Some from as far as Memphis, Tennessee, some perhaps further (I can’t truly say that I know the exact distance from Memphis to the town of Parkes, New South Wales).  I do however know that the 16th Annual Elvis Presley Festival this year has attracted more than eight thousand visitors from all over the world.

Parkes is normally quite a sleepy outback town, although still famous in its own right for its giant radio telescope.  ‘The Dish’ as we affectionately call it, was instrumental in keeping the Americans in touch with their astronauts on the first Moon Landing back in 1969.  I wasn’t born back then, but the locals still tell the story. I’ve only been coming to Parkes for the last five years. 

On my first visit to Parkes, I went to see the telescope.  It is quite an attraction in itself.  I drove out there with an old girlfriend.  The relationship didn’t last, I fell in love with the town instead.  We had no idea that we were arriving in Parkes on the weekend of the Annual Elvis Presley festival. 

I have to admit I felt pretty uncomfortable about the way she mocked the locals and the multitude of Elvis impersonators who happened to be parading through the streets as we tried to find somewhere to get our lunch.  It was all so nostalgic to me.  I was embarrassed that I had to hide the fact that I was actually enjoying seeing all these people having fun and celebrating the life of a man from a far away country, in another world, who had so much impact on their lives.

I remember where I was when Elvis Presley died.  Though I don’t think I knew who he was at the time.  All I remember is sitting in my fathers arms on the couch in front of the television as he sobbed, uncontrollably at first.  I stayed with him there quietly as he slowly calmed down and then we sat in front of the television together.

We had many more moments on the couch together throughout our lives.  On Sunday afternoons we used to watch old Elvis movies, often it was the Sunday double, two classic Elvis movies to last the whole afternoon.  It was a pretty good way to spend a wintry day.  Even my dad had to admit that the man was a pretty bad actor.  The songs always cheered him up though, when Elvis reached for that conveniently placed guitar my Dad’s eyes used to glaze over and a peaceful smile would come over his face.

It wasn’t long after our trip to Parkes that Sally and I broke up. There were plenty of reasons why we were not suited for each other.  But she never knew that deep down in my heart it was her disrespect for the King which meant for me that we could never have a future together.

I came back again the following year to check out the festival without Sally’s ridicule and it was amazing.  I haven’t missed a year since. 

None of my workmates know that I come out here either.  I doubt they would even suspect.  They just think I like to request an extra couple of days leave early in January.  I am certain that they don’t even know that it is always the closest weekend to Elvis Presley’s birthday.  It’s not like I advertise my love for the King.  Apart from a small figurine next to my computer monitor, there are no other signs of my passion.

On our way home the atmosphere on the train is laid back and relaxed.  We are all just as exhausted as each other.  At the back of the carriage Elvis strums his guitar tenderly.  At the front of the train Elvis and Priscilla doze on each others shoulders.  There they are again in the third row and again in the twelfth.

As I too begin to drift towards sleep I remember the events of the weekend.

On Friday morning, an excited trainload of Elvis’ and other fans, boarded the Countrylink Elvis Express at Central Sydney station.  The train journey has become one of the highlights of the festival.  Train tickets are not all that easy to come by.  I purchased mine at last year’s festival for about two weeks salary.  They told me it was well worth the money, if only for the atmosphere. 

The welcome that we received at the platform was like all the rockin’ parties in all the Elvis movies, all rolled into one.  There was singing and dancing and streamers and old cars, I have never seen anything quite so impressive.

Everyone is so friendly in Parkes, they all call you by name, which is not so hard when everyone’s name is Elvis.

“G’day Elvis”, Elvis said to me as I stepped from the train onto the platform.
Elvis then gave me directions to the Graceland hotel.

“G’day Elvis” Elvis greeted me as I checked in.  I thanked Elvis as he took my bags upstairs to my room and I made my way to the bar, where Elvis poured me a beer.

“G’day Elvis” Elvis called across the bar to me.  “it’s good to see you back again”.  Of course I recognized this Elvis immediately.  This was Parkes’ local King, Elvis Lennox.  Elvis Lennox is a local legend. 

The story goes that in 1959 at the age of five, a boy named Neville Lennox began collecting Elvis memorabilia after seeing Love me Tender at the Bourke Picture Theatre.  In 1997 Neville and his wife made a pilgrimage to Graceland.  Upon returning, Neville decided to change his name to Elvis by Deed Poll.  These days Elvis Lennox is instrumental in organizing the Parkes festival.  His mates still call him Lenno.

“I got plans for you this year, mate”  Elvis grinned at me, he may have changed his name, but he still holds a strong Aussie accent.

“Oh yeah Elvis, what’s that?”

“You’re getting on stage at the pavilion”

“Oh no mate, I got up at the amateur show last year, that was enough for me.  I only did that coz you wouldn’t leave me alone about it.”

“Yeah well I wont be leavin’ you alone about this one either, mate.  Everyone raved about you last year.  You’re movin up to the big time this year.  I got you a spot supporting Mark Andrews”.

“Mark Andrews!” I tried not to spit out my beer.  “You can’t put me up before him.  He’ll wipe the floor with me.”

“Oh well, worst case is you’ll make him look good.  C’mon mate you’ll have a ball”

Two years ago Mark Andrews sold out at the Pavillion to a massive crowd.  The only guy in the whole town who wasn’t being called Elvis this weekend, was probably the best Elvis impersonator of the lot of us.

I drained my glass and looked over to my old friend.
“I reckon you’re gonna have to buy me another beer mate.”  I said.  He smiled his wry little smile and reached for his wallet.

Lenno and I had a good laugh that night.  We always did when we caught up, reminiscing on events of the past year.  After a few drinks I almost completely forgotten about being set up. 

If the truth be known.  I did have a special suit set aside that I was planning on wearing at the Amateur night.  Last year Lenno got me up there on stage and I had a great time.  Got a pretty good reception as I recall too.  I was prepared to get up again at what amounted to an all Elvis Karaoke night.  But I had no idea that I would allow myself to get roped into a massive event at the Pavillion.

On Saturday morning, I still hadn’t thought too much about it.  I got dressed up in my white flared jumpsuit and big glasses.  I placed my quiff squarely on my head and put a little extra grease in for good measure.  I raced out the door to make sure I was early for the ten o’clock Elvis Street Parade.

As we walked through the streets of Parkes I heard another familiar voice
“Hey Elvis, I saw you’re on the program for the Pav tonight. Nice work.”
I just smiled and waved back.  It all came back to me and I felt a sinking feeling of nerves in my stomach.

I must have been the most preoccupied Elvis on the streets that day.  Small children waved at me and I waved back distractedly, while all around me Elvis’ of all shapes and sizes performed Karate moves and double handed, roundhouse, full body, pelvic driven waves for the cheering onlookers.

Saturday passed in a blur.  It became even more surreal when I was watching the classic cars of the era demonstration later in the afternoon and a large black 1960s Rolls Royce Phantom pulled up next to me and the door opened.

“Hop in mate, its time to start getting ready.”  It was Lenno again.
I hopped into the car.  It was immaculate.
“We’d better swing by the hotel.  I’ve got another costume in my bag.”  I mentioned, trying to pull myself back to reality.

There was so much activity backstage.  Makeup, sound checks, musicians everywhere, dancers, costume hangers on.  The place was a hive of activity.

It almost came as a shock to me when Lenno came up and said.
“Righto Elvis time to get on stage.”
“But I’m not even ready” I pleaded.
“Well you had all day mate.  You look pretty good to me” Straighten up your quiff, we’ll get you some grease”

I could hear a low grumbling at first.  Then I began to make out what it was.  The crowd was chanting.
“Elvis!, Elvis!, Elvis!...”

Lenno had to push me out on stage.  The band were already warming up and I made my way slowly over to the microphone.  I took a deep breath and tried not to show my fear.  I had a few karate moves up my sleeves, so I limbered myself up as I walked across the enormous stage in front of the band.  I could hear cheers in the crowd, but all I could see were lights, bright lights, shining directly into my eyes.

I stood facing the crowd for an eternity and the band went silent.  Then quietly and slowly they began to play.  I had given Lenno the three songs that I knew inside out, but I let the band decide the order.  The crowd recognized the first song on the first note, but I had to wait for them to die down to hear it myself.  Then from somewhere, words formed from my mouth into the microphone.

Well it’s a one for the money
Two for the show
Three to get ready now
Go! Go! Go!...

There is something about ‘Blue suede shoes’ that speaks to every Elvis fan.  I could hear whistles and screams from behind the wall of white light that I was performing to. 

The lights dimmed and the band went silent.  I looked behind me and the head guitarist nodded to me.  I knew what that meant.  I would have to start this one off myself.

As the river flows
Surely to the sea
Darlin’ so it goes
Some things are meant to be
But I can’t help
Falling in love with you…

I was almost in tears myself by the end of that one.
There was a long silence until I reached for the microphone again.  The band finally brought me in, I knew which one was coming up, this would be a strong finale.

Lord Almighty
I can feel my temperature rising…

…I’m just a hunk, a hunk of burning love
I’m just a hunk, a hunk of burning love
I’m just a hunk, a hunk of burning love
I’m just a hunk, a hunk of burning love
I’m just a hunk, a hunk of burning love

Screams and cheering erupted once again and the lights came down so that for the first time that night I could see my audience.  I almost passed out at the sight of them, sweat was pouring down my face.  A sea of faces cheering for me stretching as far as I could make out in the distance.

“Thank you, Thank you very much” I called out to them in a bad southern drawl.

The band started to play a the instrumental piece which was my cue to make my way off the stage.  I still held the microphone in my hands. I leant into it.

“Ladies and gentlemen you’re a wonderful crowd.”  My chest heaved with excitement.  “I hope you enjoy Mark Andrews tonight”
“I’ll see you all again next year” I could still hear them cheering me on. 
“I love you all” The music got louder so that I had to shout my last words to them.
 
“I am Elvis Presley!”

The cheering of the crowd was all I could hear as I ran from the stage with my arms in the air.

I didn’t come down from that cloud until well into the small ours of Sunday morning.  I have to admit I missed all of Mark Andrew’s performance on account of an adrenaline rush like I have never experienced.  Afterwards Lenno and I partied all night in a way that would have made the original King proud.

The events of Sunday were a blur.  I do remember the gospel chapel service.  After that I felt peaceful and lay on the grass as the last of the entertainment at the Arena wound up.  I may have slept but awoke in time to make my way back to the hotel to pack my things and get back to the train in time.

It was some weekend.  And now as we roll into central station the lights of Sydney light up the night sky.  I am looking forward to bed.  I have only a short rail trip ahead of me before I will be home.

Tomorrow I will sleep all day and perhaps in the afternoon get out some of Dad’s old LP’s to reminisce about the weekend. 

On Tuesday I will head back to work, where my workmates will ask about my weekend.  When I tell them it was great, they might just think I had a nice relaxing time.  They wont be thinking that I have spent my entire weekend impersonating Elvis.  They certainly won’t suspect that my weekend culminated in a live performance before more than five thousand people.  But that’s okay, because the Annual Parkes Elvis Festival is my little secret.

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