ELEGANZA

Of all the dead rock stars I can think of, Elvis Presley seems the most likely candidate to have fudged his own demise. Yeah, Morrison talked about it, but Elvis’s fame was infinitely more suffocating and considering El’s longtime interests in voyeurism and makebelieve intrigue cum mysticism and his own status as a demi-god, it doesn’t seem unreasonable to assume the idea at least crossed his mind once in a while. And the King no doubt had all the resources necessary to set up and document a false death..

If nothing else, the abstract idea of Elvis 86’-ing a wax dummy and kicking back with a box of Nutty-Buddys in Costa Rica doesn’t seem any more wacked-out than many demonstrably true details of his life. Kid from Tupelo, Mississippi sells800 million albums worldwide? Come oooooon.

Three days after El’s exit on August 16, 1977, author Gail Brewer-Giorgio got Elvis on the brain and cranked out a novel called Orion, basically a loose

Notes assemblage of previously published discrepancies surrounding his death, unattributed stories and conflicting theories about what Really Happened—the body Ginger Alden found on the bathroom floor was Elvis in a temporary drug-induced coma. No, it was Elvis using his yoga powers to remain in suspended animation. No, it was a terminally-ill Elvis-looking guy from England, who’d been brought to Graceland to die in comfort (“Have another Demerol, Terence?”) and then serve as stand-in corpse.

What we don’t get are first-hand accounts of much of anything from anyone, like maybe Memphis police or medical personnel or members of Elvis’ entourage or music-industry insiders who might be able to shed new light on all this. The author continually reiterates that the many similarities between Elvis and her character Orion (fave sandwich of choice of both: peanut butter, banana and mayo) must be cosmic coincidence (she even

was being interviewed with full cooperation. If the King had deliberately dropped out of sight, it seems foolish for him to go around giving lengthy phone interviews, since obviously a tape recording of such (which could be made without his knowledge) would be a highly marketable item and could blow his cover. And if Elvis went to such lengths to get away, it seems likely that the folks he’d be calling would be family and close friends, people who wouldn’t turn around and try to exploit the situation. Finally, why would the interviewer’s voice be erased? So that the person’s identity couldn’t be discovered, obviously, but more specifically so that investigators wouldn’t swoop down like hawks (as they certainly would) and demand further information, which would probably settle the authenticity question real quick.

The tape could be fake, or it could be a genuine bit of self-indulgent fantasy Elvis recorded himself back in 75 or

'Well, You Know I Can Be Found...

Elvis bio (Brewer-Giorgio claims she was never a serious fan) with the extra twist that “Musical Messiah” Orion Eckley Darnell stages his death at the end in order to cop a little peace and quiet. Half of Is Elvis Alive? is simply Brewer-Giorgio’s account of events surrounding that book—dealings with the William Morris literary agency (who, as it seems, are in real tight with Col. Parker); the release and subsequent disappearence of Orion, Sun Records’ unauthorized appropriation of the novel to launch their masked Elv-alike singer Orion (no, he was really a guy named Jimmy Ellis) and the eventual development of the “Elvis was ahead of me in line at the A&P, I swear to God” mythology that more or less parallels Orion’s plot.

Brewer-Giorgio’s personal saga is relatively well-documented and is fascinating as an example of how an average person can get slapped around by vast financial powers simply because she presented a logical idea that no one had really articulated before. Unfortunately, the crucial part of Is Elvis Alive?—hard evidence to support that notion—is merely a Cliff’s

hints at some kind of “psychic link”) becausathere’s no way she could have obtained personal details on Elvis before he died and the slew of popular biographies hit the shelves. Maybe, but I bet anybody with a wad of cash and the right phone numbers could have dug up vast quantities of Elvis data in Memphis at any time; and in passing, one must consider that Ms. BrewerGiorgio may be engaged in a longterm, self-fulfilling conspiracy of her own.

The supposed clincher, of course, is the cassette accompanying the book, which claims to present fragments of somebody’s phone conversations with the big E in 1981. The voice does sound like Elvis Presley (and we’re told, was verified by a voice-print analyst L.H. Williams as being Elvis “with a moderate level of confidence”), displays his easy, halting speech of patterns and says things that Elvis ’81 would probably say.

There are, however, some anomalies in the presentation of the tape—the voice of the person to whom Elvis was speaking has been erased, but El responds in a manner suggesting he

whatever—“Hey Red, let’s,... let’s pretend I faked muh own death and you’re interviewin’ me about it on th’ telephone.” It is worth noting that there are no details on the tape—no mention of current events, music, etc.—to substantiate a post-77 recording date.

Millions of people want to believe the King’s happy and living in Kalamazoo or Hawaii—I know I do. But somebody’s going to have to do a lot more serious reportage than rehashing old 20/20 broadcasts before they’ll convince me. That’s perhaps the neatest thing about this book, that it depends on faith (Elvis as Jesus. Elvis as Bigfoot, for that matter), which means that whether Gail Brewer-Giorgio is correct or not, things will continue in the same way. Elvis will remain dead or in seclusion, dumbfounded housewives will continue to spot him at the A&P, believers will believe, skeptics will scoff. Unless he decides to make Aloha From Hawaii2001 or something.

Did I mention that Gail B-G has re-secured the rights to Orion and is about to issue her own paperback edition? The King is dead, long live the merchandising. s

Tom Nordlie

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