Elvis at the Slots
by
Helen Chappell

 

So, anyway, my friend Terri won some tickets to see Doug Church, an Elvis tribute artist, at Midway Slots in Harrington, and she knew I would want to go. It’s not the first time we’ve been to see an Elvis tribute artist; a few years ago, we saw Quentin (just Quentin) at the Avalon.
Elvis is a hobby of mine. I enjoy meditating on the deeper philosophy and zeitgeist of American culture reflected in the icon that is the King of Rock and Roll, and the morality play that is the life and strange times of America’s Protestant saint. I also enjoy his status as the God of Excess in his Vegas incarnation, as well as the great entertainer who brought us great rock ‘n’ roll.
Every five minutes in the world, someone is putting on a white sparkly jumpsuit and a pair of aviator shades, the unmistakable icons of Elvising, recognizable to everyone. Classic in his ’70s rebel incarnation.
Since the King’s death, ironically on his throne, he has become all things to all people, as well as a cash machine for the heavily litigious Elvis Presley Enterprises, which owns his rights. Dying was the best career move Elvis could have made.
But, when you turn away from ponderous thoughts on the Deeper Meaning of Elvis in American Culture, you may also enjoy the strange and endearing phenomenon of the Elvis tribute artist. It’s not my job to contemplate why people do this. It’s my self-appointed mission from God to see as many Elvis impersonators as I can conveniently fit into my budget before I die.
Impersonator. It’s an ugly word in the Elvising field. They prefer tribute artist. Some of them are pretty bad; some of them are very, very good. Accordingly, I’ve decided to award them rankings. More Gracelands, more talent and ambience.
Doug Church, from somewhere in New Jersey, was our targeted Elvis of this particular evening at Midway. With Terri’s husband, Tab, as our wheel man and personal security, we set off in high spirits across the peninsula.
I haven’t been in a casino in forty years, so I was in for some culture shock. The last time I went to the slots was in Atlantic City, a few years after the casinos were opened. They had the classic one-armed bandits many people of a certain age will recall fondly from their Maryland youth.
Back in the day, almost every private club on the Shore, and a few public places around Laurel, had the classic slot. You dropped in a coin, pulled a lever and little pictures rolled into the viewfinder. If you got, say, two or more pictures of cherries, you won some money. Lemons, you lost. All quite easy, and quite hypnotic to play. Drop coin, pull arm, pictures come up, coins come out, or no coins.
Well, all that’s changed in today’s high tech computerized world. The slots, acres and acres of them, have beautiful cartoony graphics, but for the life of us, Terri and I couldn’t figure out how to play them. Tab did, however. With his engineering mind, he figured it right out.
Terri and I won $3 and change. I think Tab won more.
We’re not high rollers, obviously, but we enjoyed the free buffet, and I spotted Cletus Spuckler from The Simpsons at the next table. Brush with greatness! Deep-fried everything! Margaritas!
So, anyway, Elvis/Doug Church was playing in the Gold Room. Why do people always name auditoriums the Gold Room? It was a packed house, and I was fascinated to note that Tab and Terri were the youngest people there, and I was almost a young person. Most of the audience was comprised of helmet-coiffed blue-headed ladies of an age old enough to have swooned when the real Elvis was gyrating on the Ed Sullivan show. Apparently, the casinos run buses from all the beach hotels to pick up the gamblers. It’s a whole different world.
When Church took the stage, I was impressed. He had captured the essence of Elvis with the hair, the sideburns and the sneer. He had all the good Elvis moves, and a white, highly embroidered Elvis jumpsuit complete with chains and glittering studs.
Okay, so anyone can put on a white jumpsuit. But he also had a four piece band and backup singers, and he sang live. I subtract four Gracelands for lip-synching. It’s cheesy. And his band was really good. He had all the Elvis patter down, in the Elvis manner, and he chose many songs that weren’t quite hits, but hadn’t been done to death by other Elvisers.
My favorite part, after a couple of margaritas, was when his stagehand brought out the scarves. Now, as any serious student of Elvis knows, the King always gave out scarves. He’d drape ’em around his neck, get his sweat and makeup on them, then hand them out to fans. No self-respecting Elvis would skip this gesture.
It was fun watching the older ladies come up to the stage and get their scarves, and they’d be so delighted when they got one, as if Elvis himself had come back from the dead just for them. That’s a fan.
So I’d give Doug Church five and a half Gracelands out of a possible six. And only Elvis would get six.
After the concert, we tried our hands at the slots, as I said. Tab was focused on his, but Terri and I got really bored, so we sat at the bar next to him. Then I got a wheelchair and wheeled myself around the casino for entertainment. I’m surprised the goons didn’t toss me out.
Now, these casinos are thick with security people in uniforms. And, of course, they have the eye in the sky, where bigger security monitors the action, looking for cheats, card counters and whatever other sins you can try to commit while gambling. Then they have these guys who sort of walk purposefully around from time to time. They’re all huge, six feet and over, with shaved heads and huge jaws and ill-fitting black suits. And you just know, from watching too much TV, these are the goon squad, the real heavy lifters who take care of serious transgressions. When I saw them, I knew I wanted a goon or two of my own. A couple of tough guys who would just follow me around. No special reason. I just think it would be cool to have my own goon squad.
One of the little old ladies at the Elvis show told me they have a different Elvis up at the casino in Dover. She assures me he’s at least as good as Doug Church.
I have a new mission. Go to Dover and check out their Elvis! It’s good to have a purpose in life.

Helen Chappell is the creator of the Sam And Hollis mystery series and the Oysterback stories, as well as The Chesapeake Book of the Dead. Under her pen name, Rebecca Baldwin, she has published a number of historical novels.