Being a baby boomer is more than a statistic, it’s a state of mind. Boomers rock and everyone knows it. And by everyone I mean the baby boomers. We baby boomers tend to have a high opinion of ourselves, and there is plenty of evidence that supports that notion.
We are the majority in America — at least it feels like it — and in a democracy the majority rules. It doesn’t take a Mr. Wizard to tell you that of all the generations currently on Earth, the boomers have been the luckiest of all. Our parents, who are often referred to as the “Greatest Generation,” were born into a massive economic depression and grew up during a devastating world war. Bummer.
Boomers, on the other hand, were born into an era of great American prosperity and simplicity. A country where many families lived in the suburban splendor of two-car garages, manicured lawns and a swing set in the backyard. (And although swing set took on a whole different meaning in the ’70s, it was usually kept out of the backyard.) It was a time when people could park their cars in their driveways with the keys in the ignition and leave their front doors unlocked with nothing more to fear than having their nosy neighbor Gladys drop in at dinnertime.
Yes, it’s quite clear as we look back on the early life and times of the baby boomers, that we are the lucky ones. One of the driving ambitions of our parents was to make the world a better place for their kids and give them everything that they didn’t have when they were children. And we, the kids, were the beneficiaries. If we wanted ice cream and candy, we got both.
When our birthdays or Christmas rolled around we made long lists of toys that we saw advertised on TV during after-school or Saturday morning programming. Some of us did additional shopping from store catalogs that came in the mail from Sears, Roebuck and Co. or Montgomery Ward. Since our parents didn’t want to disappoint us they usually bought us everything we asked for even if they couldn’t afford it. Is it any wonder we developed into the “Me” generation?
While every generation has a fondness for the pop culture of their times, there’s no arguing with a boomer that ours is the greatest. And we continue to hold on to that legacy tighter than a G.I. Joe with kung fu grip. Remember that we were the first generation to grow up with both television and rock ’n’ roll, which had a profound affect on our formative years.
Rock ’n’ roll is the official music of the baby boomers. Rooted in rhythm and blues and country music, rock ’n’ roll’s liberating joy and rebellious tone helped define our generation like no other music could. By the time each boomer was old enough to fill their teenage dance shoes, rock ’n’ roll was there to give them something to twist and shout about.
From the early days of Elvis and Chuck Berry to the British invasion to the psychedelic daze of purple haze on through to the sound of heavy metal thunder and alt-rock, the genre has supplied the soundtrack to baby boomers’ lives. Who else but us can lay claim to growing up on the immortal sounds of the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan and the Beach Boys. Or more “high”-minded musicians like the Doors, Pink Floyd, the Grateful Dead and, for many, the Bee Gees (who were more high-pitched than minded).
Many of us were raised on television at a time when there were only three networks and a couple of local stations, yet you could always find something good to watch. It was a time when reality TV was known as the nightly news and the stars of the show were respected journalists like Walter Cronkite, Harry Reasoner, Chet Huntley and David Brinkley. They all had an avuncular quality that projected an image of trustworthiness. Plus, they only subjected us to the harsh reality of the news for 30 minutes.
What other generation would so fanatically embrace TV shows about talking horses, suburban housewife witches or flying nuns? Those shows tickled our imaginations and instilled in us a more frivolous attitude towards life than our parents had — like maybe when we grew up all of our problems could be solved with the twitch of a nose or a blinking genie wearing a midriff.
As for our sports heroes — think Mickey Mantle, Wilt Chamberlain and Johnny Unitas — they became legends based solely on their athletic abilities with no additional “chemical enhancements” other than Wheaties or Yoo-Hoo. They were the real thing, and it didn’t cost our fathers a week’s pay to take us to see them play.
But it wasn’t just the simplicity of the times or the quality of the entertainment and sports figures that make being a boomer great. We pride ourselves on bringing about change. During the ’60s and ’70s, many boomers joined the protest generation. They marched, chanted and carried signs railing against war, prejudice and injustice and fought for peace, love and equality for all. The boomers embraced their parents’ dream of giving their children a better world and they ran with it, even if it meant rebelling against them to do so. Whether they were burning their draft cards or their bras, they put themselves on the line for what they believed in.
No matter how fondly we flash back on those happy days through our rose-colored granny glasses, growing up a boomer was not one big Fluffernutter and Fizzies party. There was the dark side of the boom.
The ’60s were buckshot with political assassinations, an escalating war in Vietnam and a divisive battle between the generations. The ’70s became a breeding ground for excessive drug abuse, a presidential resignation and — perhaps worst of all — leisure suits. And for the later boomers, the ’80s morphed into the ’70s-on-steroids decade, only with bigger hair and less streaking.
Somehow we survived it all and are now comfortably entrenched in the 21st century, striving to remain a vital force in the world and vigorously continuing down the winding road on our long, strange trip.
In retrospect, on the surface the boomers appear to be a frivolous lot living in a perpetual state of prolonged adolescence clinging to the things that connected them to their youth, like their classic rock music, silly television shows and weird fads. Perhaps our fixation with the past is what keeps us young at heart and inspires us to defy time and age so we can, as we used to say, “Keep on Truckin’.”
Sure, sometimes our actions were misguided, and we often lost our way taking dark roads of excess that lead to pain, ruin and some monstrously horrible fashions. But for a time, we stood together as one and discovered the power of unity — and for better or worse, changed the status quo.
And while some may argue with our generation’s grandiose view of itself, others will join us in saluting our cherished legacy with our ostentatious cry, “Say it loud: I’m a boomer and I’m proud!
Pat Sierchio is a freelance writer and co-writer/co-producer of the stage comedy “Boomermania: The Musical About the Baby Boomers.”
Jerry Leiber, who spoke Yiddish as his first language, was hounded by anti-Semites on the streets of Baltimore as a child, and became one of the creators of rock ‘n’ roll as half of the most celebrated songwriting duo of all time, died at 78 in Los Angeles.
Leiber died Monday at a hospital in Los Angeles of cardiopulmonary failure.
Leiber, the lyricist, and his partner, Mike Stoller “had few peers and no equals during rock ‘n’ roll’s first golden era,” Rolling Stone wrote in 1990. Hits of theirs such as “Hound Dog,” “Stand By Me,” “Jailhouse Rock,” and many others have been sung for decades by artists from Elvis Presley to the Beatles and scores of others since they began writing together in the early 1950s as high school students in Los Angeles.
Story continues after the jump
Leiber and Stoller “initiated mainstream white America into the sensual and spiritual intimacies of urban black culture that fueled the birth of rock ‘n’ roll. Their songwriting captured the essence and nuances of black music and language with a melodic invention, narrative ingenuity and cool hilarity that were true to the source while transcending it – heavy-duty R&B with a pop sensibility and lyric universality,” the magazine said.
Their role – along with those of many other Jews – in creating rock ‘n’ roll has been well documented in recent years. A 2009 essay in Tablet Magazine about Leiber and Stoller’s joint autobiography, “Hound Dog,” put it this way: “It was the early 1950’s and America was changing. Who would serve as the vanguard of this change? You would need people eager to embrace the new, able to serve as intermediaries linking black and white, high and low, sensitive enough to hear joy where others heard only squalor, clever enough to hear opportunity where others only heard noise, alive to the mordant humor of the ghetto, heedless of existing prejudices and conventions, enterprising enough to invent an industry where none had existed before. …You needed people who could operate at the bloody crossroads where commerce, art, and social change were converging. All of which is to say that you needed Jews.”
Extensive lists of Leiber and Stoller’s songs, many of which started out as “rhythm and blues” numbers for black performers such as Jimmy Witherspoon and Big Mama Thornton, can be found here and here. Music website Rate Your Music said of the two: “Perhaps no white songwriters have understood R&B better than these men. “
The oft-told story of how Leiber brought “Hound Dog” to imposing black female R&B artist Big Mama Thornton and how they felt Elvis Presley mangled the song, written for a woman telling off a man, can be found here.
Story continues after the jump
Leiber’s first language was Yiddish and was frequently taunted on the streets of Baltimore as a child. In a story he told in his autobiography, he was called “Jewboy” by a gang that knocked his Hebrew school books out of his hand: “One does not allow these holy books to touch the ground, and I was horrified at the idea.”
Leiber said he got his first taste of black music while working at his widowed mother’s grocery store in a poor Baltimore neighborhood, and joined it with his passion for the piano. At an early age, he said in “Hound Dog,” he was encouraged to play “boogie woogie” piano by a sexy Jewish piano teacher, but his uncle, who had offered him the piano and the lesson, slammed the cover down, nearly smashing his fingers.
Leiber told the Baltimore Sun in 1997 that: “The Jewish background is not that far from the black groove. Blacks are downtrodden, Jews are downtrodden; therefore, they have something in common in that affliction. Being downtrodden often makes one more empathetic and sympathetic.” He said traditional Jewish music shares many traits with rhythm and blues. “Listen to any cantor, any good hazan, sing and you can hear a little bit of Ray Charles going on.”
Once in Los Angeles as a teenager, Leiber worked at a record store that catered to “old Jews and hipsters like me” and that sold Frankie Laine, Mickey Katz and cantorial music. Record salesman Lester Sill of Modern Records turned him on to blues he had heard back in Baltimore, and he soon afterward met Stoller, a classically trained musician. Their rise was smooth, with many of their first efforts getting recorded and becoming R&B hits even while they were still in high school, which led them to Presley and many others, such as the Drifters, the Coasters, and Ben E. King.
In the early 1960s, they wrote for and produced hits by many girl groups, including the Dixie Cups and the Shangri-Las, but later grew away from pop mainstream to fare such as “Is That All There Is?” and then producing movies and theater, including a failed musical version of “The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz.”
Leiber & Stoller have been honored by the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, Songwriters Hall of Fame and many other music organizations.
“He was my friend, my buddy, my writing partner for 61 years,” Stoller told the Associated Press. “We met when we were 17 years old. He had a way with words. There was nobody better. I am going to miss him.”
On March 14 at the Cinerama Dome,
Elvis will return, one more time, in a special 40th anniversary screening
of the â€œSinger Presents Elvisâ€ special from 1968, or â€œThe Comeback Specialâ€ as
it is more popularly known, as the kickoff event of the Paley
Center for Mediaâ€™s PaleyFest 2008.
A panel discussion afterwards will feature Priscilla Presley, his widow; as
well as Steve Binder the producer and director of the special â€“ which is the
reason Iâ€™ll be attending the event.
special is far from Binderâ€™s greatest accomplishment. A complete list of his
film, TV, and record productions would dwarf this column but suffice to say
that when Entertainment Weekly listed â€œThe Top 100 Greatest Moments in
Television,â€ six were Binderâ€™s work.
So who is
Steve Binder (beyond being my friend Dana Sigoloffâ€™s Dad) and what why was â€œElvisâ€
so special that 40 years later people still regard it as one of the greatest
Television musical performances ever?
Binder is a
Los Angeles native. His father ran
a gas station downtown and Binder grew up in Carthay
Circle and recalls that when Disney premiered
Bambi, the Carthay Circle Theater had a live fawn penned outside that he would
pet. He attended Los
Angeles high and served in the Army. A friend told him
that working at a television studio was a good place to meet women, so he
applied for a job in the mailroom at KABC-TV, the local ABC station affiliate.
The mailroom led to the mimeograph department (remember mimeographs?), which in
turn led to being an Operations Director at KABC, which led to a summer stint
as a local director â€“ directing local programming as well as some of the local
Many of the non-fiction programs we
watch today, such as dancing competitions, singing shows, court shows, cooking
shows, originated as live local formats, providing Binder with invaluable
training. But the show he enjoyed most directing in those early days was â€œThe
Soupy Sales Show.â€ Who wouldnâ€™t like spending your working day convulsed in
show went national, however, Binder was fired in favor of a network approved
director. Binder quickly rebounded, hired to direct â€œJazz Scene, USAâ€
a Steve Allen produced half-hour program that featured a different single
artist in each episode, such as Nancy Wilson, Shorty Rogers, Lou Rawls, Joe
Pass, Cannonball Adderly, among
1962, Steve Allen got a late night five night a week syndicated show, â€œThe
Steve Allen Westinghouse Show,â€ and asked Binder to be his director. Jazz Scene
wasnâ€™t finished so Binder, somehow, directed both shows, prompting the LA Times
to remark that Binder â€œhas the hardest job in televisionâ€ and for Binder to
reply that his job is the easiest â€œbecause the show is such a delight to do.â€
became Binderâ€™s mentor and his graduate school in directing. Binder says that
Steve Allenâ€™s admonition to â€œnever stop shooting if anything funny or exciting
is happening on or off the stage,â€ became his mantra.
Binder was asked by showman Bill Sargent to produce and direct the West Coast
portion of a special for the NAACP, a â€œFreedom Spectacular,â€ which would be a
fundraiser and would be shown in movie theaters through a closed circuit
distribution network. The notion was to have two benefits produced, one on the
East Coast, one on the West, and show a two hour movie of both benefits as the
biggest closed circuit show in history.
assembled stars such as Burt Lancaster, Edward G. Robinson, Gene Kelly, Tony
Bennett, Nat King Cole, Bill Cosby (in one of his first filmed appearances), and
Benny Carter in a series of sketches, songs and readings that didnâ€™t lecture
but subtly addressed issues of race in America.
The show was an artistic success, but not a financial one and as far as I can
tell, was never subsequently released on TV, cable, or on DVD.
Sargent next approached Binder with the idea of filming a rock concert as a
benefit for a foundation that awarded music scholarships to talented teenagers.
This became the Teenage Music International show, or â€œThe T.A.M.I Show,â€ one of
the greatest rock and roll performance films of all times. Jack Nitzsche
recommended many of the acts and put together the house band which included
Glen Campbell and Leon Russell. Filmed at the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium,
this 1964 whoâ€™s who of artists included Chuck Berry, Marvin Gaye, Lesley Gore,
Jan & Dean, The Beach Boys, Smokey Robinson and the Miracles, The Supremes,
The Rolling Stones and James Brown and the Flames.
thereafter, Rock and Roll became network fare. ABC had â€œShindingâ€ so on January 12, 1965 CBS
launched â€œHullabooâ€ a Gary Smith production that Binder was asked to direct and
for which he moved to New York, filming the show in NBCâ€™s studio 8H in
Rockefeller Center (home to Saturday Live since 1975). Binder had been to LAâ€™s
Whisky a GoGo which featured women dancing in cages and imported the idea for
Hullaboo, which became itâ€™s signature feature along with performances by The
Byrds, The Animals, Judy Collins, Simon & Garfunkel, Sonny & Cher, and
a young English singer Petula Clark.
took on a variety of TV assignments. Directing the Danny Kaye show was a
nightmare; a Lucille Ball special flopped, and when offered a chance to direct
an episode of a sit-com rather than scoffing, Binder accepted, leading to directing two episodes ofâ€œGilliganâ€™s Island,â€ â€œDonâ€™t
bug the Mosquitoes,â€ and â€œThe Second Ginger Grant.â€
enjoyed directing the episodes, Binder observed that in sitcoms the director
was not the name people remembered. Binder had stumbled into Television and
directing almost by chance and although he had found a talent, and even a
passion for making television events memorable, he now had to ask himself: What
sort of a career did he want to have?
Binder had a realization: If he
wanted to control his destiny, he would need to produce and direct unique
programs for unique talent, or as he put it â€œtailor-made musical specials for
individual stars.â€ That insight led to some of televisionsâ€™ most memorable
moments, and of course, to Elvis.
we get to â€œThe King,â€ it is worth mentioning the special that got Binder the
job, a show in many ways more historic and precedent setting, â€œPetula.â€
Petula Clark was a blonde,
pixie-ish British singer, who had a #1 hit worldwide, called â€œDowntownâ€ (it was
the first single record that I asked my parents to buy for me). NBC had made a
deal with Plymouth and their
advertising agency, Young & Rubicam, for a special to star Nancy Sinatra.When Sinatra dropped out, Clark
was in. Only problem was Clark had not yet agreed to do
Binder who had barely met her on
Hullaboo, got the assignment of both convincing her, and then producing and
directing the show. Once on board, Binder decided to pair her with a guest star
and convinced Harry Belafonte to sign on. Some Plymouth executives objected â€“ but Binder insisted.
Although it was 1968, manufacturers
and advertisers were anxious about a white woman and a black man appearing in a
national Television program together. I know it sounds crazy and
hard-to-believe, but there was a moment in the show, unscripted, when Petula
Clark touches Harry Belafonteâ€™s arm â€“ â€œthe touchâ€ Binder calls it, that was
taken to be of such historic importance to race relations in America
that Newsweek sent over a photographer and the New York Times and others ran
articles about it. In spite of this (and perhaps because of it), the show was a
success. And that led to Binder receiving a call to meet â€œThe Colonel.â€
Bob Finkel told Binder that NBCâ€™s Tom Sarnoff had struck a deal with Colonel
Tom Parker, Elvisâ€™ manager to do a TV special but Elvis was reluctant to return
to TV.Finkel felt Elvis and Binder
would hit it off, and that, based on Binderâ€™s experience on the Petula special,
Binder would be able to stand up to the Colonel. Binder was not an Elvis fan,
but his partner Bones Howe, a successful music producer said he would be crazy
not to meet him.
successful meeting with Finkel, Binder and his partner Howe went to meet
Colonel Tom Parker at his offices on the MGM
lot (what is today the Sony lot in Culver City).
The Colonel dominated the whole meeting, telling grotesque stories from his
carny circus roots and bragging about his deal-making business acumen (Binder
was repulsed by the former and unconvinced as to the latter). Parker ended the
meeting by handing Binder an Elvis gift box with his outline for an Elvis
Christmas special. Binder thanked him but had no intention of doing a Christmas
special (although in the end, Elvis did perform â€œBlue Christmasâ€ as part of the
meeting with Elvis took place, Binder recalls, on May 10, 1968, at the Binder-Howe offices on
Sunset Boulevard (next to the old Tower Records store). Elvis arrived on time
with his entourage of four friends, who sat in the waiting room as Elvis met
with Binder, Howe and Alan Blye and Chris Bearde who would write the special.
concerned because he had not appeared in front of a live audience in years and
the few times he had appeared on TV, such as on Steve Allen or Milton Berleâ€™s
show, he had been made fun of. It was only the controversy surrounding his
appearance on â€œThe Ed Sullivan Showâ€ that had served his career well. Binder reassured
Elvis telling him that if they worked together â€œHe could focus on making
records while I would put pictures to his music.â€ Elvis signed on.
rehearsals took place at the Binder-Howe offices. One day Binder saw Elvis
looking out at Sunset Boulevard â€“ and in what is now a legendary Elvis story â€“
Binder asked Elvis what he thought would happen if he walked out on Sunset by
himself.Elvis asked Binder what he
thought would happen. Binder thought about it, and said: â€œNothing.â€ A few days
later, Elvis turned to him in the office and said, â€œLetâ€™s go.â€
been made of what happened next â€“ Elvis stood with Binder on the street in
front of the office building, at first tentative, then surprised that no one
recognized him, then somewhat disappointed that no one recognized him, and then
finally, uncomfortable. Elvis retreated back to the offices.
was recorded at NBCâ€™s Burbank
studio #4. Elvis was so impressed with the dressing room suites there that he
decided to live at the studio during the recording, asking that an upright
piano be brought into his suite.
noticed that Elvis and his musicians would hang out in the suiteâ€™s living room,
before and after rehearsals, joking around, playing songs, talking about old
times. Binder realized that this is where Elvis was most comfortable, and that
the public had never seen this side of him. Binder decided that he wanted to
film these â€œjam sessionsâ€, and after consultation with The Colonel, they
decided to recreate that feeling by having Elvis and his original band members
(who at first were not part of the special) seated in a circle on chairs on a
small stage, surrounded by an audience. The special itself used these
performances sparingly, but to great effect. (Over the years those
â€œimprovisationsâ€ have taken on a life of their own, as reassembled into a
separate special aired by HBO, â€œOne Night With Elvisâ€).
the Elvis special recently in my office, I was struck by how good it was.
Opening on Elvisâ€™ face and then pulling back to reveal him on the large stage
with the Elvis imitators in silhouette behind him and then the giant ELVIS lit
up in lights still works. As do the scenes of Elvis by himself on the small
stage as well as Elvis jamming and fooling around with his bandmates. The use of extreme closeups, a technique Binder pioneered on the T.A.M.I. show, give “Elvis” a great intimacy. Only some
of the choreographed dance sequences feel dated or out of place. But it is the
vitality of Elvis, his sense of humor, his charisma, his sex appeal, and his
connection to his music and his love of performing that come through in an
indelible fashion. No one who sees the â€œElvisâ€ special can doubt his appeal or
The special aired on December 3, 1968, and
captured 42 percent of the entire viewing audience. It was NBCâ€™s biggest ratings
victory for the entire year and the seasonâ€™s #1 top rated show. However, after
the show aired, Binder never really spoke to Elvis again (he believes that was The Colonelâ€™s doing).
For the Elvis special Binder was paid a contractual one time payment of $32,000
for producing and directing that included the first two re-runs of the special;
and a $3500 payment for each of the third and fourth re-runs. That was it. No DVD
or ancillary rights (they didnâ€™t exist). And certainly no â€œartistic rights of
controlâ€: every re-edit or re-release of the â€œElvisâ€ show since, in regular and
â€œdeluxeâ€ editions, including the HBO special, and whatever will be screened at
the Cinerama dome, were done without consulting Binder (or paying him a penny
Nonetheless, Binder recalls â€œElvisâ€
believes that during the making of the special, Elvis reconnected to making
music he believed in. Elvis told Binder he had found his â€œfreedomâ€ â€“ the ability
be himself again. But that freedom was short lived.
special a galvanized Elvis recorded such hits as â€œSuspicious Minds,â€ â€œIn the
Ghettoâ€ and â€œKentucky Rainâ€. He also appeared for several record breaking
concert performances in Las Vegas
before embarking on a national tour.
Binder saw Elvis perform then,
saying â€œhe was fantastic.â€ However, a year later, he saw Elvis perform again
and found that he had lost his spark and was bored. (neither time did he go
backstage to see Elvis). â€œI knew then,â€ Binder said, â€œthat it was over.â€
Over the next several years, Presley
did several other filmed performances including â€œElvis: Thatâ€™s the Way It isâ€
(1970) and â€œElvis on Tourâ€ (1972) and the satellite broadcast of â€œAloha from Hawaiiâ€
(1973), said to reach a reported billion viewers and which kept the showâ€™s
album on the charts for a year. But none ever achieved the legenday status of
â€œThe Comeback Specialâ€ he did with Binder. In his last Vegas performances, an
overweight Elvis became a parody of himself, a Liberace-like performer who
turned his back to his audience and increasingly found it hard to finish a
show, or a song for that matter.
On August 16, 1977, Elvis was found dead in his Memphis
home, Graceland, the victim of a heart attack, his
health having been compromised by drug abuse. He was 42.
the Elvis special was but one landmark in a career that continued to expand and
unfold. Binder went on to direct many, many, many more specials for a wide
variety of stars including (to name but a very few) Barry Manilow, Diana Ross
(including the memorable â€œDiana Ross in Central Park,â€) Patti Labelle, â€œDivas
2000â€ for VH-1 (featuring Ross, Donna Summer, Mariah Carey, Faith Hill,
Beyonce), events such as the half-time show at the 1996 Superbowl and many
years of Disney Ice Skating specials, films such as â€œGive â€˜Em Hell, Harryâ€ (for
which James Whitmore was nominated for best actor), and was involved in the
careers of many recoding artists, among them Seals & Croft. He is currently
managing the career of Italian singing star Nicola Congiu. Heâ€™s won Emmys,
Cable Ace Awards and the Directorâ€™s Guild Diversity Award among many others.
Binder, for one, certainly never
imagined that 40 years later audiences would still be gathering to watch the
keep coming back to the â€œElvisâ€ special. I think I know why:
â€œThe Comeback Specialâ€ presents
Elvis at a juncture: his past, his potential, his talent â€“ and the intimation
of the tragic path he would unfortunately choose.
In the special
it is all up there on the screen: The softness in his face that made him look
boyish, the full lips that look almost feminine (and that would appear so
strongly in the face of his daughter Lisa Marie). There he was in black
leather, with his animal grace, and his magnetism â€“ his sex appeal as much at
his command as his laugh. His self-deprecating humor, and the easy familiarity
with which he kidded around. You see the way he responds to the audience, and
the audience responds to him. You see Elvis, in full command of his talent and
power, â€œThe Kingâ€ with the potential to remain one of the greatest rock and
roll entertainers of all time.
At the same
time, the show contains all the foreshadowing of what was to come. The face
that would bloat, the distracted manner of starting a song and not finishing
it, stopping to break into a joke, not taking his talent or his songs
seriously, changing the lyrics as a goof, wiping the sweat off his brow with a
handkerchief for a woman in the audience, the large production numbers, the
faked emotion, all the signs of his impending tragedy are present.
the show has remained memorable. Because we catch Elvis at the crossroads. He
has emerged on Sunset Boulevard, and he has a choice, to embrace his music and
his audience, or to retreat into the â€œElvisâ€ cocoon.
career has been one of granting the audience memorable performances by singular
talents. However, in Elvis, he caught a legendary artist at the intersection of
his talent and his destiny, at a crossroads to which he would never return.
He’s appeared in numerous wedding photos. He’s performed around the world, from divey bars to swanky casinos. He’s even parachuted onto the Vegas Strip.
Now prepare for Elvis to attempt his most outrageous and exotic performance yet — lighting the Chanukah candles.
Jelvis, the Jewish Elvis, will appear at Los Angeles’ Genghis Cohen for the last night of the restaurant’s Chanukah celebration.
Beneath the Elvis wig and costume is what you might expect — a Jew from New York. Also known as Willard Morgan, this showman began his career as a stand-up comedian when he was 26 and still continues to perform on both coasts.
“Jelvis is just one of my characters,” said 40-something Morgan, who admits that he started his professional Elvis career 10 years ago, when experimenting with different impressions.
When Elvis died in 1977, there were less than 200 imitators. Today, there are nearly 100,000 Elvis impersonators around the world, reflecting the different looks the singer sported from the 1950s to the 1970s. This pop culture phenomenon has been portrayed in such films as “3000 Miles to Graceland” and “Honeymoon in Vegas” and has spawned a variety of interpretations, including the Chinese Chelvis, the Mexican El Vez or the lesbian Elvis Herselvis.
Jews impersonating Elvis is nothing new. Andy Kaufman was one of the first to gain national exposure for his Elvis act while “The King” was still alive. It’s said Kaufman’s act was Elvis’ favorite. We also have Shmelvis, Elvis Smelvis and Neil Diamond.
So do we really need a Jelvis?
Morgan seems to think so.
“It’s just part of my crusade, finding that when I put on the suit with the Jewish star … people love the iconic image of Elvis … and that when I see a Japanese Elvis or a Mexican Elvis, I can see that the spirit of the man crossed racial and religious barriers,” Morgan said.
Bridging the gap between rhythm and Jews, Jelvis’ songs include “Don’t Step on My Blue Suede Yarmulke,” “Little Schicksa’s” and “Heartburn Hotel.” And because his work lies more in Jewish interpretation than impersonation, Morgan explains that he is more of an Elvis interpreter than an Elvis impersonator.
Morgan said that when you assume the character of Elvis, you are totally put at ease due to The King’s charismatic and nonchalant nature. Perhaps a white, sequined jumpsuit might be the perfect treatment to combat Jewish neuroses.
And with all the great musically centered Kabbalat Shabbat services, Morgan said he would be intrigued by the idea of an Elvis-style Friday night service but said he would feel more comfortable doing cantorial work.
A Jewish Elvis service might be a stretch, but Jelvis, like many other Elvises around the world, has been ordained by The Universal Life Church and has conducted services for renewing wedding vows. “But it’d be great to do an Elvis Jewish wedding, too,” Morgan added.
Despite so much competition from other Elvis “tribute artists,” as many Elvis performers prefer to be called, Jelvis said there’s plenty of room for others. Maybe inadvertently borrowing line from a Mojo Nixon song, he says, “Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, Jew: You all have a little Elvis in you!”