Years Later, Still Stuck on Elvis : * Pop: As the 14th anniversary of his death nears, fascination with Presley is still very much alive, as his many impersonators--including one at the Crazy Horse--prove.

Perhaps you’ve seen this week’s Weekly World News, the tabloid with the cover photo of a purported and portly Elvis Presley outside a St. Louis movie house, perhaps deciding between the listed films of “Silence of the Lambs,” Madonna’s “Truth or Dare” and “Kiddie Show: Yogi Bear.”

Recently, he also was reported giving the keys to an ’88 Fleetwood to a Corpus Cristi waitress. Then, of course, there’s that mountainous likeness of Elvis’ face on Mars, which has sent our best scientific minds scurrying for copies of “Clambake.” Elvis sometimes peers out of the windows of the White House. He’s been sighted floating around the Gulf Stream with Flipper. And don’t even dare looking in the butter compartment of your fridge.

As much as Elvis was a success in life, he sure is a failure at being dead. He’s been seen up and around in public more since he died on Aug. 16, 1977, than when he was actually among us.

For those who don’t want to wait for the day when they’ll personally spot Elvis--I’m putting off buying a new car in the hopes of being given a Fleetwood--there are the Elvis impersonators: thousands of ‘em, of all races and persuasions. There are so many that if they voted in a bloc they could swing national elections. If Elvis truly were alive, he’d probably be on the run, since scads of pretenders to his throne have a vested interest in his being out of the picture.

Boy, it’s fun to make fun of Elvis. Fat Elvis. “Little Elvis.” Pilled Elvis. Dead Elvis. Ersatz Elvises.

America was disgusted with Albert Goldman’s sleazoid book on Elvis. They bought the book in droves just so they could be disgusted. There’s the axiom that people always like to see the mighty fall, their heroes broken and revealed to be flesh. But part of all the cheap humor surrounding Elvis’ fall has to be that it is a shield for facing just how very, very sad it is.

William Carlos Williams wrote, “The pure products of America go crazy,” and that line has been used in reference to Elvis. He and the rock era he ushered in originally spoke with the wildness, freedom and innovation that are this country’s greatest qualities. Those also happen to be qualities that societies excel at twisting and crushing. The dollar, Col. Parker, the Army and Hollywood made sure that Elvis was lifeless and canned long before he died.

When people remember Elvis today, it is usually the Vegas-era image. That certainly is the model for the Elvis impersonator, in part probably because his style already was so exaggerated it lent itself to easy caricature: the stuffed, sequined jumpsuit, the karate poses, the sideburns and black, crow’s-wing hair.

But, far deeper, perhaps the appeal of the Vegas Elvis is that he represents, in almost Kabuki-like spectacle, the far-too-common struggle of a true spirit trying to emerge from under a crushing weight. Samson, after all, isn’t remembered in his glory, but as a broken, deceived man who uses his chains to bring the palace down.

While “Vegas Elvis” these days serves as a critic’s shorthand to describe a overblown and moribund performance, it’s sometimes forgotten that even in his shows in Vegas’ garish palaces he could still surprise and overwhelm (as noted by his longtime guitarist James Burton in today’s O.C. LIVE!). And, oddly enough, even a surrogate Elvis can have a sense of life to him. Elvis impersonator Ron Stein managed to work more immediacy into his “Memories of Elvis” performance Tuesday at the Crazy Horse Steak House than a lot of bands doing original material can muster.

Like most demi-Elvises, Stein sounds just like the King in certain spots. Usually their evocation of Elvis’ deep baritone sounds more like Bert Lahr’s Cowardly Lion, and Stein too falls far short of the real thing’s low-register majesty. Also lacking was the tear-it-up edge Elvis brought to his more uproarious rockers. But, then, if just anyone could sing like that, Elvis wouldn’t have been Elvis.

There were some songs, particularly as he built momentum in the show, that Stein came pretty close to nailing: a rocking “Viva Las Vegas” and the Elvis showpieces “Suspicious Minds,” “In the Ghetto” and “The Wonder of You.”

Stein looks reasonably like Elvis, and certainly more when he’s sporting the trademark hair, sideburns and a clown-lapel jumpsuit and belt adorned with enough jewelry to scrape the back right off a guitar.

His best external asset, by far, was his band, a hot-burning 14-piece outfit (plus a retainer to keep him equipped with scarves) that was especially bolstered by guitarist Brian Lonbeck’s blistering leads in the James Burton style. More than the mimicry, Stein’s intent seemed to be in the right place. While not note-perfect, the performances seemed sincere, and he and the band allowed the music to take place in real time, letting it breathe and change a bit.

Unlike many Elvis droids, Stein didn’t try to confuse himself with the real thing. He was himself between songs, rather than drawling “I” when he meant Elvis. Many in the audience, though, were willing to treat him like the genuine article. Throughout the 28-song show, dozens of women enthusiastically approached the stage to get a kiss and a scarf from Stein. In one comic moment, he had ladies reaching from two sides to get one scarf.

And what is it that makes a woman apply for a kiss ‘n’ scarf from a sweaty Elvis impersonator?

“It’s the closest I’m ever going to get to seeing Elvis,” said Wanda Seieroe of La Habra. “I’m a fan of Elvis and Ron. He’s wonderful.”

Echoed Gail Bosch of Placentia: “I never saw Elvis, This is the next best thing, I guess. And he has sex appeal. I wanted to kiss him. It’s my first scarf. I’ll sleep with it.”

Speaking after the show, Stein acknowledged that the Elvis impersonator’s life can be a strange one.

“The weird part is when you’re offstage,” he said, “That’s the toughest part. I can’t go shave my sideburns off--I have to do another show in three days. But if I’m going to Disneyland or something, I’ll wear a hat and won’t shave for two days. And even then people come up to you.”

Stein’s wife, Renee, who sews his outfits, said, “I won’t go shopping with him, or anywhere. You walk through the mall and people are going ‘a-hunka-hunka burnin’ love.’ No matter where you go, you hear people whispering ‘Elvis.’ ”

Relaxing in his encrusted white jumpsuit, Stein said, “I’m doing a show about Elvis, and I love Elvis dearly and it’s a compliment to me that people say I look like Elvis. Doing this show is nothing that I’m ashamed of. But it’s the truth that you’re the butt of all jokes.”

The 40-year-old Alta Loma resident saw Elvis perform about 30 times, from San Diego to Tahoe. He’s had the sideburns ever since he was able to grow them. He never sang in public, he said, before he was at a party in 1971 when a band struck up an Elvis bass line and he felt moved to sing. The party crowd liked it and, he said, one thing led to another.

He has appeared on “The Tonight Show” twice and has been in such TV shows and films as “Married With Children” and “Roadhouse.” He primarily works the West Coast now, but plans to start touring globally.

The going gets weird sometimes when the visage of Elvis is put before audiences of 8,000 and more at fairs and festivals.

“They sometimes go crazy,” Stein said. “You put a scarf down there, and I don’t mean this in the wrong vein at all, but it’s like throwing meat to sharks ! There’ve been fights that broke out, screaming.

“My wife made a cape for one of my suits and I got in this weird mood, where I thought, ‘Gosh, Elvis used to do this,’ and there were about 10,000 people there, so I ripped the cape off and threw it into the audience. It was absolute chaos, pandemonium. It took 15 cops on horseback to get me out of there. And then I had to fight my wife for two days for throwing something away she’d spent a week making. To me, it’s weird the way people react. I love it, but it’s weird.”

Stein does have some worries that the performance might consume him:

“You can use the word ‘trap,’ or ‘gimmick,’ I suppose. I hear people say, ‘Elvis! Elvis!’ And, hey, my name is Ron Stein. I’m doing a show about Elvis, guys. I have a very hard time with that. I don’t know how much stigma there is to that, or how long you can get caught up in that trap. I’d like to start doing some of my own material.

“But I’ll continue doing these shows as long as people want to see them and as long as I’m able. There’s a lot of kids and other people who didn’t get to see Elvis, and I hope maybe they’ll get an idea of what Elvis was like through my show.”