This Elvis-Biker Stars in a Tale of 2 Cities

Paul Casey is involved in the sale of two cities; he’s a civic pitchman who cycles between rockin’ sequins and rollin’ chrome.

For the Las Vegas Convention and Visitors Authority he glimmers in the white-jumpsuit splendor of Vegas Elvis, traveling the world as an official ambassador for Sin City. For Palm Springs he rumbles on a Harley-Davidson, producing an event that each year brings thousands of leather-clad bikers to this capital of Bermuda shorts.

Either way, Casey has swapped the staid suits of his former career as a lawyer for more creative ensembles.

He makes a six-figure income. He has his own fan club. He rides a $50,000 bike named Hound Dog. Not bad for a guy whose big break was winning “The Gong Show.”

“There are perks to being ‘The King,’ ” Casey said, forming the quote marks with his fingers. “It’s a lot more fun than being a lawyer.”

On a recent day so muggy that his long sideburns were growing frizzy, Casey was holding court at Karaoke Jo’s, a locals hangout in Palm Springs. He had just returned from a world tour, during which trembling, middle-aged women in Geneva threw flowers onstage and in Japan they called him Elvis-san.

He’s not a dead ringer, although his bow lips are Presleyan and his hazel (not violet) eyes are appropriately heavy-lidded. His long hair was pulled back in a ponytail--not exactly Elvis-like.

But when he took to the stage to sing in a rich voice with a Southern-fried drawl, a woman at the bar closed her eyes in what looked like a hormonal surge of pleasure.

Casey stretched out an arm, bent a knee and gave a pelvic thrust, and three tables full of women screeched. Casey is used to it.

On a Disney cruise ship, a woman slipped off her lace bra and flung it at him. Her husband claimed the errant undergarment afterward; it was a G-rated ship, after all, and Paul Casey isn’t really Elvis--a point he tries to keep firmly in mind.

“Paul’s respectful of the music. He communicates what Elvis was. He does not think he’s Elvis. He doesn’t talk to Elvis. But he can take you back there,” said Mary Aiello, a 53-year-old Canoga Park middle school teacher who has willed Casey her collection of Elvis memorabilia, including a pair of Elvis’ pajamas.

Casey said he thinks of it as an acting job. But he admitted that sometimes, when the lights are on and the flowers are flying, even he has a few seconds of suspended disbelief.

“Sometimes, I get taken into that world for a freaky few moments,” he said.

Raised in La Crescenta, Casey began impersonating Elvis professionally at age 18. His mother, Jobyna, a bridal shop owner, beams as she tells how Paul’s first costume was cut and elaborately beaded by her pattern makers.

“My husband doesn’t really like the idea of Paul being an Elvis impersonator,” she said. “You see, Paul’s father is a five-time Idaho state champion in classical singing and he thinks Paul should take his own music more seriously.

“But I’m a ‘50s momma. Even when I was pregnant with Paul I was rocking and rolling.”

Casey does write songs of his own. “Oh, they’re beautiful,” said Jobyna. “But no one screams the way they do when he’s Elvis.”

After he ditched criminal and malpractice law, Casey’s career included headlining in the famed “Legends in Concert” show on the Las Vegas Strip, a profile in People magazine and a part in “Honeymoon in Vegas”--the largest collection of Elvis cameos on celluloid. Then he landed the Elvis ambassadorship.

There are about six Elvises in rotation for the Las Vegas Convention and Visitors Authority at any given time. But Jim Lauster, sales executive for the authority, said he always requests Casey “when ordering an Elvis.”

“Every time I go to a grocery store I bump into Elvis impersonators,” said Lauster, who obviously lives in Las Vegas. “But here’s the difference: They’re just look-alikes, but Paul’s really captured the voice, the moves. He’s committed to creating the integrity of the character. He doesn’t allow Elvis to be demeaned.”

Still, Casey is a man torn between desert resorts. To promote Las Vegas, he drawls, poses and wriggles. But Palm Springs is where his heart is.

“Even Elvis lived here, y’know--not Las Vegas,” he points out. “And Palm Springs is supposed to be a resort town. All the time I’m watching the money pour into Vegas, I’m thinking, ‘Why don’t we have entertainment here?’

“Then I went on one of those Harley rides, and the guys riding those bikes were dropping dough big time. I thought, ‘Why not bring them to Palm Springs?’ ”

The 3-year-old Palm Springs Bike Weekend (the flier shows a bearded man astride a Harley parked on a golf course with palm trees in the background) drew 2,500 bikers last year and is the fastest-growing motorcycle run on the West Coast.

By comparison, the granddaddy of bike runs in Hollister, Calif., draws 50,000. The Palm Springs event is set for Oct. 14-17.

The first year, there was Elvis crossover. Vendors were invited to “Breakfast With the King.” But lately Casey’s been drawing a stricter line between Paul Casey and Paul-Casey-sings-Elvis. Maybe it’s those warnings from his father that “you can’t be doing Elvis when you’re 60.”

Or maybe it’s that he’s considering running for mayor of Palm Springs. He’s frustrated over road construction in the downtown area, and notes that the late Sonny Bono made his bid for that office after he became frustrated over the city’s sign ordinances.

“I don’t know what the future holds,” Casey said. “But I can picture public office.”

Whatever happens, he added, “The one thing I do know for sure is that I would never be a fat or an old Elvis. That would be disrespectful.”