Thursday, April 13, 2000

I saw Elvis and he talked to me.

As he was leaving the stage, Elvis looked me right in the eye and said, "Thank You very much."

I know he was talking to me and nobody else. We’re soul brothers from the 50s.

It was Friday night at Trader’s Exchange in downtown Austin.

Nathan Davidson and The Lost Faculties Band were playing. Bobbie Jo Vogel was late, so there was an empty space on the stage between the band’s leader, Davidson, and the lead guitarist.

Elvis filled it.

Mark Snater was behind the bar. George Thomas, too.

When Elvis started singing "That’s All Right Mama," everybody stopped what they were doing and time stood still.

He even had the moves down perfectly. Karate chops, kicks and all.

You say you don’t believe me? Just ask Jerry and Suzanne Fell. They were there. The retired Austin Public Schools teacher and his wife can verify the Elvis sighting.

Of course, my female companion that night – name withheld pending apology from Yours Truly for an inadvertent kick during a particularly spirited version of "Hound Dog" – could also verify Elvis was there.

He came, he sang, he went. Attention Elvis: call the Herald! I gotta talk to you before the National Enquirer does.

I should have known something special was going to happen that night, when I didn’t close the car door on my date. I always take that as a good sign for my infrequent nightlife sojourns.

Another good sign awaited when we got to Trader’s Exchange, formerly the Park Plaza: there were no Mower County employees acting crazy. I guess they only do that at Bobee Jo’s on Friday karoke night.

There was, however, Mr. Bill, who had several swell ideas, including a multi-million feedlot project, suing Mower County and running for governor.

I’m telling you: you meet the darndest people in a bar on a Friday night in Austin.

Naturally, I told Mr. Bill to run for Austin City Council and then he could get his business development ideas to work.

When the music started again, Yours Truly and friend went to the dance floor and I defied the laws of physics, moral turpitude and common sense and danced.

My son, who is visiting me and has mistaken my house for a Holiday Inn does not approve that his father dances in public where I will be recognized and says I should stick to street dances in small towns far away from Austin.

The nerve of that kid.

I don’t remember much of what happened the rest of the night. Elvis zapped me good. He left early. Probably on his way to another gig and everybody gave him a standing ovation.

I dodged Mr. Bill – I could tell he had another swell idea – on the way out of the bar and left with my companion, humming an Elvis tune. "Blue Suede Shoes," I think it was.

When I dropped my date off at her home and returned to mine, I was so excited I woke up my son and told him "I saw Elvis!"

"Go to bed," he said.

·

Awwright, awwright. Enough is enough. No more cards, letters or phone calls. It was only third place. The Mayor of Austin sent me a cute note and cut out the story out of the paper about winning an Associated Press award, but, let’s face it, everybody knows, she just wanted to see her name in print, when I wrote about that. I appreciate the gestures, Good People. Rest assured: it will not change me. I will remain the same humble journalist you’ve come to know and mistrust. Thank You.

Lee Bonorden’s column appears Thursdays