by Denise Trowbridge, The Wolf Magazine, September 2000

Old Mr. Louis sits in his wheelchair, a creased, gray man against bright blue wallpaper. Today isn't just any day for him. Excited chatter fills the hallways of the Lacombe Nursing Home in Lacombe, La., and all the folks inside fidget with anticipation. Some have gathered in the foyer just past the cafeteria, hoping to get a glimpse of royalty.

Mr. Louis pipes up: "Elvis is late."

A squat nursing assistant in pink and green floral scrubs and 1970s-style plastic-framed glasses jokes, "Ya waitin for Elvis? Honey, I'll put on a show right now I'll be singin' me some 'Heartbreak Hotel.'"

None of the residents seem to care that Elvis has been dead for 23 years, because he's coming to see them today. And he arrives in typical Elvis style. "Zarathustra" blares on two Peavey speakers. The electronic drums beat wildly. Finally, clad in a black jumpsuit covered in gold-sequined fleur-de-lis, Elvis jumps onto the scene.

The crowd is silent.

Elvis launches into the first verse of "Proud Mary," inspiring Ms. Ann, a vibrant 80-something, to shout, "He's beautiful! Whata man!" as if she were a giddy teen-ager. Elvis serenades every woman in the audience during his song-for-song recreation of the 1973 Live at Madison Square Garden concert. A roar of applause signals the end of the show, with a hysterical Ms. Ann adding, "Go Elvis! Hallelujah!" to the sea of claps and howls.

He's got the moves. He's got the jokes, the mannerisms, the hair, even the signature kenpo karate chop at the end of "Glory Hallelujah." And everybody loves him. But he's not Elvis exactly — he's Michael Allsure.

Some people think of Elvis as the young, hip-shakin' rebel in the gold lame blazer who made Ed Sullivan blush and thousands of young women go mad in a Dionysian frenzy Others only remember the deceased, drug-addicted superstar found face down on a red shag rug in front of his toilet. The rest just think Elvis is campy. But to 41-year-old New Orleans resident Allsure, Elvis is no laughing matter.

"There is no joke about it. I make my living impersonating Elvis. Its a business, and I take it damn seriously." So seriously in fact, that Allsure has spent countless hours trying to embody the essence of Elvis. He's studied videos of the King's live performances, mastering every mannerism, intonation and lip curl. He mercilessly critiques videotapes of his own live performances, trying to get it all just right.

"People really have no idea how much goes into a good show. It takes energy, dedication, time and practice."

Allsure has performed nonstop since the 1970s. He was once head Elvis on the Vegas strip, where he completed 2,500 shows at venues such as the Hilton Hotel and Caesars Palace. In New Orleans, he's appeared with Irma Thomas, Ernie K-Doe, Bill Haley and the Comets and K.C. and the Sunshine Band. His velvet crooning landed him television spots on "Nightline" and "The Angela Hill Show," as well as movie roles in A Lesson Before Dying and the French film Madam-Consul. He even sang the national anthem for the 1997 Tulane/Memphis football game at the Superdome.

But the grand life of an Elvis impersonator sprang from humble, almost accidental beginnings. Allsure entered the business as a teenager, playing gigs at fraternity houses to make ends meet. When people started telling him he sounded like Elvis, his curiosity was piqued. "I had a couple of friends who were impersonators, and they said they made between 150 and 200 grand a year impersonating Elvis. I knew I'd never make that kind of money in a regular band unless I made it really big, and very few ever do. So we incorporated an Elvis tribute into the show and went on the road. The tribute really took off, so I've been doing it ever since."

The haircut followed; the jumpsuits soon afterward. "Bobby Darin's hairdresser gave me 'the look' and the haircut I still have today. I've got four jumpsuits. A lady down South makes them for me. I spend a fortune just on the appliques."

With all the movie roles, television appearances and fast living on the lime-lit stage of the Vegas strip, Allsure admits that Elvis impersonation is a roller coaster ride. On the up side, he's been around the world several times, toured in Europe and Japan and had a fair degree of success on his own terms. And the fringe benefits are excellent. "I get to stay at the best hotels, eat at the best restaurants, drink free booze, and at the end of the week, I get a check. People always want to be your friend and do things for you, like take you out on their yacht."

Allsure's had good luck on stage, too. At a neurosurgeons convention years ago, he drew a larger crowd than The Temptations, who had top billing in the grand ballroom across the hall. "We were supposed to play at the same time, so no one was in the room when we started. It was tough, but by the middle of the show we had people leaving The Temptations to come see us. Now that felt good."

But as with any musical career, the downs are ever present. "I've gone from playing to 35,000 in the Superdome one day to playing in a bar where I have to get dressed in the beer cooler the next."

Once, he had to change in the bathroom of an abandoned building next to the bar where he was performing. The Elvis life is a bit unpredictable. "My friends think I'm a lunatic. Look at the way I have to walk around all day. People don't know how to approach me at the grocery store or when I'm out running errands. They know I'm special, but they just don't know how deep the Elvis thing really runs."

Unlike bewildered shoppers who might mistake his trip to the store for an authentic Elvis sighting, Michael doesn't confuse his stage show with real life. "When I'm offstage, I'm me. I'm a normal guy with normal clothes, but when I'm on stage, I am Elvis."

Other impersonators, such as El Vez, the Mexican Elvis, don't help Michael get the respect he feels he deserves, either. "Campy impersonators make it hard when you're doing the real thing. The stereotypes make it hard. Everybody knows Elvis. There's always a roofer or mechanic down the street who does Elvis at a karaoke bar or at a friends wedding, but no one can do what I do. No one else offers what I can. I do the real Elvis stage show. I have a full band with an entertaining and professional tribute show, and I have something for everyone."

He has something for the Lacombe Nursing Home residents, too, even if it's only a smile and a show to shake up the daily routine. Just like Elvis, Allsure integrates volunteer and community service work into his repertoire, frequently performing at nursing homes and charity benefits. Last year he raised more than $250,000 for the Associated Catholic Charities as well as money for the American Cancer Society, the Easter Seals and Goodwill. "I'm very involved in the community. I am a blessed person, and I like to give back."

Past success aside, Allsure's got his eyes on the future. "I can't do Elvis forever. He died when he was middle-aged, you know."

He spends most of his time maintaining his entertainment company, Vegas Gold, which also stages tributes to the Blues Brothers, Roy Orbison, Patsy Cline and Tom Jones. Allsure has also recorded an original song entitled "Baby, I Miss You" and is working on a hush-hush show he likes to call "Elvis 2000."

"I'm thinking Broadway but I don't want to tell anyone about it because it's such a good idea."

Although he considers himself a shrewd businessman, Allsure believes at heart that Elvis impersonation boils down to one thing: making people smile and have a good time. If he achieves that, he feels like a success. "I want people to walk away from my show feeling like they were actually experiencing Elvis. I want them to be nostalgic and, even if it's only for a second, forget about their problems."