In Vegas, Elvis has yet to leave the building

Angie Wagner

Saturday, Jan. 6, 2001 | 3:04 a.m.

The white jumpsuit with its gaudy jewels is unzipped to reveal just the right amount of bare chest. Hairstyle - slick, black and out of date. Then those unmistakable sideburns. Perfect.

It's showtime for Ron DeCar.

"Do you both agree to adopt each other's hound dogs, not to wear your blue suede shoes in the rain, to always be each other's teddy bear and to never have a blue Christmas without one another?"

A few songs later, Jason Sealock and Rashell McCann are married, by the King of Rock 'n' Roll no less.

It's bizarre, as untraditional as they come, but it's Vegas, a city that refuses to give up on the power of Elvis Presley, who would have celebrated his 66th birthday Monday.

He's been dead almost 24 years, but Elvis has yet to leave the building in this town.

Elvis impersonators still pack 'em in, that distinctive voice can be heard resonating from slot machines and Elvi sightings in the sky aren't uncommon. Then there are the Elvis ministers, who are so wonderfully unusual that many tourists can't seem to resist them.

"I don't know many people that can say they were married by Elvis," Sealock, 26, of Seattle said after he tied the knot at the Viva Las Vegas Wedding Chapel.

DeCar makes his living as a ministerial Elvis. He also owns the hotel behind the chapel and takes pride in the pink and black Elvis and Priscilla room. Anyone interested in sleeping in a bed that is built into the front half of an actual 1954 pink Cadillac would like this oddity.

Sleeping like the King is one thing, but having him perform your marriage ceremony?

"Most of the people that come to Las Vegas envision themselves being married by the King," DeCar declares, adding that at 42, he's the same age Elvis was when he died.

But after watching her friends' ceremony, Callie Fortin, 24, of Denver looked a bit puzzled.

"It's very strange," she said.

Farther down famed Las Vegas Boulevard, Elvis is never far away.

Tim Welch is preparing for yet another show at the New Frontier hotel-casino, where he belts out Elvis hits to adoring fans. A shuttle is taking tourists on the Strip to and from the nearby Elvis-A-Rama Museum.

Across the country, the Flying Elvi are in demand for shopping mall openings and ball parks. The group of 10 Elvis impersonators, created after the movie "Honeymoon in Vegas" originated the idea, wear wigs and jumpsuits as they parachute out of a plane, then lip sync the King's songs on the ground.

Even their manager is stumped on why the Flying Elvi demand so much attention. "I have no idea," Melissa Feeney said.

And in almost every casino, there's that voice blasting from coin-clanking Elvis slot machines. Hit a winning combination and "you get Elvis singing 'Hound Dog,"' said Rick Sorensen, spokesman for International Game Technology, developer of the Elvis video slots.

Elvis can still bring home a pretty good living. Impersonator Brendan Paul, who works almost full-time traveling the country as Elvis, makes a six-figure salary.

"It's a weird thing," Paul, 32, said. "I didn't realize how much people loved him and how much he means to people still."

Back at the chapel, DeCar steps outside to a familiar refrain.

"It's Elvis!" a passer-by yells.

Indeed it is, and in Las Vegas, he lives.

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