BY RYAN E. SMITH
BLADE STAFF WRITER
Metallica was there. Run-DMC was there. Jeff Beck was there. But last weekend, even though he had a ticket, Elvis was not at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony in Cleveland.
Instead, he was stuck driving the family dogs back from a vacation in Florida and didn't make it in time. That's what happens when you're Elvis only part of the time.
See, this Elvis — you might know him as Robert Rosencrantz — is also a chef in Toledo. In fact, he's mostly a chef. It's only once a week on average that he throws on the studded jumpsuit and performs as an Elvis tribute artist.
Still, you can tell with just a look that Elvis is part of his living fiber. Maybe it's the sideburns or the pompadour that the Point Place man wears all the time, which have gotten him teased over the years, even gotten him into a fist fight at a local grocery. Or maybe it's hearing about the special jumpsuits that his mom made for him when he was growing up.
In some ways, Bob, 45, is exactly what you'd expect from an impersonator. He has authentic, rhinestone-covered costumes hanging in his basement and spends hours trying to get the King's voice right. That's what people want. They want him to be Elvis.
"I've tried to do shows where I don't ... dress up as Elvis and people got mad," he says.
People have invited him to perform at weddings, asking only that he sit and eat and be Elvis. (He always declines. No singing, no Bob.)
One problem is that Bob isn't Elvis and never set out to be him. Earlier in life, he wanted to be a male vocalist in the mold of Tony Bennett or Frank Sinatra. He went to Nashville and walked up and down the streets until he realized that fame wasn't going to happen, or at least that he wasn't the type to live out of his car long enough until it did.
"I didn't want to be Elvis. I just wanted to be a singer," he says. "I guess Elvis is the next best thing."
Impersonating a sex symbol is a rush, he says. Women still scream and whistle, still throw underwear at you (on occasion), still wait after a show for your autograph. Musically, it's been a dream too. Bob's jammed with legendary back-up singers and musicians, including D.J. Fontana, Elvis's drummer who entered the Rock Hall on Saturday and who will be at the Toledo Elvis Festival April 18.
But he's never forgotten one thing: He's "just Bob" once he steps off-stage.
"I don't talk like Elvis on an every- day basis. I don't feel like him," he says. "I stick to the Elvis impersonating thing because I so much enjoy performing. In order for me to be a performer I have to sacrifice something I really don't like to do, which is dress up as somebody else."
Just because other people don't always appreciate Bob for being Bob doesn't mean he has to follow suit. He's seen some tribute artists who keep up the schtick 24/7. They go to bed in silk pajamas and load up on gold jewelry when they wake up. They walk and talk like Elvis even when the show is over.
"It's neat if you're the guy that invented that," Bob says. "If you're just leading someone else's life, then you're cheating yourself."
Don't think this applies only to Elvis impersonators. It's also about wanting to dress like the cool kid in class or mimicking a famous actor. It's about thinking that by emulating someone else you can be someone else. Bob knows that's not true.
"I'm Bob," he says. "I'm just Bob."
More importantly, he knows that's enough.
Originally published in The Blade on Friday, April 10, 2009
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