Elvis was never her kinda doll

The Boston Herald

BEVERLY BECKHAM

`The Chronicle of the 20th Century" lists only one name under "Births" in January 1935. He stands alone: "Elvis Presley, American Rock and Roll Pioneer."

Imagine, Elvis Presley, a pioneer just like Davey Crockett. I used to have a Davey Crockett hat. I used to know all the words to "Born on a mountaintop in Tennessee."

But Elvis? He never did a thing for me.

It was the slow, mellow music, the songs of my mother's era, that moved me - Jo Stafford crooning "Long ago and far away," and Les Brown and his orchestra playing "Sentimental Journey" with Doris Day doing the vocal.

I never got to see Jo Stafford or Les Brown, but my husband and I did see Elvis in Las Vegas in November 1978. He was appearing at the Hilton and we had tickets for the midnight show. The line of fans stretched through lobbies and doorways, all the way out of the building and down the street for blocks. We didn't have to wait in line, however. I was hugely pregnant and some solicitous soul took pity on me and ushered us to the front.

But thousands of people stayed in line and didn't seem to mind. They were like molecules inside a test tube, bouncing off each other, just waiting for the needed element to explode.

Elvis was that element. When he walked on stage the crowd went wild. He bowed and they screamed. He smiled and they hollered. He threw his scarf into the crowd and women and men swooned. Though Elvis spent the entire time he was on stage, which was about 45 minutes, playing to his band, not to the audience, they didn't seem to mind. He was there and they were there.

If there had been Elvis Presley dolls for sale that night, I suppose thousands would have been sold. As it was fans bought recordings and programs and all kinds of wall hangings of the King painted on black velvet.

The King. Elvis Presley, the pioneer, was also a king.

No doubt that's why today, on what would have been his 59th birthday, Hasbro Toy Division has started selling its "Commemorative Collection" of Elvis dolls. Hasbro must believe there's a market for these $50, 12-inch figures, though I can't imagine serious Elvis fans, like the guy who does an Elvis impersonation at Francos in Norwood every Kareoke night, actually buying these things, unless it's to copy the outfits.

But what do I know? I didn't think Elvis was hot stuff even when he was hot stuff. So "Teen Idol," the young Elvis doll; "Jailhouse Rock 45 RPM," Elvis around 1957, and " '68 Special Elvis," featuring the legend in the black leather, won't ever do anything for me.

But, if Hasbro wanted to come out with a Richard Chamberlain doll collection . . . I'd be the first in line to buy these.

Chamberlain, like Elvis, was born in 1935, on March 31, though the "Chronicle of the 20th Century" fails to list him. And as young Dr. Kildare, the heartthrob of Blair General Hospital, he, like Elvis, was also a pioneer, bringing into standard usage such now familiar phrases as "She's young. She has a strong heart." and "I'm sorry. We did everything we could."

And he, like Elvis has also been dubbed a king - "King of the television mini-series," according to the "New Book of People." He played the English sailor, Blackthorne, stranded in medieval Japan in the mini-series "Shogun." He played the absolutely gorgeous Father Ralph de Briccasart in "The Thorn Birds."

Today he's on Broadway in "My Fair Lady" in the role of Professor Higgins.

The doll possibilities are stunning:

Chamberlain in scrubs, holding a scalpel.

Chamberlain in a kimino, holding a cup of saki.

Chamberlain in a collar holding young Meggie.

Chamberlain in an ascot holding court on Broadway.

If Davey Crockett hats and "Everybody in the whole cell block was dancin' to the jailhouse rock," can make marketing history, I figure a doll that sings "Men are so honest, so thoroughly square, eternally noble, historically fair," who can be doctor, adventurer, priest, father, and accountant has a good chance of making history, too.