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Rockin' Representative

House District 45's new lawmaker will entertain at Mitch Daniels' inauguration party.

After singing at Providence Home's annual Christmas party, Bruce Borders delivers a kiss to resident Eva Robinson, 86, who comes from Terre Haute. -- Mike Fender / The Star
 
Bruce Borders
Age: 45.
Personal: Married; three children; lives in Jasonville; member of the Assemblies of God church.
Nickname: "Mayor of Rock 'n' Roll" and now "Representative of Rock 'n' Roll."
Education: Graduated in 1981 from Evangel College, an Assemblies of God college in Springfield, Mo., where he majored in business administration. He's also attended Indiana University and Indiana State University.
Occupation: Owns Borders Insurance and Financial Service and has been an Elvis impersonator for three decades.
Public office: Republican. Served eight years as mayor of Jasonville. Recently was elected state representative of District 45 in Sullivan County and parts of four other southwestern counties.
Quote: "My mind is full of useless trivia. Now, if I can just understand the (legislative) bills like I do Elvis, I'll be all right."
 
By Dan McFeely

January 3, 2005

 
PAOLI, Ind. -- Reaching from her wheelchair, the 60-year-old woman grabbed Bruce Borders by the leg as his body gyrated in rhythm to Elvis' "Devil in Disguise."

"Hey, there," Borders said with a smile, the tempo of his grinding hips momentarily broken. "I will give you exactly 20 minutes to stop that."

With that, he finished his song as a blur of rhinestones danced in front of the nursing-home crowd.

Just another public appearance for Borders.

Also known as Elvis Presley (and a pretty good one).

Also known as a life insurance salesman from Jasonville -- where, by the way, he also was mayor for eight years.

And this week he will be known as state Rep. Bruce Borders, representing District 45 in Sullivan County and parts of four other southwestern counties.

The state legislator's first order of business has nothing to do with General Assembly bills. He will be performing for new Gov. Mitch Daniels at the inauguration dance Sunday.

Mitch, you see, is a fan.

During a recent celebrity stint on WGLD-FM (104.5), Daniels created a buzz on Borders when he played a song from the latter's Christmas CD of Borders-does-Elvis-hits.

One thing led to another, and suddenly Elvis was set to become a part of inauguration ball history, singing at the Convention Center.

"Bruce strikes me as one of the most sincere and caring people I've met," Daniels said through a spokesman. "And I just love that he knows how to create so much fun for himself and others."

Usually, Borders plays to much smaller audiences.

In Paoli the other day, Borders, 45, peeked around the corner into a small activity room filled with elderly fans.

"I just get a little antsy . . . like a kid at Christmas," he said with a strangely familiar grin.

Hours earlier, he'd played another nursing home in Jasper.

He and his 125-song collection of CDs, giant speakers and audio system also do small-town festivals, county fairs and private gatherings.

Twice he has traveled to Mexico to do a benefit concert for poor youth wanting to go to college.

His largest audience? About 8,000 at a festival in Illinois.

Young Bruce Borders was working a high-school job back in the 1970s when friends noticed he sounded an awful lot like Elvis as he belted out "Jailhouse Rock" while detasseling corn.

A musical director at school noticed, too, and asked him to sing at a show.

A star was born. And thus began nearly three decades of crooning "Love Me Tender," squeezing into Elvis jump suits, cutting three records and selling souvenirs.

"We're not exactly rivaling Garth Brooks, but we have a lot of fun," said Borders, a constant jokester.

He cracks jokes during performances and in conversations with fans. Even when he talks about his new job at the Statehouse.

Sure, he's serious about issues like banning same-sex marriages and requiring local referendums on major capital spending projects.

But he's also serious about Elvis trivia.

He owns more than 150 books on "The King" and considers himself a student of his life.

"My mind is full of useless trivia," he chuckles. "Now if I can just understand the (legislative) bills like I do Elvis, I'll be all right."

At age 17, Borders went to Market Square Arena to witness Elvis' final performance. He concealed a video camera at the June 1977 show, capturing the grand entrance of the rock star, who died just weeks later, in August.

Many years later, he saw a photograph at an Elvis museum in the King's hometown of Tupelo, Miss. The photo purportedly had been taken at that final concert, but the outfit did not match the one Elvis actually wore in Indianapolis.

So in a fit of civic duty, Borders wrote to the museum directors and got them to correct their mistake.

His task in Paoli was much simpler.

He was called in to help fulfill a wish made by Ellen Baker, a patient at Paoli Health and Living Community, who long had wanted to hear "Elvis" sing.

Without a drum roll, Borders entered the room and made his way to Baker, whose eyes lit up with excitement. He hugged her and gave her a souvenir scarf from around his neck.

"I told them you were alive and well," Baker said. "Oh, and look at that hairy chest . . . a hairy chest, ladies."

A flick of a button and background music began to play as Borders dropped to a knee and serenaded Baker with the song "Angel."

Glowing with joy, Baker clutched the scarf and mouthed each and every word to the song.

Even without makeup or a wig, Borders resembles Elvis.

And he looks like the King whether he's dancing on a little nursing home stage, performing on David Letterman's show (February 1988) or hosting a private karaoke party inside a cartoon producer's Hollywood mansion.

Wearing one of his nine Elvis jumpsuits certainly does not hurt the image Borders portrays.

Close your eyes while he sings and the sound is incredibly close to the real thing.

The complete package brought Borders more than 70 gigs this year; 2,000-plus over the past few decades. That includes thousands of dollars in souvenir sales -- including $8 magnets and $4 greeting cards -- and countless heartwarming encounters.

Bob Haverstick, who runs the "Never Too Late" program, which grants wishes to sick or dying patients, said Borders is a natural fit in cases like this.

"When we were in Greenwood together for the very first time, I was in awe," said Haverstick. "There wasn't a dry eye in the place!

"That magical moment showed me that not only did he like to perform as Elvis, but he genuinely cared about the people who listened to him sing. He connects with folks, especially the forgotten elderly, in a special way."

For Borders, faith plays a big role in his life.

He is a devout member of the Assemblies of God church.

So, too, was a certain rock star from Mississippi, he notes.

Borders is not shy about mixing his faith with his musical appearances.

Like when he officiates wedding ceremonies at Holiday World theme park in Santa Claus, Ind. He's not an ordained minister, but is often "deputized" to stand in for one.

He has combined weddings with hot air balloon rides, bungee jumps and popular amusement park rides.

"Before each wedding I personally meet with the couples and counsel them on the importance of marriage," he said. "I need to make sure they are truly serious about what they are about to do."

And then the wedding party climbs onto a roller coaster and sings "I Can't Help Falling in Love With You."

"And so far I'm 10-for-10. No divorces yet. A perfect record."

Borders' popularity -- with small-town fans and national media stars, including Oprah -- no doubt helped his political alter ego change history in his little neck of the woods in southern Indiana.

This month, he will become the first Republican to represent House District 45 in nearly 30 years.

He defeated one-term lawmaker Alan Chowning of Sullivan by more than 3,200 votes, grabbing a seat that long had been held by one of the state's most powerful Democrats, former House Speaker John Gregg.

People had gotten used to having a Democrat lawmaker in the House.

And they had gotten used to referring to Borders as the "Mayor of Rock 'n' Roll" -- a nickname earned while he was Jasonville's top official.

A nickname that's going to have to change.

"I hear you are a state representative now," Bert Hochgesang, 57, of Schnellville, said to him last week. "Just do a good job for us."

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