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Newe Ilan, Israel -- They come from far and wide to this temple on a rocky knoll near Jerusalem to honor a king.
Not David. Not Solomon. Nor Herod. But Elvis.
A decade ago, Uri Yoeli, a native Israeli and Elvis fanatic, turned his roadside diner into an Elvis Presley shrine. He filled it with nearly 800 pictures and other memorabilia acquired over the years and erected a statue of the king of rock 'n' roll -- one of the world's largest -- in the parking lot.
Now the Elvis Inn, just off the Jerusalem-Tel Aviv highway, attracts droves of foreign tourists and Israelis to the place where Memphis meets the Middle East.
"Elvis has always been my life. So, it's like my dream has come true," said Yoeli, 49, whose fascination with Elvis began as a teenager in Jerusalem in the late 1950s. "I get to listen to Elvis songs all day and people come to see me."
A jukebox thumps Elvis melodies while patrons savor a menu that is strictly Middle Eastern: grilled lamb and hummus, with stuffed dates for dessert.
Several months ago they began serving a spicy burger (kosher beef, of course), purportedly based on the king's favorite Memphis recipe. But it's difficult to believe Elvis savored burgers served Israeli style -- a plain patty atop a bed of lettuce, with pita bread and olives on the side.
There are no fried peanut-butter-and-banana sandwiches. The waiters don't wear sequined jumpsuits.
Yet the Elvis mystique is strong. The restaurant is not so much a museum as a submersion tank. Blanketing the walls are Elvis photos, movie posters, calenders, magazine covers, concert tickets, postage stamps and license plates. In the back hangs a framed Confederate flag with Elvis' picture in the center.
Originally called the Mountain Inn, its Elvis identification evolved over the years as customers would arrange to meet for lunch or dinner at "the Elvis place." Eventually, Yoeli changed the name and a new landmark was born in the Holy Land.
"When I come here, I feel like I am home," said 18-year-old Lior Bernstein, an ardent fan. He and his parents are regular patrons of the Elvis Inn, making the 45-minute drive from the Tel Aviv suburb of Petakh Tikva.
A slender, bespectacled teenager who slicks his hair back to exacting Elvis standards, Bernstein has collected hundreds of Elvis records and pictures since he was 10. "In my heart I know Elvis lives forever."
He's one of thousands of Elvis devotees in the Jewish state. To them the affinity is only natural. The Jewish state came from humble beginnings, as did Elvis.
They also are quick to inform outsiders of indispensable Israel-Elvis trivia: While the king never toured the Holy Land, he was part Jewish on his mother's side and was aware of it -- he put a Star of David on her original tombstone in Memphis. (Never mind that his maternal line also included Scotch-Irish, French and Cherokee).
Most Israeli fans never have set foot inside Graceland, or even visited the United States. So they come to Yoeli's eatery to experience a uniquely Israeli vision of Elvis.
The Hebrew menu informs the uninitiated of Elvis particulars: born in Tupelo, Miss.; appeared on "The Ed Sullivan Show" only from the waist up; owned more than 100 Cadillacs and gave them as gifts.
For visiting Americans, it's a pleasant surprise.
"You don't come this far and expect to see a place totally devoted to a fellow Tennessean," said David Black, a sailor from Elizabethton, Tenn., who serves on the destroyer U.S.S. Obannon.
Black and his buddies took shore leave while their ship was recently in the port of Haifa, and included a stop for a bottle of Israeli beer at the Elvis Inn.
As many as 30 tour buses visit each day to give Israelis and foreigners the chance to have their picture taken beside the 15-foot, solid white Elvis statue -- the one next to the gas pumps and up the hill from the camel grazing in an olive grove.
In a land overflowing with social, cultural and religious conflicts, Israelis by habit will debate just about anything. So naturally the debate persists here -- is Elvis alive?
"I believe one of these days he will come out," declared Michael Bernstein, Lior's father, who said Elvis only faked his death to escape the mob, who were angry at him for fighting the drug trade.
As for the owner of the Elvis Inn?
"Don't ask me about the last three years of Elvis' life. It's too sad. It's too sensitive," Yoeli said. There are very few photos in the restaurant of Elvis in his bloated and burnt-out years.
For Yoeli and thousands of others, the diner represents a celebration of the king, not a memorial.
"Elvis is a legend," gushed Lior, the teenager now in his first year of obligatory military duty. "He had such charisma and such a voice. He was such a good-looking man. I cannot say it in words. It's just like magic."
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