ONE FEIN DAY FOR ROCK HISTORY.

Byline: Tom Nolan Special to the Daily News

You can't miss rock 'n' roll historian Art Fein's apartment in the gated complex near La Brea and Franklin avenues in Hollywood. It's the one with the huge Memphis, Tenn., ``Elvis Presley Boulevard'' street sign in the front window.

``The sign's a replica,'' the ebulliently precise Fein is quick to say, ``from a souvenir store. There is an Elvis Presley Boulevard in Memphis, but there are no real street signs along it, because they've all been stolen.''

Setting the pop-music record straight comes second nature to Art Fein, whose recently published ``The Greatest Rock & Roll Stories'' (General Publishing Group/Rhino Books, 240 pages; $14.95) sorts the real from the rumor surrounding about a hundred of the most-repeated anecdotes in rock mythology.

``It's an encyclopedia of well-known stories that are either refuted or established through my research,'' Fein says of his cleverly illustrated, heavily footnoted, amusingly written and irresistibly readable trade paperback.

Among the oft-told tales the book runs down are the Chuck Berry-Jerry Lee Lewis feud, Bob Dylan's motorcycle accident, the Frank Zappa-Lou Reed feud, the true death of Brian Jones, the rumored death of Paul McCartney, the Don and Phil Everly feud, Stephen Stills' ``Monkees'' audition, the history of the Plaster Casters, John Lennon and Harry Nilsson's escapades at the Troubadour, and the Sex Pistols' U.S. tour.

``It's short stuff,'' the author says, ``and you can read it in the bathroom. I did a lot of my research through other books, which I name, so you can go out and read those books, too. But you know, most rock books fly outta print real fast, and there is no one repository for 'em. You have to talk to record collectors and book collectors and historians to find 'em - and I happen to be in that crowd, so I was lucky.''

Fein even takes the opportunity in ``The Greatest Rock & Roll Stories'' to remedy an error in his own earlier work, ``The L.A. Musical History Tour'' (Faber & Faber, 1991) - correcting the location of Jan (of Jan and Dean) Berry's career-halting ``Dead Man's Curve'' car crash from Sunset Boulevard to Whittier Boulevard in Beverly Hills. ``I was in the right ZIP code,'' Fein says, ``but I was wrong.''

The still-boyish-looking writer (``I'm on neither side of 50'') has been captivated by rock 'n' roll since 1956 when, as a boy in Chicago, he saw Elvis Presley on ``The Ed Sullivan Show,'' and ``it changed my life.'' After earning a journalism degree at the University of Colorado, Fein came to L.A. in 1970 ``to get around the music.''

Capitol Records hired him as a college promotion director, a job that allowed him to spend some quality time in 1973 with John Lennon and Yoko Ono.

``I was probably a very good person to do that,'' Fein says, `` 'cause I wasn't stuttering and out of my mind with excitement around them. I mean, I liked the Beatles, but I didn't care that much. If it would have been Elvis or Jerry Lee Lewis, I'd have been apoplectic.''

For two weeks, Fein met the Ono-Lennons daily at their hotel and set up telephone interviews for Yoko. ``She would speak about her album to college radio in Buffalo, who were desperately trying not to ask her if and when the Beatles were getting back together; and John and I would be in the next room talking about rockabilly. We had a fine time.''

After his Capitol stint, Fein was music editor at Variety and then worked through the '70s as a record company publicist. In the '80s, he managed the bands the Blasters and the Cramps, promoted live concerts and (always hankering for the pure rock 'n' roll that hooked him as a youngster) helped sire an L.A. rockabilly revival through shows at Club Lingerie and an album (``Art Fein Presents L.A. Rockabilly'') produced for Rhino Records.

``Like most everything I do,'' Fein says of that seminal LP, ``it was influential and meant a lot to a small circle of people - and made me almost no money.''

Fein has earned high marks from music critics, though, for his enthusiastic partisanship of ``roots rock 'n' roll'' and for his sarcasm regarding all things MTV. His two books have generated ``critical huzzahs and even some sales,'' as he says, and he's compiled and/or annotated a dozen CD packages of such artists as Phil Spector, Roy Brown and Jerry Lee Lewis.

Nonindustry folk know Fein best as the host of ``Art Fein's Poker Party,'' a long-running cable-access TV program seen on systems throughout L.A. and the Valley as well as in other U.S. markets.

``It's the only historical rock 'n' roll talk show on TV!'' Fein claims, and who's to doubt him? The show began in 1984, an outgrowth of gatherings in Fein's Hollywood kitchen at which he and friends would play cards and talk music. Fein has taped some 560 half-hour ``Poker Party'' episodes, which often feature live music as well as chat. The collective guest list is impressive - Brian Wilson, Hank Ballard, Johnnie Ray, Ike Turner and Steve Allen are among the legends who've kibitzed with Fein and his sardonically knowledgeable music-biz cronies.

``I just do the show 'cause I love to,'' he says, ``but it's heartening to know people all over the world see it through tapes that get mailed overseas. The band Southern Culture on the Skids - they're my kind of act: three-piece Link Wray-inspired swamp rock - they were on in the summer of '93, before they went to Europe; and they said later that wherever they'd go over there, people had seen them on my show! So there's recognition around the globe for my pioneering efforts that, as usual, don't make me any money.''

Fein, married and a father, has cut down on his club-hopping a bit in recent years; there's a whole new generation of roots-rock bands he hasn't caught live. ``Now that I've got a family,'' he explains, ``I'd rather see my little daughter than a bunch of guys with big ears.''

But there seems little chance Art Fein will be hanging up his rock 'n' roll shoes soon. He still produces the annual star-studded Elvis Presley birthday tribute concert at the House of Blues. And he currently manages the Sprague Brothers, a Valley-based combo that sounds a bit like Buddy Holly crossed with the Ventures.

``People go nuts for these guys, they flock to their shows,'' says Fein, eagerly popping a homemade video of the Spragues into a VCR. He nods his head to the beat with the same enthusiasm he must have shown as a kid watching Elvis. ``Cool, uh? They've got what it takes. It's just a matter of time!''

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Photo: (1--2) Rock 'n' roll fan, historian and impresario Art Fein delves into pop trivia and mythology in ``The Greatest Rock & Roll Stories.''