The door bell would ring, usually a weekend but occasionally a weekday; when you opened it, there would be a handsome young sailor, about twenty-five-ish, blond brushcut almost-a-flattop hair, medium height and weight, just slightly uneven teeth creating a smile with character, crinkly skin around blue eyes, holding a blonde wood Japanese made guitar...and he would start in on Don Gibson's "Oh, Lonesome Me". "Everybody's going out and havin' fun..." Beside him would stand his tiny Japanese wife, Sasako, holding a case of cold Burgie.

Whatever else was planned would immediately come to a halt. The party was started. There would be lots of beer, a lot of singing and guitar pickin', laughter and loudness. Bob Toole was a down- home country boy; he had a voice that was a lot like Willie Nelson's. In fact, in 1959 I didn't have any idea who Willie Nelson was (Bob obviously did since a few of Willie's songs were on Bob's song list). The first time I heard Willie Nelson singing, I thought, "He sounds a lot like Bob Toole..."

Bob worked for my Dad, the Chief, on the Etlah. We lived in the Naval Housing at Admiralty Heights, an off-base housing area of Yokosuka Naval Base, Japan. He was the kind of person who could tell you a story of some semi-tragic event in such a way as to have you rolling on the floor laughing. He was a handsome, funny, and loveable character but his outstanding trait was his immense musical talent. He played and sang country songs all night. He must have known hundreds of them. My favorites, though, were the parodies he did and some of the humorous songs he wrote about life in Japan: "Beautiful, beautiful round-eyes...I'll never love slant-eyes again..." maybe not PC today but a clever parody nonetheless (Bob was married to a beautiful Japanese lady, lived in a Japanese neighborhood, ate their food and drank their beer and spoke their language...he was not prejudiced in any way); "When its soba-slurpin' time in Shimbashi..." was my very favorite, especially the chorus when you got to the line where you "slurp that soba down", we enthusiastically assisted in the big slurping sound effects.

I was totally mesmerized by Bob. The morning after one of the big parties (once the music started, more and more participants started showing up), I would tip-toe through the living room, the floor usually covered wall-to-wall with passed out sailors and their wives/girlfriends, pick up the guitar, creep out to the kitchen or back to my room and try to figure out how to make nice noises the way ole Bob did it. On one of those mornings, I looked up to see Bob watching me from the hall. I was afraid I was in big trouble. But instead of being mad, Bob sat down with me and showed me how to hold my fingers and form a chord. Being a "Texas" school country artist, he taught me G (the lazy one), A, and D. He encouraged me to give it a try. I was intimidated and inhibited at first, but worked with me to get the rythmn of the strum...even though it took me several seconds to change the chords and get enough pressure on the strings to get a true tone, Bob kept encouraging me and over a period of many weeks I was able to do a pretty respectable job on a couple of different tunes. I was twelve.

The next year my Uncle Omar gave me an old Harmony flat-top six-string, taught me how to tune it, and made me the happiest little thirteen-year-old on earth. We moved to California, retired the old Etlah, got the Chief ready for the same, and I settled into high school life. Bob and Sasako would visit from time to time and every time I would show him what I had picked up along the way. He would often teach me some way to do things easier and better, and would always praise and encourage. When I was 14, and the Beachboys hit the scene and the story of their origins became known, every teen in Southern California was part of a garage band. I was a member of perhaps the absolute worst garage band ever...and like ole Charlie Daniels sang, I wasn't good for much at all but playin' REAL LOUD. We had three guitars with enough talent between us for maybe one guitar, and a dang fine drummer. Since we only mastered one or two songs, we played them for a long time; until he died my Dad, the Chief, would never pass up the opportunity to harass me about playing "What'd I Say" for twenty minutes at a time. The way I got the electric guitar is a story in itself...later.

 Now I am 64; I have seven guitars (and not enough talent for one of them), and I have picked up a trick or two along the way. I have only played in front of a crowd a very few times, but that is okay...I can sit down and strum out a tune I like, I still learn a new tune now and then, and I am overjoyed when I figure out the way something goes and am able to turn it into a recognizable song. Every now and then I pick out a little tune and MamaCharlie sings along with me...those are special days. Sometimes I go down to the office where the amplifier is, crank it up LOUD and blast away at some piece or other. I thought I would have the stones to sing in front of folks like Bob did (my voice doesn't lend itself to that sort of thing)...but because of Bob and his patience 52 years ago...I have had hours and hours of making myself happy churning out a tune or two...Thanks, Bob.