Roberson knew from a young age that music was his destiny

George Roberson looks back at his days of making music, including the production of his solo album, “Memories.” Contributed.

MARY LOU MONTGOMERY

George Roberson grew up in a large two-story, nine-room house located at 720 Fulton Ave., across the street to the east from the (old) Stowell School playground.

From childhood on, George knew that music would be his destiny. But that same subject also became a clash of wills between he and his mother.

She wanted George to play the cornet, which he did from grades second through ninth at Stowell. She envisioned her son as another Harry James, but George didn’t even know who that was.

“I hated every minute of it,” he said this week in a telephone interview, reflecting back on his early music education. 

Instead, he wanted to play the guitar, and had his eye on his father’s old guitar, packed away in one of the upstairs rooms of that rambling old house.

His father’s guitar was a Carson J. Robinson, sold by Montgomery Ward. “The necks would warp and the strings were a half inch off the neck. I tried to fix it, but I messed it all up.”

A barber

George graduated from the Mueller Barber College.

After barber college, he did an apprenticeship under Nels Tilquist. When Tilquist died, “I bought the shop” at 702 Broadway. “Then I had a guy named Jim Deardueff; he worked for me about three years before he bought his own shop.”

George operated the shop solo for about 13 years. 

In addition to music and barbering, he also did handy-man work, and at one time was a boxer and a boxing coach. 

But whatever he was doing to make a living, “All the time I had music going in the background.

“I was a very controversial subject downtown,” he said. Men who came into his barber shop would say, “they didn’t know if they would get a hair cut or a song.”

Throughout his life, he has written hundreds of songs, and has recorded songs in Nashville on four different record labels.

He even traveled for a time with an evangelist, Dr. Wallingsford. “He would preach and I would sing and we’d hold revival meetings.”

Favorite song

If asked to pick out his favorite song of all those he’s written, it would be “Behold.”

“It’s a gospel song I wrote. The Good Time Singers came through town, and they loved it and recorded it,” he said.

“The last time I went to see them at First Assembly of God Church, I was standing in line waiting to talk to them.” The members told him that there were five groups singing his song in Texas. “I got a letter from agents of LaCross Publishing in Nashville, they wanted to publish the song, but told them I’m not ready to publish it at this time.

“The business has changed so much,” he said. “If I were to assign that song to their publishing company, if it sold for a dollar, they’d get a quarter and I’d get a nickel.”

Time passes

Life has passed by so quickly, George, who is now in his eighth decade, said.

He remembers a lesson he learned when a small boy of just 7 or 8.

“We’d go to prayer meeting on Wednesday night, and one week the buses didn’t run.

“Another couple picked us up in their car. I remember an old man, Uncle Henry, they called him. His legs didn’t work just right, so he had crutches.

“Uncle Henry would say, ‘Anymore it  just seems like summer and winter, and winter and summer.’”

What is he talking about? 

Now that George has reached this season of his life, he reflects back on what Uncle Henry was saying.

“He was telling the truth; once you go past 60, time just goes. Now I know, time goes fast and you don’t realize it.

“I’ve had a wonderful life; God has been so good to me. He’s got me out of more jams than I’ve gotten into.”

As a young man, George’s mother, Corthell, was a homemaker, and his father, Carl, worked for International Shoe Factory, and later for American Packaging Corporation in Quincy, Ill.

He has fond memories of growing up on the South Side, and of attending Stowell School.  Living next door, at 718 Fulton, was Seaton Bonta, then principal of Stowell elementary and junior high school.

“Teachers entered me into school plays, and I did a travelogue movie with a guy from Chicago. I played Tom Sawyer in the movie; we did performances for him.”

In addition, in 1953 he won the WGEM Pepsi Amateur Hour three times.

First guitar

His introduction to the guitar was a natural transition.

“I went to a friend’s house, they were having a jam session. When I got there, these guys were unbelievable. It set such a fire inside of me for playing a guitar. ‘I have to get ahold of one of these,’” I said.

“I bought a Silvertone electric guitar made by Sears.

“It would have lasted forever, but I ran out of money when I was in barber school and had to sell it.

“When I was 20, I would practice on that thing 10 hours a day. I’d have jam sessions with a friend and his wife, who told me they were having a big country show in Illinois. ‘I won’t go unless they call and invite me,’” George said.

Which is exactly what happened. “I did that thing; that was one of their last shows, they said. ‘I don’t mean to intrude,’ I told them, ‘but I know a guy who is looking for a band right now to do a show.’ The next thing I knew I was running the show. I didn’t mean to, it just happened that way. I got us on KHMO. We recorded on Wednesday nights in his friends’ basement,” of their house. For sound perfection, they put up a clothes line, and hung an old feather mattress over it, to shut some of the echo down.

“Then there was Ambrose Haley; he lived down the street. I had the barber shop on Broadway, and he lived two doors down the street, upstairs.

“He came in one day with a Billboard magazine, and said, ‘Look at your picture.’ Our band and the radio show were under Jack Green, ‘There Goes My Everything.’

It was about 1964.

“The next thing I knew they were calling me for jobs all over the Midwest. Ivan Jennings had an opera in Frankford; we went down there and he hired us. They had been open for three weeks.” On the night of the show,  "The cars were backed up for about a mile. Come to find out the place was so full they didn’t have any place to park. We performed there for a year and a half; 660 people every Saturday night. Ivan’s wife Edna ran the concession stand.

“Later on I met a friend of mine who lived in Hannibal, O.C. Latta. He had a TV show in Nashville, probably in the 1960s or 1970s.”

Latta said, “I’ve got an idea for a radio show, would you be interested?

"Every night we would talk about it, and we decided to do a comedy album. My old producer in Nashville said he would be interested. O.C. and I got our things together,” and produced “Laughing Out Loud,” a cassette tape. A year or so later they produced, “Wanted Dead or Alive.”

“We finally went different directions,” George said, “but he is still a very good friend of mine.”

Taking it easy

George isn’t playing the guitar much any more.

“I just play on occasions now, when I choose to. To be on top of that, you have to practice all the time. I just don’t have energy to do it. I don’t feel as good as I used to; I had a pacemaker  put in last April; it has slowed me down somewhat.”

Mary Lou Montgomery can be reached at montgomery.editor@yahoo.com