Dennis Wilson of the Beach Boys and Bob Walpole from California
A COLUMN By Kathryn Ross
When I was just a kid back in the 50s my favorite music was whatever my older sister played on her record player or on her little, red transistor radio; like Elvis. I used to fall asleep listening to the mellow tones of ‘Love Me Tender.’ If she played ‘Old Shep’ I just cried myself to sleep.
The summer I turned 12 things changed. That’s when five guys from Southern California released a single called ‘Surfer Girl.’ After hearing it, I went right down to Just Music on Main Street with my allowance in my pocket and bought the 45 rpm. I learned all my car lingo from ‘Little Deuce Coup’ on the B-side.
I love the ocean. Wellsville is landlocked (like, you don’t know) except for the Genesee which is usually so shallow in summer that you can walk across it without getting your feet wet. The nearest ocean is hours away. I’d only seen it once, when I was about four. I followed my sister into the surf off the coast of New Jersey. Pat turned around just in time to pick me up before the waves crashed over my little head. She did that for most of my life.
I played ‘Surfer Girl’ for hours. I fell in love with the shaggy, golden-haired, drummer – bad boy, Dennis Wilson.
I first heard The Beatles when my friend, Gail received their album for Christmas from relatives in England. It was OK, but The Beach Boys were my group. ‘God Only Knows,’ ‘Little Surfer Girl,’ ‘In My Room,’ were the songs of my dreams.
When sidewalk surfing became a thing, Gail and I went right down to Western Auto and bought two, 2-foot-long pieces of shaped lumber with sidewalk skate wheels attached to the bottom. The boards had a surfer painted on the top. Compared to today’s sleek skateboards, those early boards were like comparing the Flintstone car to a Ferrari.
After the Beatles arrived in the United States in 1964, I hiked down the street to Umikers. I’d seen the four-faced Meet The Beatles album in the record bin in the back of the neighborhood grocery store. I bought it. By that time, I had one of those suitcase-styled stereos. I played the album endlessly, but The Beach Boys still owned my heart and soul. Even though I liked Ringo, another drummer, Dennis still made my teenaged heart throb. There is just something about drummers, isn’t there girls?
I entered high school in 1964. Everything was new and scary. My class wasn’t top dog anymore. We were lowly freshmen carrying armfuls of books, trudging the upper floors of the high school while keeping our heads down.
One day I lifted my head up and saw a shaggy, golden-haired beach boy walk by. That was the first time I put eyes on Bob Walpole. When I found out he was from California, a surfer and in a band, it was even better. Bob was the reincarnation of Dennis the Beach Boy. I was mesmerized, but because I was a shy, insecure, four-eyed, lowly freshmen, I lacked the courage to approach him or even talk to such a dreamy, upperclassmen.
It wasn’t until long after both of us had left behind the halls of Wellsville High School that I saw him again.
By then it was the early part of the century. I was the director of Music On the Lawn. I always looked for hometown talent and acts that weren’t found in the local bars. I wanted acts and music that people didn’t get to hear in bars. Somehow, I became aware of the popular duo Bob and Dee (Bob Walpole and Dee Specker). I probably learned about them from Gail. She sang with an equally popular local band.
Learning that Bob was my secret high school crush was just a bonus. I remembered his bands playing at the Community Center and how much I’d enjoyed their music. I hired Bob and Dee. I hired Bob and Dee several times over the years. They were a big hit with our MOTL crowd.
When I learned in April that Bob had passed away, I was saddened but not surprised. That kind of thing is happening more and more these days.
I was, however, happy to find out that his family is holding a celebration of his life later this month on August 23. I’m sure it will be full of music and celebration.
How else would you remember Wellsville’s very own beach boy?
Kathryn Ross is a lifelong Wellsville writer and mediaite. You can reach her anytime at, kathr_2002@yahoo.com
More on Bob Walpole’s upcoming celebration of life and his obituary below:
