By Taylor Adams Cogan

“Oh, yeah, I gave him a ride once.”

It’s a common sentence you’d get if you heard the name Bob Crawford, or, as he was commonly known around Deep Ellum, Keyboard Bob. He could be quick to smile and make others smile in return. Most knew him as the man who always carried a keyboard tightly under his arm.

Dallas lost this beloved neighbor when he died peacefully on Sunday, Aug. 10, at the age of 73.

Deep Ellum’s Jessica Brodsky is one of many who knew Bob for more than his keyboard.

“The joy he would have when I would cut and color his mohawk, and his utter defiance of everyone and their opinions of him, was a quality many people misunderstood about him,” she says. “He lived his life on his own terms, the only way he knew how.”

While you could find Bob throughout Deep Ellum, you’d also spot his face at the State Fair of Texas or Lower Greenville – any place that gave him a purpose of being.

“I would have little birthday parties for him, and he’d show up sometimes with his own cake to share with everyone. For Halloween, he would ask me to paint his face. People knew him as Keyboard Bob, but I got to know Robert,” Jessica says. “I saw the softer sides of him sitting at his bedside in the ER, visiting him at various hospitals, hanging out with him at his home, and all the rides. He was more intelligent than people give him credit for.”

Bob persisted in having what he considered a normal life, which was wandering the neighborhood telling jokes, making people smile, and even sitting at the door of a bar, telling the kids not to cuss. He was human, and he had quirks that were his own way of being part of a society that rejected him over and over again throughout his life.

“Mischievous and mysterious, often crass yet weirdly sweet, famously diminutive but full of tall tales, he ambled through the world like a gnome come to life — almost always, as became his signature, with a keyboard lugged in tow,” wrote Pete Freedman for WFAA on Aug. 10.

“I don’t fear death, and I don’t fear people,” Bob said in the 2010 documentary about his life. The man walking around Deep Ellum carried more than a musical instrument, a past made by a schizophrenic mother abusing and abandoning him as a child at an institution for the “feeble-minded” in his home state of New Hampshire, where he wouldn’t be fully released until he was 25.

He started to become a familiar face in East Dallas when his older sister took him to Dallas and left him a street corner with nothing.

From The Dallas Morning News in 2012:

“He’s welcome at the clubs in Deep Ellum and along the shops in Mockingbird,” [James Carrell, his guardian,] said. “Everywhere he goes, people know him and look after him.”

Part of the reason is that Bob has a sweet nature, acquaintances said. “He can show up and suddenly say just the right thing,” [Lisa Johnson, who co-directed the documentary] said. “He’ll say, ‘If no one else has told you today they love you, I love you.’”

Still, [real estate agent Leeca Hickox] said, he was sometimes not easy to be around. “He burns people out,” she said. “He’ll ask me for $20 and I’ll say, ‘Bob, I just gave you $20. Don’t ask me again.’ And then a few minutes later, he’ll ask me for $20.”

But he persisted, working to treat people better than he had been treated for much of his life. People throughout East Dallas took time to understand him, and that was especially true in Deep Ellum.
In 2017, when he needed surgery, Deep Ellum did its normal rallying to support him, raising money for medical expenses before hosting a welcome-home party at Cafe Brazil.

You’d see him at any kind of concert (maybe even on stage), and you could talk with him as you made your way down the street. He might ask for a lift home, mumble, or tell a joke, but you wouldn’t forget the encounter.”

Here are a few people’s thoughts on Bob Crawford:

“He was kind of a fixture at the free man. Played him a tune during our last set to keep him moving on his way into the afterlife.”

– John Jay Myers

“RIP, Bob Crawford — aka ‘Deep Ellum Bob’ aka ‘Keyboard Bob’ — a constant character whose love of live music made him a famous fixture in DE. Even my kids knew him.
Watch the documentary ‘His Name Is Bob.’ I’ll miss spotting him at events, dancing joyfully in the crowd. It won’t be the same without him.”

– Eva Raggio

“He was quite the character in the Dallas area who bridged generations. My parents met him at Hard Nights Day shows when they were younger. I met him in Deep Ellum shortly after his documentary was released. We both asked each other, “‘Hey, how do you know Bob?'”

– Lacey Prewitt

“You either loved him, hated him, or tolerated him. Either way, he was a staple of Deep Ellum. His name was Bob Crawford. I was fortunate to have known him for nearly 30 years. I gave him multiple rides home and have numerous pictures with him scattered throughout my extensive collection of thousands of photographs throughout the years. … I just saw him a few weeks ago and made him some fries, as was our custom. I knew this day would come sooner rather than later, so with that said, may you rest in peace, Bob, and may your legend continue while you finally get some rest.”

– Kurt Molhusen

“Hard to imagine the neighborhood without him.”

– Justin Terveen

“Bob Crawford, you were a real character. I’ll say you are definitely an iconic figure in the Deep Ellum community. You made us laugh, cry and sometimes got on our nerves but you were still a big part of our lives. Its not going to be the same not seeing you walk up and down the streets of Deep Ellum. Thank you for being you. Thank you for being a friend not just to me but to the entire Deep Ellum neighborhood. You will be missed.”

– Joseph Cabrera

‘Try it; you might like it’ was Bob’s go-to ‘cheeky’ catchphrase (put your tongue back in your mouth, Bob). But honestly, I think about it often…because shouldn’t we all try more things? Who knows. We just might like it. This was Bob. Unapologetically his (most times inappropriate) self with a kernel of wisdom somewhere in there to share.”

– Jessie States

“‘Have you seen my baseball?'”

Way back, when Frankie and I worked at Club Dada, Bob would always come in with his piano. He would also always lose his piano, which was funny. Anyways, Frankie got the bright idea to give him a baseball, because we had watched that movie Something About Mary recently. That was way back when. Anyways, Bob got a baseball and of course ended up losing it. All we heard for weeks and weeks was, “‘Have you seen my baseball?'”

– Anthony Delabano

“Bob was a fixture in the neighborhood. Yes…Neighborhood of Deep Ellum. Everyone knew him. Everyone had given him a ride or had bought him something. No one knew much about him. He stopped carrying his keyboard around a few years ago. Another page in history turns. Sorry to see you go, Bob.”

– Cathryn Colcer

“Rest in peace, Bob. Our beloved “Keyboard Bob,” a true Deep Ellum legend. You weren’t just a familiar face at the hall — you were part of its heartbeat. Every week, we could count on seeing you out on the dance floor at Swingin’ at the Sons, your joy contagious to everyone around you. On Thursdays, you brought your magic to the Campfire Jam, filling the room with music and laughter from your rolodex of jokes. We’ll miss your smile, your energy, and the light you brought into every gathering. I hope wherever you are now, you’re dancing and jammin’ till your heart’s content. You will be missed beyond measure.”

– Sons of Hermann Hall