Bob – My Secret Lives

We’ve been meeting here in the pages of Don’t Believe a Word I Say for going on 10 years, and I just want to thank you all for dropping by when you have a few minutes to kill and spend them reading our stories and looking at our pictures. There are so many other things you could do with the time, like call a loved one, find out where your cat hid your keys, or look in the trunk of your car to see if you missed any spots when you removed the plastic sheets, rope, duct tape, axe, scalpel, and chloroform, and  wiped it down with bleach.

Years ago, someone put up a Wikipedia page of me, charting out my history and biography, based on the information you can find on the internet, interviewing individuals who know me, and …if you’re diligent, gander at unsealed court documents and arrest record files that may have eluded the shredder.

Even with all that, the Wikipedia page is rife with errors, and missing a tremendous amount of facts and information I have worked hard to keep from the public eye.

I have decided to share some of these nuggets of past adventures, mistakes, victories, and defeats, as a ‘thank you’ for your continued support and attention.

When you reach this portion of life’s journey, you are supposed to enter the ‘Golden Years’ of being able to live with experience and wisdom at your disposal, appreciate what is truly important in life, and contentedly and gratefully enjoy the Twilight Years you have been blessed with.

Unfortunately, these days seem more like the Twilight Zone instead of the Twilight Years.

I need a drink ….



I was two years old when I became a member of Betty Hackett’s Tappin’ Toddlers. Our signature routine, performed to “Shine On Harvest Moon” rocketed us to stardom on the Northern California Toddler Tapping circuit, and we spent 300 days on the road doing County Fairs, Yo-Yo Competitions, Rotary Club luncheons, PTA Dinners, and headlining California Penal System Inmate Talent Shows. It was a grueling, exhausting, tour. and I was getting by hepped up on sugar cubes, YooHoo, Pez, and mainlining Sugar Pops straight out of the box, no milk.

I was in trouble.

At our last show …the Milpitas Elementary School Tap – Off and Finger Painting Finals, I was rescued from my downward spiral by William Morris agent, Bernard Schmeckie, who just happened to be in the audience due to a missed bus.

“Call me Uncle Schmeckie, kid”, he said …and handed me a candy cigarette.

Tagalong Cassidy

Uncle Schmeckie whisked me away to Hollywood on the next available bus, asking me questions along the way.

Finding out that Hopalong Cassidy was my current hero, he excitedly told me they were auditioning for a child my age to play Hoppy’s long lost son, Tagalong Cassidy,

Tragically, I got the part, only to find out Hoppy’s show had been cancelled the next day and replaced by a sock puppet clown and a singing, dancing, dreidel. .

I decided to follow my dream of a career in music and went home to Stockton, only to find out Uncle Schmeckie never called my parents. I had to throw the kid out they bought to replace me so I could have my room back.

There were only three positions left in Mrs. Richardson’s Kindergarten Band when I started school. Alphabetically, I was last in line after Gabby Pecos, who got the banjo, and Mary Elizabeth McRooney, who chose the bagpipes, so I was stuck with the accordion.

I sucked at ‘Amazing Grace’, and Mary Elizabeth and I were both sidelined during “Foggy Mountain Breakdown’, but I OWNED ‘Lady of Spain’.

Fortunately for me, 6 years later, a Disney talent scout spotted me at a recital at the Weberstown Mall Accordion Outlet and hired me for a new TV show, The Mickey Mouse Club.

It was time to go back to Hollywood. This time, I made sure they called my parents.

Accordion had fallen out of style, so they recast me as a dancer. Back in those days, TV shows were only allowed one light-skinned Italian and they already had Annette Funicello, so they lightened my skin, gave me giant horse teeth, and changed my last name.

It was a fun couple of years, but when I was offered the Lawrence Welk Show, I took a pass, and Disney found a kid, gave him plastic surgery to look like me, and sent him to ABC.

I had taken up the guitar and writing music in Hollywood and was off to seek fame and fortune as a rock and roll star.

I won an audition to become the artist who changes popular music forever, but when the winner was announced, a kid named Bobby ZIMMERMAN was declared the winner by the host who had serious vision problems and couldn’t find her reading glasses.

To this day I am convinced that twirpy little kid from the Midwest hid her glasses and hoped she’d announce him as the Bobby who won.

Luckily, the leader of an up and coming band saw me and hired me to be lead singer and rhythm guitarist for his band, Rollo and the Shiny Green Jackets.

Rollo and the Shiny Green Jackets

Although Rollo had big plans for the Shiny Green Jackets, we ended up playing high schools and 4H box lunch picnics.

Before any good gigs came along, I was fired for growing my hair long and declaring I was a Democrat.

Carnaby Bob

For a while, I was adrift on a sea of uncertainty. Working my way over to England on a tramp steamer as a jolly good lamp lighter and boot black, I became a runway model for Carnaby Street clothier, Mick Velveteen.

Mick paid too much attention to my inseam during fittings, so I moved forward by bringing some much needed notoriety and novelty to a boring sport.

I am the only human being to ever win the Grand Slam at Wimbledon in khaki’s, Cuban heeled Beatle boots, and with a racket made from a Gibson Les Paul Jr, while chain smoking an entire pack of Dunhill Mild cigarettes.

I returned to Canada with money to spare and took a series of odd jobs.

I created “Lean on Me”, a business catering to drunk, high, or dizzy Rock Stars who needed someone trustworthy to lean on in times of falling down. I had many famous clients, including this one, known to many Canadian music appreciaters old enough to remember him. He was a very good leaner, and leaned often.

Nightshift Desk Clerk at the infamous Lakeshore Lanai Motel. Here I am singing the room number and check out time to the 16th Mr. and Mrs. Smith to check in in the space of an hour during a Wednesday night run on the place.

After repeatedly being shot at by irate husbands and wives at the Motel, I took a job selling replica Wurlitzer Jukeboxes, Pinball Machines, and Pacman arcade games, mostly to music industry executives, mob guys, and lawyers.

That ended the night a meteor crashed through the roof of the warehouse and gifted me with powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal men.

I could fly and I could talk criminals out of doing criminal things. Super Bob sounded lame, so I took the name ‘Captain BS’. You can figure out what the ‘BS’ stands for if you need to.

The powers only lasted 3 weeks …and when they ceased to work, I found myself stranded in London England, where I had gone to stop A&M from dropping the Sex Pistols.

I had to find a new profession to earn enough money to get home.

Richard Keefs

Malcolm MacLaren booked me a tour as Richard Keefs, London Rock Star, and I danced badly, sang badly, and posed and pouted across Northern England until I had a huge following and made lots of cash.

It’s easy in England, they like everything. …but I missed fighting crime.

I figured a rock star secret identity and crime fighting were a perfect match. I was wrong. Bad guys kept showing up at my gigs to kick my ass ’cause I spoiled their crimes. .

Disappointed, I decided to take one last kick at the crime fighting can.

I joined Division 52’s Whore Corps. in Toronto. We were a group of dedicated men out to curtail the crime of sex between consenting adults, ‘johns’ being mostly white collar types – stock brokers, lawyers, CEO’s, Priests, Mormons, and their ilk, and the ladies of the night, mostly working their way through university, paying for their children’s day care, or housewives whose husbands refused to buy them gin or crack and thought only of their own orgasm and a sandwich.

My first night on the track, I met Paco Jose Gonzales Fifaro Tostada Inglessias Burrito, who offered me a job with a Colombian/Mexican Cartel specializing in cocaine, weed, and piñatas.

It was for big money and quite a relief…the rouge and face powder were giving me a rash.

Changing my persona again, I fit right in, and the Cartel bloomed under my management.

Tragically, I realized too late I had been set up as the patsy, the fall guy, the dummy to be left to the law when they broke down the door looking for the boss.

I was hornswoggled, bound and gagged, and led away to face a firing squad and my demise.

I escaped at the last minute by requesting a bathroom break and, with the help of Juanita, our seeing eye Senorita, Roland the Mariachi Poet, John Robert John the reporter and I, all escaped through the bathroom window and onto the getaway burro Juanita had stashed in the laneway out back.

Now what?

Changing my appearance again, I became a bartender at Rosa’s Cantina during the day

.At night, I robbed tourists at the ATM out in front of Rosa’s.

When I had enough money (robbing Rosa’s on Trivia night took me over the top) I made it back into the States, and using my criminal contacts, joined the San Diego Mafia after buying a fat suit and having my neck surgically removed after being told it would grow back in time. Then one night, when everyone else was at a concrete shoe fitting, I stole every dollar in the office safe, and, with another impenetrable disguise, escaped into the night and back to Canada.

I was only Father Bob for 7 days, but I performed three weddings, presided over a funeral, blessed a sailboat, and hosted a Euchre night and spaghetti feed at an Our Lady of Perpetual Agony fund raiser.

When I got back to Canada, I found out my last solo LP had won a Grammy …but I had to return it when the Academy discovered that the 2 guys from Milli Vanilli, Rob and Fab, had sung all the vocals.

For a time I was homeless due to all my money being stolen from the mattresses where I had been keeping it.

Fortunately, by now I was old enough to get my pension, small as it is, and have enough to put a roof over my head and some food on the table.

Now I’m just bored most of the time, don’t go anywhere or do much other than write these silly columns and wait for the odd cheque to show up.

Still, I am happy to be here and grateful for what  I have.

How about you?

Are you happy and grateful for what you have?

You should be.


Segarini’s regular columns are thought by some to contain hidden messages, answers to ancient mysteries, and secret directions to the hidden city of Shang Tao, Paradise on Earth. Others think he writes only because he loves the sound of his own typing

Please leave any comments in the “Reply” section below


Bob “The Iceman” Segarini was in the bands The Family Tree, Roxy, The Wackers, The Dudes, and The Segarini Band and nominated for a Juno for production in 1978. He also hosted “Late Great Movies” on CITY TV, was a producer of Much Music, and an on-air personality on CHUM FM, Q107, SIRIUS Sat/Rad’s Iceberg 95, (now 85), and now publishes, edits, and writes for DBAWIS, continues to write music, make music, and record.

One Response to “Bob – My Secret Lives”

  1. Jim Chisholm Says:

    BS! 🙂

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