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FIRST-PERSON: Southern Baptists & St. Louis’ Beatle Bob


ST. LOUIS (BP)–Thousands of Southern Baptists converging on St. Louis next week may not have even heard of Beatle Bob. But chances are many of them will before they leave, especially if they venture out into the city.

Summer in St. Louis, when the local music bands heat up, is Beatle Bob’s time to shine. At 49, Bob Matonis (as he’s also known), a mop-haired, angular-shaped local music fanatic, has made “dancing,” though some say “bobbing,” his evening vocation for more than 20 years. He doesn’t take vacations, averaging just over one show per evening, even though he doesn’t drive. He’s drawn to roots music: from jazz to zydeco, from blues to reggae, from folk to rock. He’ll even dance to a symphony if he feels a rhythm coming on.

You’ll be hard-pressed to categorize Bob’s dancing style. It’s a unique, extemporaneous combination of the “watusi, cool jerk, twist, frug, shake … the twist, the hully-gully, the mashed potato and the pony”; his trademark moves resemble a bowling toss and a kung fu assault.

Just as Beatle Bob follows bands, people and cameras follow Beatle Bob. So when he’s spotted at a music show, in his usual sharp jacket and shiny shoes, it says something about the band’s status in (and emergence to) the St. Louis music culture.

Bob can often be found up near the stage, where he can carve out space to dance. He doesn’t seem to know or care who’s watching him as he twists, jerks and karate-chops with a fragmented flare, filling the surrounding air with a buzz. Often he’s invited on stage to do his thing. He becomes, for the moment, a member of the band, an integral key to the performance, adding excitement and energy to the event. Rarely will he dance with anyone; in an odd way, though, he’s partner to the crowd, channeling charisma through frenetic jerks to his observers. He assures them that individual self-expression is permissible. Indeed, it’s captivating.

Numerous stories have been written about Beatle Bob. And many have read what Beetle Bob has to say about local bands, their music and the “art” of eclectic dancing. But it’s doubtful that no one would care about Beatle Bob or about his opinions if they weren’t thoroughly convinced that he “couldn’t care less.” He’s been lauded as charismatic and energetic and criticized by as choppy, careless and artless. In regard to these comments, Bob has brashly noted, “I don’t care what people think” — not even the band. “I love dancing and music. If it moves me, I’m going to go out and move.”

In a way, the upcoming Southern Baptist Convention meeting at St. Louis is filled with Beatle Bobs. They may not be dancing, bobbing or weaving, but they share certain similarities with Beatle Bob. First of all, they’re fanatics of a sort: They have deep-rooted beliefs in and devotion to the Triune God, such that it envelops their lives, not just their “vocations.”

And like Beatle Bob, their thoughts and actions aren’t usually determined by what people think about them. If it moves them, whether it’s a doctrinal issue, an evangelistic opportunity or a teachable moment, they’ll “get out there and move.”

As they move about, sometimes they’ll draw criticism, sometimes praise. But here may be the difference: for Southern Baptists, as they practice their individuality and freedom of expression — under the constraints of orthodox Christianity — they’ll seek, hopefully, to please an audience of One. And along the way they just might captivate the attention, sometimes laudatory, sometimes critical, of curious onlookers.
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Kyle Roberts is a member of Evanston (Ill.) Baptist Church and a doctoral student at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School in Deerfield.

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  • Kyle Roberts