His Name is Bob

The true story of an idiot savant who survives

his own personal holocaust

By Heather Lee

Robert Thomas Crawford is known by most as Bob. The short, heavyset, toothless man wears the same dirty clothes for weeks. He gets around Dallas by foot, wears his house keys on a string around his neck and usually carries a musical keyboard clutched tightly under his arm. His fingernails are packed with filth and he bathes only on a full moon. He looks homeless but he claims to be worth $86 million. He says what's on his mind even when it's not pretty. He speaks in tongues and has been accused of rape in a case of mistaken identity. He bums rides. He asks for money.

People describe Bob as a stinky little troll; a hideous visage; in the way; a tax we have to pay; repulsive; filthy; and subject to raging outbursts.

Bob lives in a group home on Reiger Street in a house for convicted criminals because that's what he can afford. He gets $60 every Friday for food and other living expenses. His apartment gets cleaned every six months, which means hauling everything out in large black trash bags.

Official medical documents declare that Bob is mildly retarded due to head trauma he suffered when he fell out of a highchair at age 1. Family Pastor David Wells of Nashua, New Hampshire, recounts family reports of his mother whacking him in the head with a frying pan. Or there is the story about the car accident that killed his biological father in 1955. Bob, age 3 at the time, might have been along for that fatal ride. Metal plates were put in his head and later removed, and Bob has a v-shaped scar above his right ear as a lasting reminder of the violence that maimed him.

But Bob loves people. He doesn't know a stranger. We see him at The Pocket Sandwich Theater, where he's created a family of sorts and works for food and company. We see him at the dry cleaner's next door, catching up with John Wang. And a few doors down at Whole Earth Provisions, he's telling jokes and entertaining customers and employees.

Bob is not afraid of people. But he should be.

"He came into the world a beautiful baby but was maltreated from the start," his paternal grandmother wrote in a letter. "During the first year of his life, he suffered many injuries all due to neglect."

Neglect and abuse. His mother locked him in closets; tied him up and threw him in a tub of bleach water to sleep because he wet his bed. And then she dumped him at Laconia State School for the Feeble-Minded at age 8. She never returned to see him again.

"My mother I really never got to know - other than her tying me up in a bathtub, my hands tied behind my back," Bob says.

Continued >>

Produced by:

Sebastian Lee, Lisa Johnson, Heather Lee

Directed by:

Lisa Johnson, Sebastian Lee
Cinematography by Sebastian Lee
Written & Edited by Heather Lee

Work on a full-length film documenting the life story of Robert T. Crawford is in progress. The project was born in 2004, when the interviewing and filming of Bob began. More than 70 hours of footage have been shot and are currently being screened and edited while the filmmakers seek funding for film and sound editing. Featured here is the treatment for the film along with a 10-minute video that represents 1 of 10 chapters in the story.

If you would like to make a donation to the documentary film His Name Is Bob, please click the link below.

Artist Josh Strey Q&A with Bob Q: What do you think is going to happen when you go to Hollywood? A: At least I can tell my life story. I can be happy. And I don't have to run down from anybody because of the law. Q: Who do you want to meet in Hollywood? A: Probably anybody that wants to take my movie. I don't care. It didn't matter in Jesus' eyes when they took his life upon that cross, why should it matter to me? I want to be like him. Fear no people, you fear no death. Q: Why do you want to be famous? A: The reason I want to be famous is to let people know I don't have to be afraid of where my next breath is gonna come from. I want to be famous because other people are famous; not because of the money. Not because of the....I just wanted some joy and truth and the knowledge of his grace to come out of me. That's the only thing I see famous in me. Not because of bloodshed, not because of war, not because of people dying every day. Give me the sense of peace and a piece of sense of serenity and being more supreme. There's where you find courage instead of discouragement. Why do we have so much war today? Because people have not come to the knowledge that they are supposed to love one another, not hate and destroy and kill one another like we see every day in America. Robert T. Crawford, Feb. 2006

Continued Bob is slow. But among the idiosyncrasies that characterize him is this idiot savant behavior that includes a knack for remembering phone numbers and names from 30 years ago; an ability to quote scripture he first learned as a child; and something of a musical talent with his portable keyboard that includes a repertoire of songs ranging from "You Are My Sunshine" to "Amazing Grace." It was the darkest time of Bob's childhood that he found this gift of music, learning to play under the guidance of a janitor at Laconia State School. Bob remained under the state institution's care until he was in his early 20s. He visited the school in 2006 at age 54. It's a state prison now. Abandoned and vacant buildings are littered with old furniture, hats and mittens and the paint is peeling off the walls. We see Bob tour the Baker and Felker residences where he lived, at moments unable to express the pain evident on his face. "I just can't go through with this," he says as he exits the building. Punishment for misbehavior at the school included food deprivation; cold showers; being forced to stand outside in the cold with little or no clothes; being hit on the head with a board; and being pushed and prodded with sharp objects. Bob Johnson of Laconia, New Hampshire, worked at the state school before it was closed in 1991 due in part to a class action lawsuit. One of his first days on the job he witnessed another worker take a bat, wrap it with towels and commence to swing away at drugged up clients as they milled around one of the rooms -- just because. It's a miracle, he says, that Bob survived and had the strength to endure the years he spent there. Bob was discharged from Laconia State School in 1977 at age 25. From there he drifted. He spent time in Nashua, where he had family. Then he lived in Massachusetts and hooked up with the African Methodist Episcopal Church where he was an evangelist and played the organ. Working with the AME Church brought Bob to California in the mid-80s. Around this time, the death of his mother reunited Bob with his estranged siblings. But it wasn't long before history had a chance to repeat itself - except this time Bob was close to 40 years old instead of 8 and he was left to fend for himself on a street corner in Dallas instead of a state institution in New Hampshire. Bob has no job, no car, no normal life. He has never been in love or had children and his own youth was severely limited by the structure of the institution in which he lived. As Bob says, "There are two kinds of people - ones that live in peace and ones that don't. There are worse off people than I am." The experiences he's had say he should live in fear. But he doesn't. Some people say Bob is God. They describe his childlike innocence; a man of purity who is not bound by society's ideas; an acid test for the rest of us; a teacher. "Bob's closer to the angels than a lot of us," says Brad Houser from The New Bohemians. "Anyone who's met him is not likely to forget him."

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