Posted on

In Memoriam: Bob Gleason

In Memoriam: Bob Gleason

January 13, 1946 – January 29, 2025

by Chuck Moore, David Lawrence, Nathan Ching, Tom Braverman, and Woodley White

Originally published in American Lutherie #155, 2025

Bob Gleason at the 1998 GAL Convention in Tacoma. Photo by John Leach.

The music world lost a true artisan with the passing of Robert “Bob” Thomas Gleason on January 29, 2025, at his home in Kurtistown, Hawaii. At 79, Bob left behind a remarkable legacy as the founder of Pegasus Guitars & Ukuleles and a beloved figure in the luthier community. Born in San Francisco, California, Bob’s life was defined by his passion for crafting instruments that brought joy to musicians worldwide.

Bob Gleason was more than a luthier; he was a cornerstone of the Big Island’s musical and woodworking communities. As the owner of Pegasus Guitars & Ukuleles, he handcrafted instruments renowned for their quality and playability, each one a testament to his meticulous skill and deep love for music. His expertise extended to Hilo Strings, where he contributed to the craft of ukulele and guitar strings, enhancing the sound of countless performances. A 45-year member of the Guild of American Luthiers, Bob was a past presenter at Guild conventions and a contributor to Guild publications, sharing his knowledge with generations of instrument makers. His leadership as past president of the Big Island Ukulele Guild and Big Island Woodworkers Association further cemented his influence, fostering a community of creativity and craftsmanship.

Beyond his professional achievements, Bob was an avid tennis player and a warm presence in Kurtistown, Hawaii, where he lived until his final days. His dedication to his craft and community touched countless lives, from musicians strumming his instruments to fellow luthiers inspired by his work. Despite his accomplishments as a luthier, Bob also remained an avid student, striving to perfect his craft until the very end of his life.

Bob’s passing marked the end of an era, but his instruments continue to sing, carrying his spirit in every note. Those wishing to honor Bob’s memory are encouraged to support local luthiers or play a tune on a Pegasus guitar or ukulele, keeping his passion alive. Rest in Aloha, Bob Gleason — your craftsmanship will resonate for years to come.

Chuck Moore


I knew and worked with Bob Gleason for many years. We went to 9,000 ft. on Mauna Kea to cut koa together. My favorite, almost-weekly phone call was to Bob regarding wood, or people, or tools. Usually he had bought at least three of the same tool, and had already decided that it worked (or didn’t), and we would talk of the future and what we could do better.

We spent time on Kauai for several years with Paul Arrington, Woodley, Edmond Tavares, and several others. Bob was the last one of our small group of luthiers I expected to leave us so soon. I miss his phone calls. I have started to call him about something, only to realize that he is gone.

David Lawrence


I recall first meeting Bob at one of the GAL Conventions in the 1990s. I attended one of his workshops and found it very informative. Bob seemed very approachable and free to share his vast knowledge. This was invaluable to me as a new luthier. We exchanged information and kept in touch.

Shortly after, I visited him at his shop on the Big Island. Those were the days before using GPS on phones, so I had to follow instructions on paper to get to his house/shop well off the beaten path.

I was very impressed by his operation and further encouraged in this new “second career” of mine. I tracked a lot of his career after that because I appreciated his approach to lutherie (not too much math, not too much science).

I soon started purchasing materials from him through his website. I continued purchasing until he retired that business. He curated the site so he could answer every question about everything he sold.

I will miss him.

Aloha ‘Oe (farewell to thee), Bob.

Nathan Ching


In today’s world, we see few individuals who have really found their niche. Bob did! He was passionate about making instruments and showing others just how to do it, and his interactions were informative and sincere.

Thank you, Bob.

Tom Braverman


I met Bob Gleason at a GAL Convention in Tacoma nearly twenty years ago. He was presenting a workshop class on ukulele building and scale length. My wife and I were moving to Hawaii, and Bob invited me to a Big Island Ukulele Guild meeting at his home in Mountain View. Bob lived with his wife, Anne, in the wonderful home they had constructed. The shop is way bigger than the house, and surrounded with by all kinds of plants and flowers.

Bob was one of the most giving, kind, and generous persons I have ever known. He was shaped by his experiences in Vietnam and the loss of his first wife. After she died, he raised Robin, their son, as a single Dad. Robin went to Roberto-Venn School of Luthiery, became a builder and repair person, and now has children and works as a firefighter in Hilo. After Bob moved to Hawaii from Washington, he met Anne. Bob and Anne ran Hilo Strings and Pegasus Guitars together, and they had a daughter, Le’a.

Bob and Anne are strict vegetarians and I remember Bob saying that he just doesn’t like killing things. They both played tennis competitively and they loved watching all the major tennis tournaments on TV. They always had big dogs which they walked every day. They also took classes on music theory and playing ukulele from Andy Andrews who leads the Puna Ukulele Kanikapila Association.

I remember Bob saying that having long hair always meant something to him. It was more than a symbol. He took lutherie seriously and he was willing to try new approaches to instrument making, but his preference was for traditional woodworking. For example, he was an avid dovetail-neck-joint guy. He used to say that he hated bolt-on necks and that the dovetail was the only real bit of woodworking in a guitar or ukulele.

He loved beautiful koa and he used to go up Mauna Loa with his friend and sawyer, Jay Warner, and cut koa logs. He also sold ukulele sets of koa, mango, and other Hawaiian woods. At one point he got rid of his rosewood and ebony, and made instruments out of native Hawaiian woods out of respect for the Hawaiian culture. He was a careful builder and he did amazing work. He was a great teacher and was devoted to the Big Island Ukulele Guild.

He taught us how to tie bindings on with huge rubber bands and he helped us make tools to join plates. He told me about a time when Robert Ruck showed up one Christmas, and they built a classical guitar together in one week. Le’a still has that guitar.

Politically, he was an avid liberal and the recent big-money politics of our country drove him crazy. He and I attended a class in Indiana with Grit Laskin on inlay. He hated CNC machines, and he was quite talented at doing hand inlay. He had integrity and he was straightforward in telling you what he thought about things. After his brain injury, he was in the hospital a long time, and then he went home and the family called hospice. Friends gathered to show their love and friendship as he was in and out of consciousness. He was able to sit up and talk and interact, but he was confused as well.

I really miss him. He occupied such a wonderful space in this universe and his life shined a light on what is important and what is fantastic about friendship, music, and instrument making. With gratitude I say, “Aloha, Bob Gleason.”

Woodley White

Posted on

In Memoriam: Jonathon Peterson

In Memoriam: Jonathon Peterson

March 14, 1953 – February 15, 2022

by GAL Staff, Jeffrey R. Elliott, Cyndy Burton, and Woodley White

Originally published in American Lutherie #145, 2021

 

We were very sad when we learned that former longtime GAL Staffer Jonathon Peterson had passed away suddenly. If you’ve been a member a while, or if you have attended any GAL Conventions in the last few decades, you’ll remember Jon as the guy behind the camera and the author of many articles in American Lutherie. Jon worked for the Guild from 1987 until 2011. He started out doing clerical tasks and darkroom work, and through years of on-the-job training and experience, became a prolific writer and photographer for the Guild. He made many personal connections with the luthiers he interviewed for our “Meet the Maker” articles, and was one of the regulars at the NW Handmade Musical Instrument Exhibit in Portland. Probably Jon’s most notable accomplishment during his more than two decades with the Guild was photographing and documenting Robert Lundberg’s lute-building process over the course of several years. The articles produced through the collaboration of Bob and Jon eventually resulted in the Guild’s book, Historical Lute Construction, the premier book on the subject. Rest in peace, Jon.

— GAL Staff

At the 2006 Convention. Photo by Robert Desmond.
At the 2008 Convention. Photo by Hap Newsom.

Jon Peterson excelled as a husband, a father, a friend, a luthier, a 6´4˝ dancer, a photographer, a writer, a story teller, a collector of vinyl records and bicycles, and a cyclist extraordinaire among other talents. What stands out for me is that Jon always seemed to have a certain calm about him. It has been there the entire forty-five years I have known him, ever since the 1977 GAL Convention, where we camped out in a teepee pitched in the backyard of Jon’s in-laws. I came to know and love this kind, gentle, and compassionate man, who seemed to easily roll with whatever life threw at him. He had a kind of knowing way about him, as if his understanding of the bigger picture was in tune with the universe, and he was at peace with it. I’ll miss him dearly.

— Jeffrey R. Elliott

 

Ever since he died, I’ve been thinking about Jon and all the years that have seemingly slipped by since the 1980 GAL Convention in San Francisco. For reasons I don’t know, I hear him saying, “Don’t trouble trouble till trouble troubles you.” I know Jon’s life was not without troubles, and yet he inspired people to be better partly by his example and more than anything, his warmth and empathy. He had the ability to convey acceptance and encouragement. Our paths crossed at Conventions, in our work for the GAL, and in our living room and at the kitchen table. His GAL work included luthier interviews and many other articles that provided and continue to provide a bounty of useful information to share with the readers of American Lutherie along with many of the books the GAL has published, particularly Jon’s direct work with Robert Lundberg on the Historical Lute Construction book.

I’d like to think that Jon is somewhere admiring the enormity of the great unknown and has, of course, already made friends with other sentient beings.

— Cyndy Burton

Jon Peterson at the 1980 GAL Convention. Photo by Dale Korsmo.

We who work with wood, almost automatically sense that we are engulfed in a thick orchestration of life and death. Fresh green things sprout beside the decay of fallen giants. The mulch of generations of leaves and branches fertilizes every manner of plant, fungus, tree, flower, or spider. Life emerges from death, and death from life, at every turn in the trail. It feels as if the earth is absolutely incapable of not producing life at every opportunity. The constancy of it, the relentless expansion and contraction of life and death is so insistently miraculous that we only become more and more quiet in the presence of this endless cycle.

Such is our life. We are born, we live a while, and then we die. It’s true of every living thing. Taken at face value, it makes us seem so small, or insignificant. In the midst of such impermanence, how can our meager, individual lives possibly achieve any real meaning? All beings live and die; billions of lives on earth arise and pass away. Whole worlds are born and then destroyed. Entire galaxies come into being and then dissolve. What possible value can a single, modest human life have in this breathtaking cacophony of life and death?

When I think of my friend, Jon Peterson, I want to say, “the value of a single life shines brightly.” A single rose, a single star, a single note of sweet music played at the right moment — these are things of great beauty and wonder. All that we do becomes embedded in the whole; because of this, our every day — our every word, every act of kindness, love, or beauty — is an invaluable opportunity to contribute to the growth and beauty of all things. With our single life, we change the shape of the universe. With his single life, Jonathon has changed the shape of our world.

I really loved my friend and I will miss him. I loved his dry sense of humor, the crinkle in the corner of his mouth when he smiled; his pony tail; the sparkle in his eyes. I loved his thoughtfulness. I was surprised when he rode his bicycle down from Tacoma to Portland with his son and then all over Portland. I loved his appreciation for life and for love and for guitar making and his place in this universe, his generosity, his commitment. I remember asking if he thought I could handle a guitar repair one day and he said, ”That all depends on how skilled you are with a scraper.” That comment sticks with me twenty-five years later.

One time we were at Jeff and Cyndy’s house with Jim Kline evaluating two sister guitars I had made and we were talking about what we thought of them and Jon interrupted and said, “I disagree with you. The guitar with the stronger trebles will become the better instrument over time as the midrange and bass open up.” He wasn’t shy about expressing his opinion.

In the shadow of his death, we ask ourselves, how will we live? How will we let the gentle, loving strength of his life color ours? A clear perception of death invites us to consider our life as something worth living; an active, creative, passionate event. Life is impermanent. It is precisely because of its impermanence that we should value it dearly. I am thankful for his life and for all the friends I have made in the GAL universe.

— Woodley White