William Louis Bollinger was 9 and shy when his music teacher, Mr. Collins, convinced him to sing a duet with a sweet-voiced girl in front of the entire John S. Cobb School.

"I was scared to death," he recalls.

Now 58, it's been a long time since Willie Bollinger was shy about singing in front of people.

"When they starting talking money, my shyness left," he says through a laugh.

But anyone who has heard the honey-toned voice and the reverence for music that drives it knows Bollinger hasn't spent the past 50 years singing for the money.

He grew up singing in gospel groups. When he came out of the Army in 1953, Bollinger knew he was either going to be a boxer or a singer. He'd won three division titles in the Army, but singing won his heart.

His first single was "I Believe in You" for Majestic Records in Memphis. For a while he worked with Sam Phillips, Elvis Presley's producer.

Phillips wanted Bollinger to sing in a country style "I couldn't handle it" and wanted him to move to Memphis.

"I couldn't do it," he said. "I never wanted to depend on my voice for a living."

Bollinger couldn't give up the security of his day job, first with the city and later with Union Electric. He is a foreman with the utility company today.

But he kept singing here and there. He performed with Sam and Dave at Houck Field House in 1955, and with Ernie K. Doe of "Mother-in-Law" fame in New Orleans.

During one period when his day job was collecting garbage, he became famous along his route for his early morning vocalizing.

"I was the singing garbage man to people I knew on my route," Bollinger said. "To tell you the truth, I didn't care too much for that `singing garbage man' bit."

During the mid-'60s, he recorded a bit and was the lead singer for some bands composed of college students. Bollinger formed his own band, Willie and the Challengers, in 1969. They practiced for six months before he decided to take a leave of absence from his job and hit the road.

Within the same year, they were playing Carnegie Hall in a revue with other soul acts. In 1971, they warmed up for James Brown at the Memphis Coliseum. They were on another show with comedienne Moms Mabley before 4,500 people in Evansville.

The thrill of his performing life has been a show with the Impressions, Billy Preston and Nancy Wilson at a fancy club in Chicago in 1972.

As he describes the band rising from a platform beneath the stage, his eyes say, "That's entertainment."

Audiences love Bollinger. It's partly because he's willing to sing almost any kind of song for them. Partly because he owns any Motown song he touches and audiences love Motown.

But mostly because he so obviously loves entertaining them.

He puts it simply: "I sing for people. I don't sing for me."

If that means singing "My Girl" four times a night, well, that's an easy night.

Invariably, people call out "Sing it, Willie."

It's fair to say that women members of the audience have always been especially enamored of Bollinger's good looks and cooing entreaties. For a lot of years now, he's been telling the aggressive ones he's a happily married family man.

"You have girls come up and want to hug you. You let them get close as a fan," Bollinger said. "That's where it stops."

Bollinger met Sheila, his second wife, in the mid-'70s. She was one of many women surrounding him in the bar at the old Colony Club, but she was different. "She hated me," he says.

Sheila, a nurse, thought he was macho and egotistical. "If I walked by her table it would make her mad."

Yes, it sounds like a scene from a movie. Yes, they were married that same year.

They have two children, William Jr., a 13-year-old basketball and saxophone player at Central Junior High School, and Leslie, an 8-year-old student at Clippard School. She plays the piano.

Clothes have always played an important part in Bollinger's act. His band may be wearing T-shirts and jeans, but he'll take the stage in a purple shirt made of velvet and silk.

The large basement closet in his home on Rodney Vista Drive is lined with expensive outfits purchased at specialty shops along his musical travels. Ruffled shirts in a rainbow of hues, shark-skin suits, a green jumpsuit, a white rabbit and velvet fur, a beaver coat.

"A musician has to be this way," Bollinger said. "You represent your town."

The Challengers broke up in 1972 when the guitar player, Flynn Phillips, joined the service. Afterward, Bollinger fronted a succession of Cape Girardeau Bands: the Soul Express; God, Mother & Country; Pruf; the Small Society; Legend.

Some were very popular at the Perryville Knights of Columbus Hall and fraternity parties. Others worked five nights a week across the river at the Colony Club before it burned down. Bollinger would finish singing at 4 a.m. and be at his day job three hours later.

All had one thing in common: Bollinger was the primary source of their popularity.

For 12 years after Sheila and the family came along, Bollinger didn't play music at all.

Then came an emergency call from the Blues All Stars, who weren't exactly pulling a crowd into the River City Yacht Club.

Bollinger suddenly was back in the music business on weekends, and went along when the band moved over to Griffin's.

The group, which now includes Steve Pirtle, Tom Bloodworth, Al McFerron and Greg Shivelbine, has had a successful two-year run, but Jan. 30 will be its last stand at the bar and eatery.

Bollinger is ready for another break. "I'm burned out on it a little bit," he says.

He wants to be able to make weekend plans with his family. "I love the fans. They're great," he says. "But when it comes to family, you've got to make a choice."