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Jimmy Carpenter was sitting at his desk at his new house in New Orleans when he got the call.

Billy Ransom Hobbs. Dead.

Carpenter couldn't believe it. He called many of his old musician friends in Greensboro, his hometown, to see if it was really true. It was. His friend, his mentor, his old musical partner from Tate Street. Gone.

Even today, five months after Hobbs' death, it's still tough for Carpenter to comprehend.

It's the way Hobbs died that shocks Carpenter.

Maybe you remember. Local nighthounds sure do.

It was a Saturday morning, Sept. 13. Hobbs was staying with a female friend, who was grappling with the heartache of a deteriorating relationship. There, in her Summit Avenue apartment, they were beaten and left for dead.

His friend barely survived. Hobbs, 58, didn't. His body was found in the ashes of a fire that destroyed a first-floor apartment inside Greensboro's stone-and-turret house known as "The Castle.''

There have been no arrests.

Carpenter, a talented sax man, discovered his muse in Greensboro. He picked up the saxophone as a fifth-grader, played in the school bands at Kiser Middle and Grimsley High and went on to UNCG before the road lured him away.

Hobbs was one of Carpenter's teachers. And Carpenter felt helpless when he heard about his death.

But not for long.

Carpenter had been working on his first solo release for nearly a year. He had brought in many of his musician friends from New Orleans and recorded nine tunes, steeped in the rhythms of Latin groove and brassy Louisiana soul.

He decided to name his CD for one of his favorite phrases: "I've been toiling in obscurity."

It's something he often tells folks when they asked about his career before he joined Jimmy Thackery, an accomplished guitarist on America's blues scene.

Before touring with Thackery, bluesman Tinsley Ellis and New Orleans legend Walter "Wolfman'' Washington, Carpenter anchored the stage from Vermont to Key West with Greensboro's The Alka-Phonics.

And before The Alka-Phonics, Carpenter hung close with Hobbs.

They met along Tate Street in the late 1970s. Carpenter was in his early 20s when Hobbs, a few years older than Carpenter, took the young musician under his wing.

Hobbs taught Carpenter some nightlife lessons. Like eat something before you swim in alcohol. But he also taught Carpenter some life lessons about the beauty you can find in your music and your neighbor.

They played together, along Tate Street, in the Little Alfred Band.

So, when Carpenter was finishing the first solo release of his quarter-century career, he knew what to do.

It's sixteen words. You find it just inside the jacket of "Toiling In Obscurity,'' which he released last month.

Dedicated to the memory of Billy Ransom Hobbs, a true friend to me and countless others.

"I was really hurt by it,'' says Carpenter, 49, from New Orleans, his city since February 2004. "It was a long time ago when I was hanging on Tate Street. But I don't think everybody back then appreciated the level of creativity and the vibe going on there.

"There were some amazing musicians and artists and just characters hanging down there,'' he says. "And it was a major part of what made me who I am now. And Billy was a big part of that.''

Contact Jeri Rowe at 373-7374 or jeri.rowe@news-record.com