And
in the streets: the children screamed,
The
lovers cried, and the poets dreamed.
But
not a word was spoken;
The
church bells all were broken.
And
the three men I admire most:
The
father, son, and the holy ghost,
They
caught the last train for the coast
The
day the music died.
Don
McLean
If
people are not screaming in the streets (and maybe they should be), they are
surely screaming on TV.
There
is plenty of bad news, though not as many people find it on the doorstep. Those
of us who still want to get the news from a newspaper are much more likely to
find it at the end of the driveway. But I am not focused on current events right
now. I am thinking about music rather than the famous memo.
And
I am thinking about the past rather than the present.
Buddy Holly, Richie Valens, and J. P. Richardson (the Big Bopper) died fifty-nine years ago today in a plane crash near Clear Lake, Iowa.
They were on a tour called "The Winter Dance Party," which was scheduled to cover two dozen Midwestern cities in three weeks. The logistical challenges of transporting several bands by bus to so many cities in such a short time were significant. When they got to Clear Lake, Holly suggested to his band mates that they charter a plane to take them to the next stop in Moorhead, Minnesota.
They made arrangements for a 21 year-old local pilot, Roger Peterson, to fly them in a 1947 Beechcraft Bonanza. The plane seated three passengers in addition to the pilot. Because he had developed a case of the flu, Richardson asked Waylon Jennings if he would agree to give up his seat on the plane. When Holly heard about it, he told Jennings he hoped the “ol’ bus freezes up,” and Jennings responded in jest, "Well, I hope your ol' plane crashes". Those words would haunt Waylon Jennings for the rest of his life.
The plane crashed shortly after take-off, caused by a combination of bad weather and pilot error. Because he was unfamiliar with the instruments in the Beechcraft, the young pilot may have thought the plane was ascending when it was actually going down.
I was too young to really notice when it happened. I was not old enough to care about Rock and Roll. But I feel a melancholy sadness looking back.
The music didn’t really die. In fact, you can argue that it got better. But I cannot listen to Buddy Holly without thinking that something wonderful was lost. The music was special.
On this day I am reminded (if I need reminding) that life is fragile and precious, and that every day is a gift.
Buddy Holly, Richie Valens, and J. P. Richardson (the Big Bopper) died fifty-nine years ago today in a plane crash near Clear Lake, Iowa.
They were on a tour called "The Winter Dance Party," which was scheduled to cover two dozen Midwestern cities in three weeks. The logistical challenges of transporting several bands by bus to so many cities in such a short time were significant. When they got to Clear Lake, Holly suggested to his band mates that they charter a plane to take them to the next stop in Moorhead, Minnesota.
They made arrangements for a 21 year-old local pilot, Roger Peterson, to fly them in a 1947 Beechcraft Bonanza. The plane seated three passengers in addition to the pilot. Because he had developed a case of the flu, Richardson asked Waylon Jennings if he would agree to give up his seat on the plane. When Holly heard about it, he told Jennings he hoped the “ol’ bus freezes up,” and Jennings responded in jest, "Well, I hope your ol' plane crashes". Those words would haunt Waylon Jennings for the rest of his life.
The plane crashed shortly after take-off, caused by a combination of bad weather and pilot error. Because he was unfamiliar with the instruments in the Beechcraft, the young pilot may have thought the plane was ascending when it was actually going down.
I was too young to really notice when it happened. I was not old enough to care about Rock and Roll. But I feel a melancholy sadness looking back.
The music didn’t really die. In fact, you can argue that it got better. But I cannot listen to Buddy Holly without thinking that something wonderful was lost. The music was special.
On this day I am reminded (if I need reminding) that life is fragile and precious, and that every day is a gift.
Everyday
it's a gettin' closer,
Goin'
faster than a roller coaster,
Love
like yours will surely come my way,
hey,
hey,
hey,
Thank you for reading. Your thoughts and comments are always
welcome. Please feel free to share on social media as you wish.
*The original version of this post was first published on February 3. 2011
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