The day the music died

Today it is 50 years ago 'the music died'... Just had to mention it here...

another demo Slippin and Slidin' the fast version



"Buddy Holly recorded this Demo (the fast version) in his New Yorker Apartment in January 1959, weeks before his death, as a demo. It was overdubbed in 1968 and released the next year on the GIANT LP. "

Peggy Sue got where?

Buddy Holly

Buddy Holly died 50 years ago, but his music lives on, including his hit Peggy Sue. But who was it about and what's it like to be immortalised in a popular song? Caroline Frost meets the real Peggy Sue.

Fifty years ago today the music died, according to Don McLean at least - the day when Buddy Holly was killed in an aeroplane crash at the peak of his talents and passed into rock 'n' roll legend.

In the half-century since, as well as inspiring McLean's thumping standard American Pie, Holly has been recognised as one of popular music's great pioneers, his influence felt by everyone from Bob Dylan to the Beatles and Run-DMC. For one woman in particular, though, he's remained especially close.

WHO WAS PEGGY SUE FOR?
Jerry Allison and Peggy Sue Gerron
It's widely claimed Holly originally wrote song as Cindy Lou, and...
Jerry Allison (pictured above with Peggy Sue Gerron on their wedding day) asked Holly to change it to Peggy Sue, says John Gribbin
Allison had split up with Peggy Sue Gerron and thought the move would help him win her back, it's claimed
However, Ms Gerron denies the claim

Peggy Sue Gerron, a sweet-faced woman of 68, is an unlikely piece of walking rock 'n' roll memorabilia. But in 1957, she was the girlfriend of Holly's best pal, Jerry Allison, and so became the inspiration for the singer's jiving classic.

Today, Ms Gerron smiles and plays down her role of musical muse, when asked.

"I think he decided he was going to write a girl's song, and sometime during the middle of the night he got Norman Petty, the producer, and he told him, 'I've written this song and I've named it after Jerry's girlfriend, Peggy Sue'."

Holly was already a radio star when she first encountered him. In a scene that could have come straight from a movie, Holly was rushing to a high school gig in Sacramento, California, when he sent a young Ms Gerron flying on the steps.

"He ran over to me, guitar in one hand, amp in the other, and said, 'I don't have time to pick you up, but you sure are pretty', before he ran off. So another girl came and helped me pick up my books and she said, 'Do you know who that was? That was Buddy Holly.'

Three weeks later, Ms Gerron was on a date with her future husband Jerry Allison - a drummer in Holly's group The Crickets - who introduced her to his friend Buddy, "and he started laughing, Jerry asked him what was so funny, and he said 'I've already overwhelmed your Peggy Sue.'"

Still a teenager, Peggy Sue first heard the song written for her in a packed school auditorium in the company of hundreds of screaming teenagers, and Holly hadn't let her down.

Deceptively simple

"I was just delighted, I thought it was a fascinating song. It's really hard to stand still when you're listening to Peggy Sue."

PEGGY SUE LYRICS
Peggy Sue
Peggy Sue, Peggy Sue
Pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, Peggy Sue
Oh, my Peggy, my Peggy Sue
Oh, well, I love you gal and I need you, Peggy Sue
Peggy Sue, by Buddy Holly, Jerry Allison and Norman Petty

The song stands as one of Holly's classics - "right up at the top" according to John Gribbin, author of the recent book Not Fade Away: The Life and Music of Buddy Holly.

"It's like most Buddy Holly songs," he says of the two-minute, 30-second classic. "They are deceptively simple. He wrote songs that are easy to play, easy to listen to and to dance to. He knew that would spread the word about his music."

But Holly's huge success came to an abrupt end on 3 February 1959, when he died, aged 22, in a plane crash while on tour. The news of the accident that killed Holly and fellow musicians Richie Valens and the Big Bopper only 18 months later was as shocking to the Allisons - Peggy Sue had married Jerry in 1958 - as to everyone else. Jerry Allison had quit the band before Holly's last tour and the couple were staying with Holly's parents.

"Somebody called the house and told us the Crickets were dead, so Jerry made some calls," remembers Ms Gerron. "It turned out Mr and Mrs Holly didn't know, they actually heard about it on the radio."

Holly's premature death did nothing to stem his popularity, with songs such as Peggy Sue, Not Fade Away, Maybe Baby and That'll Be the Day becoming enduring classics. Ms Gerron has long been used to hearing her name sung in the car, the supermarket, the lift. She's also adept at dealing with the question left dangling in the air whenever she meets someone new.

Prom dress

"I'm introduced, and there's a pause, and they say, 'Oh, are you...?' and I say 'Yes, I'm Peggy Sue.'"

Peggy Sue Gerron
When you are raising children you want them to be secure and normal and you don't want the entertainment industry in their lives
Peggy Sue Gerron, pictured today

Despite the kick it evidently still gives her, she is not blind to the preconceptions that can come with such a celebrated moniker.

"People have their own image of who you are and what you are. I think certain people expect things of me, that no one else would be called upon to do. They look at me and go, well she can afford to do that, and that's not always accurate."

They also sometimes are wrong-footed by the sight of a grandmother in her late 60s - somehow expecting the subject of this half-century-old teenage love song to be preserved in a polka-dot prom dress.

"I think they have me frozen in time, I think when most people think of me, it's as a young woman frozen in an era that has long passed. But it hasn't limited me. You have to be you, and I couldn't stand up and say, well, no, that's not me."

The song has certainly afforded Ms Gerron rare opportunities in life.

"Yeah, it's allowed me to meet people and do things I wouldn't otherwise. Dick Clark [the US TV chat show host] calls for me to come over and do the show... that doesn't happen to Jane Doe."

Yet there was a big part of her life when she didn't play up to the reputation as Buddy Holly's Peggy Sue - as wife to her second husband (her first marriage, to Allison, broke up), mother to their two children and business partner in the couple's small plumbing business in California. For a long time the children knew little of their mother's past.

WHAT MAKES IT UNUSUAL?
The song features Holly's combined rhythm/lead guitar style
Holly had someone stand by to flick a switch on his Fender Stratocaster mid-way through when the guitar tone changes
"Normally a guitarist would do that himself," says John Gribbin. "But this is played so fast Holly hadn't the time to reach down."

"I didn't want them to think that we were different, that we had an edge. When you are raising children you want them to be secure and normal and you don't want the entertainment industry in their lives."

And serious Holly fans will know Ms Gerron's name appears in not one, but two, song titles by their idol - the other being, Peggy Sue Got Married. Striking a more melancholy note than its predecessor, it was recorded by Holly on a home tape recorder in 1958 and only heard after Holly's death.

Today Ms Gerron makes the most of her footnote role in pop history. Last year she published an autobiography, Whatever Happened to Peggy Sue?, and she will be marking the 50th anniversary of Holly's death as a guest of honour at the opening of the Buddy musical in Melbourne Australia.

So, inspiring one of the most famous songs by one of the century's most popular musicians - weighing it all up, is that a burden or a privilege?

Peggy Sue smiles again. "A privilege, always. I never get tired of it."

Add your comments on this story, using the form below.

What a talent. Cut down before his prime. Saddening me even more is the realisation that today, given his "unconventional" appearance and physique, Mr Holly could not emerge as a star in today's entertainment industry - even in contact lenses. Not video friendly, as it were.
William Sherman, Boxford, MA, USA


The rest of the article and a few pics can be seen at the following url;

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/magazine/7861891.stm

As gossipy as Peggy Sue's book is, I do appreciate that it represents a much more personal side of the Buddy Holly story then those written by outsiders. She maintains that much of it was taken from actual diary entries she wrote at the time, so it relies less on aging revisionist memories than other books. It's a very quick read, and worth it if you can find it at a reasonable discount.

I drove up for Monday night's concert at the Surf. What a night! Frostbite never felt so good.

Not knowing the Surf was equipped with a coat check, and even then, not wanting to stop to check my coat in order to get as close to the stage as possible, I waited outside in 4-degree (Farenheit) weather for about 90 minutes prior to the doors opening severely under-dressed for the conditions. Clear Lake is actually located on a lake, so the north winds off the lakefront added to the misery. Although a huge Gibson tour bus blocked that wind for most of my stay. The thing is, there were about 25 people who were waiting ahead of me, many of them well into their 60s, and some of them in poodle skirts! They, at least, had their winter coats, ear muffs, scarves and hats. Me, I had to stand inappropriately close to strange women 25 years my senior. Ah, well. Any port in a storm...

There were plenty of media folk from all over the world granted access to the hall conducting various interviews and shooting footage of the historic interior prior to the doors opening. We pleaded with them to let us in early for an interview, but alas, it was not to be. Eventually, the director of The Surf, crash site landowner Jeff Nicholas, let us in the foyer for the last 15 minutes of our wait.

The Surf's "50 Winters Later" concert was sponsored by the Rock-n-Roll Hall of Fame, which presented the ballroom with a plaque honoring the history of the venue earlier in the week. Surrounding that plaque were seven recently-discovered photos from that final show at Clear Lake: 2 of Buddy Holly, 2 fantastic shots of Ritchie, and a couple of Frankie Sardo and Dion. One photo featuring Dion and the Belmonts showed Buddy at the drums, filling in for Carl Bunch, who left the tour a few nights earlier due to frostbite. What an amazing find! Buddy fans have waited a lifetime to see these. Hopefully, there are more that will be made available to the general public in a book or documentary sometime soon.

Once the doors opened, a veritable stampede rushed through the lobby. Many of them had been there all week for the earlier concerts and had seen every inch of the Surf over the years. I resisted the rubbernecking on this, my first visit, stopping only to pick up a commemorative program on my way to the stage. The Surf's posted capacity is 2100. They said room for a few hundred was sacrificed for the various barriers and cameras for the film crew. I'm guessing they still packed them in. We were just left of the center, where we got a prime view of the guests coming out of the dressing rooms to watch the stage. The first guest I saw was Pat DiNizio of the Smithereens, who just released a Buddy Holly tribute CD featuring a string quartet tuned in Pat's perennial keys of A-flat. Ah, he has no real vocal range, but knows how to rock. A few others mingled early until a gentleman in a white cowboy hat ambled to the steps - Tommy Allsup - Buddy's lead guitarist with the Crickets in the second half of 1958 and the Winter Dance Party tour. The man is royalty in Buddy circles. Depending on whom you believe, it was Tommy who flipped the coin that got Ritchie on the plane. There I was, 20 feet from Tommy Allsup. I couldn't quite cradle my frozen hands around my camera, but already the night was a success even before a note was played.

Opening the show was 1959 Surf emcee Bob Hale. Bob also claims to have flipped the coin. As a former DJ, I'm inclined to believe that DJs tend to avoid letting the truth get in the way of a good story, so I would have to go with Tommy Allsup's version, which has remained unimbellished for decades. Bob seems like an amiable guy - a hybrid of gameshow hosts Bill Cullen and Bob Eubanks (OK, everybody under 40 can come back in the room now). So I felt bad for him when he had to yield the stage to NYC syndicated jock Cousin Brucie Morrow. Brucie's schtick was entertaining enough, but you could tell the Surf regulars and Holly aficionados would rather have had their nostalgia quota filled with the Holly-connected Bob Hale. Maria Elena Holly - Buddy's widow, married to him for all of 5 months and villainized by many Holly-holics over the years, shared the stage with Ritchie Valens' sisters and one of his brothers (Bob-O would make an appearance later) in a ceremonial moment to welcome everyone.

The first musical guest was Kevin Montgomery, son of Bob Montgomery, who was Buddy's first musical collaborator, pre-dating The Crickets by several years. Buddy and Bob's recordings were recently re-released in a rarities collection last week, and are not to be missed. Kevin gave a poignant acoustic rendition of "Wishing." Then, it was on with the house band, featuring Tommy Allsup, Hutch Hutchinson on bass, a helluva Tele picker whose name I think is John Rogers, Bobby Keys (Rolling Stones, John Lennon, George Harrison) on sax, and two former members of the Radiation Ranch - Chuck Leavell on keyboards and Kenny Aronoff on drums. They rocked through their version of "Holly Hop," though it sounded nothing like it and was more of a generic fast 12-bar rocker. From then on, the artists who peppered the stage came through rather quickly, playing 3-4 song sets, usually covering just one or two Buddy songs. Joe Ely, who opened for Stray Cats at the OC Fair last summer, has been to a few of the annual Winter Dance Parties at the Surf, and got the crowd rockin' early with a set that included "Oh, Boy."

There were rumors all week that Sir Paul McCartney would make an appearance, but it was not to be. The only Sir available was Sir Tim Rice, who spoke to Buddy's influence in the UK and introduced the British acts. Peter and Gordon were huge in the mid-60s, but spent nearly 40 years apart while Peter Asher went on to become an enormously successful record producer. He looked like a million bucks. Meanwhile, Gordon Waller looked a bit worse for wear. But their harmonies were as brilliant as ever on " I Go to Pieces," Buddy's "True Love Ways," and the song Peter's sister's then-boyfriend, Paul McCartney, wrote for them, "A World Without Love," featuring a walk-on third harmony by Graham Nash. I love me some purty harmonies, and Peter was genuinely moved, noting that it was the first time ever that song had been performed in three part harmony. It was the closest the crowd would get to a Macca sighting.

My memory of the running order of the show is already fading some 48 hours later, but I believe Wanda Jackson was next. Wanda, of course, made it into the Rock-n-Roll Hall of Fame's class of 2009. She did "Mean, Mean, Man," "Brown-Eyed Handsome Man," and "Let's Have a Party" sounding every bit as raw as that 19-year-old kitten that tore it up more than 50 years ago. It was one of the first real moving moments of the show for me. I think I had spent so much time thinking about Ritchie, the Bopper, and Buddy this past month that the impact of seeing Wanda Jackson 10-15 feet away from me was unexpected.

Next up was Delbert McClinton who sauntered to the stage with a funky New Orleans-influenced version of Chantilly Lace. I dug Check Leavell's easy-rolling Nawlins' piano, and Delbert was one smooth customer, even though I sort of lost his vocals in the mix. I have a feeling this won't make the broadcast version of the show, as the song was covered later on, but if it makes the DVD as a bonus cut, I hope they can boost his sly vocals a bit. Delbert didn't reach too far back in his catalog, performing "Old Weakness" and "Leap of Faith" to end his set.

Because the show was being filmed, I had to duck camera crane arms throughout the show. Someone said the festival had been professionally filmed before, but the footage never aired. Security took turns filtering in various media photographers throughout the show, so I'm hopeful some great photos will surface soon. I took plenty of pics, but none of them approached even average. Still, I may post a few later.

END OF PART 1-A-BILLY

The first, and really only, surprise guest of the evening was Dave Mason. Dave Mason? Really? Apparently, he's a big Buddy fan, but I just didn't see the connection at first. Then he played a nice acoustic version of Well, All Right with that Gordon Lightfoot-esque baritone. I think at that point a few folks were still trying to place just who the heck Dave Mason was, when he launched into an unplugged version of his big hit "We Just Disagree." I could feel a collective "Ahhh" from the 40-60 year olds in the crowd as they finally identified him. Then the house band returned for a rousing version of his composition "Feelin' Alright," which he pointed out, had been prominently featured in the Super Bowl the night before - Joe Cocker's version of course. Chuck Leavell and the whole band was on fire for the tune, with Kevin Montgomery and Delbert McClinton handling backup vocals. It easily received one of the more enthusiastic responses from the crowd.

Tim Rice introduced Graham Nash, who was greeted by the crowd with a birthday serenade. Graham performed "Everyday" 'Think It Over," (with Peter and Gordon) and "Rave On" before closing with "Teach Your Children" featuring Peter and Gordon on harmonies. I remember wishing his set would last longer, but then I realized that Ritchie Valens and the Big Bopper were sorely under-represented thus far in the program.

Before Ritchie and the Bopper got their recognition, there would be a set from The Smithereens' Pat DiNizio. Pat is living rather large, having not missed many meals over the past several decades, but he brought a unique spin on the Holly tribute, bringing a string quartet. He was the only artist to limit his set to Buddy Holly songs, in part because he was promoting his latest release "Pat DiNizio/Buddy Holly," featuring 11 Holly tunes. He performed "Words of Love," (with resident harmonizer Graham Nash) "Listen to Me," "Learning the Game," (where he ran into a little pronoun trouble on the middle eight) and "It Doesn't Matter Anymore."

Bob Hale, who introduced all the acts that fateful night in 1959, took great pleasure in telling the story of how The Big Bopper and he shared their mutual excitement surrounding the impending arrivals of their first-born children. 50 years later, he brought on one of those offspring, JP Richardson Jr., and the Winter Dance Party Band (featuring John Mueller and Sting Ray Anthony, whose Buddy and Ritchie impersonations will thrill you if you get the chance to see them). The band also features former BSO member Mike Acosta on saxophone. Bopper Jr. wore a reasonable facsimilie of "Melvin," the leopard-print coat his father made famous, tearing through "White Lightning," "Running Bear" (which the Bopper wrote for Johnny Preston) and an unfinished tune the lyrics to which the Bopper left behind, "Watching Over You." Jay added a spoken-word lyric about his father to the piece which brought a tear to many eyes in the house and quite a large round of applause. Before closing the show, Bopper Jr. proudly displayed a briefcase belonging to his father which had resided in the Surf's office for 50 years. (It might have been on display - I don't know. It looked like it had been in the plane wreckage.) His voice cracked as he said "Tonight, it's coming home." Then the obilgatory phone call came in. "Helloooo, Baaaaby!" I know he's played the Surf several times over the years, but there were a number of newbees such as myself who thought that was just too damn cool.

Finally, Ritchie Valens got his due. Los Lonely Boys took the stage after a long break. I saw the Marshall amps setting up and I immediately feared for the septegenerians in front me who had forgotten their earplugs. Henry Garza came out with a Ritchie Valens Fender Harmony replica and rocked out to "Framed," before strapping on his Strat for the remainder of the set, which went up to Eleven. While I don't know their catalog as well as Tweedboy 6L6, who is a HUGE LLB fan and was in attendance as well, I can say this. Those Garza boys easily had the most energy by far that night. They tore it up with their musicianship and their showmanship. Henry and Jojo's interplay on stage was fiercely entertaining. They were a huge highlight for me and anyone else who wasn't bothered by their volume level. Their set should have gone longer, and I thought they should have done more Valens tunes, however, they deferred to the elders, Chris Montez and Los Lobos, who were about to take the stage.

Chris Montez, of course, did his early 60s frat boy hit "Let's Dance." But I honestly can't remember if he had his own set or if he just performed within Los Lobos set. In any case, Los Lobos was easily one of the more anticpated acts of the night for their work on the La Bamba soundtrack. Ironically, they have said in several interviews over the years how it bothered them that some people showed up to their concerts over the years expecting a Ritchie Valens tribute band, when they were so much more than that. This night, however, they were exactly that, which is just what the people wanted. "Ooh, My Head," "Come On, Let's Go" "That's My Little Suzie," all to the delight of the Valenzuela family off to the right of the stage. Then Joe Ely joined them for a rocking version of "Are You Listening Lucky" before Chris Montez came out to take lead vocals on "Donna." Then, in another highlight, Los Lonely Boys joined Los Lobos onstage to welcome the Ritchie's brothers and sisters, extended members of the family, and the semi-lucid Maria Elena Holly (who my friend noted "seems to like to be the center of attention,") for a spirited version of "La Bamba."

Sir Tim Rice came out to introduce an American who is loved by fans all over the world, on the 50th Anniversary of the start of his professional career, Bobby Vee. It was Bobby Vee who was among the local Fargo-Moorhead acts asked to fill the slots on the bill left by the loss of the three stars. Months later, Bobby had a recording career, and the rest is history. As he walked on the stage a Bobby fan coaxed me and a few taller folk to hold up her banner wishing him a "Happy 50th Anniversary" (to the start of his career, not to cheer the plane crash) and I felt bad, because Bobby didn't notice it right away, so I'm sure we were annoying the people behind us. But his eyes lit up when they caught that sign. We yanked it down just as the camera cranes were swirling toward us, probably denying us our TV moment. People may associate Bobby with the bouncy bouncy "Rubber Ball" but he also recorded on several occasions with the Crickets over the years and in his set performed a Crickets hit "More Than I Can Say" (which was a bit prophetic considering he had lost most of his voice.) Vee and his family were heavily involved with the production of the entire festival, with his son taking charge of a lot of the stage direction throughout the night, even firing up the crowd during one of the longer set breaks after Cousin Brucie faded away. The Killer Vees had a very tight band, but sadly, Bobby's voice was fadiing and he had to cut his set short. He used DiNizio's strings to accompany him on "The Night Has a Thousand Eyes." The Boomer-laden crowd, 4 1/2 hours into the show, recognized Bobby's voice was cutting out and carried the tune in a moment that noticeably moved Bobby. I could tell the strings were disappointed, as it was obvious they were going to be heavily featured on "Take Good Care of My Baby," but it was not to be.

And with that, The Crickets, featuring Sonny Curtis on vocals and guitar, took the stage. Appropriately enough, theirs was the longest set of the evening, featuring a mix of Crickets songs pre and post-crash, plus a few of Sonny's solo hits. Their set included "Rock Around With Ollie Vee," "Maybe Baby," which sounded a lot like Paul McCartney's cover from a few years back, teasing me for half a second, Sonny's 1960 composition "I Fought the Law," a hit 6 years later for Bobby Fuller, the Jerry Allison hit (as Ivan) "Real Wild Child" - I swear he still sounded just like the record. They played "Love is All Around" the Mary Tyler Moore show theme, also written by Curtis, who joked that the success of this song made it possible for him to drive a Buick. Sonny remarked on the first viewing he had of "the Buddy Holly Story." He actually acknowledged it was a pretty good 'ol rock and roll movie, but there was little about it that was true. That night when he got home, he wrote a song to set the record straight, and then he launched into "The Real Buddy Holly Story." Another moment that brought a tear to my eye was the Crickets' touching rendition of a Holly tune not featuring the Crickets back in 1958, "Raining In My Heart." "It's So Easy" brought some recognition by the Crickets to Tommy Allsup, who performed the guitar break on the record. While Tommy didn't join them on stage just yet, I watched his eyes focus intently on one of the Vee family members as he nailed the solo note-for-note, bringing a broad grin to the man who adorned that very stage 50 years before. Closing the show was "Peggy Sue," "That'll Be the Day," and "Not Fade Away," each song bringing an increasing number of performers to the stage to join in, with the family members returning to join the party.

You could tell the crowd was hoping for an encore, and yet, after 5 1/2 hours, they knew the live music was over. However, Jeff Nicholas, President of the Surf and owner of the site of the plane crash, closed the show by bringing down the lights, reading a few moving words, and then asking for silence as a spotlight projected three stars on the darkened ceiling while Buddy's "True Love Ways" played over the PA.

Individually, I don't know how many of the acts I would have driven 330 miles to see. But collectively, and given the history involved, it was an event not to be missed.

The show was recorded for a future PBS telecast, which I'm sure will be made into a DVD as well. But they'll only hit the highlights of the 5 1/2 hour tribute concert.

Meanwhile, it was 12:30pm, and with the hour approaching the 50th Anniversary of the moment the music died, we headed out toward the frozen cornfield. My buddy and I walked past a newer monument - a very large pair of Holly glasses, probably 4-5 feet across, that marked the site, though it was hidden from the road by a 5-6 foot pile of snow. I had not checked the weather before leaving on the trip, and had forgotten my hat. It was -4 degrees, and the windchill was -27. Still, how often do you get out here for a moment like this? I figured I won't be making the trip at age 90, so we pressed on. The crash memorial is about 1/2 a mile off the road, and I was starting to worry that we'd lose our way, as the fence marking the division between the lots appeared to be missing. Only it was still there, but it was buried under 3-4 foot snowdrifts that had frozen. I nearly found out about that the hard way as my leg dipped deep into the snow as I was apparently straddling the barbed wire. Oops. We saw a fire in the distance, which gave me strength to carry on through the wind. My first thought was that some idiot set the monument on fire. Of course, it was only a bonfire to keep warm, set by the owner of the land for the fans. Then, I noticed vehicles driving across the field. Evidently, the owner had plowed a path to the site that was navigable bu most any vehicle, as several news crew vans were on site. Sonofa.... Anyway, we made it there just after 1am, where Jeff Nicholas, the landowner and Surf Ballroom and Museum President, offered up a prayer and a moment of silence for the cameras. Then, the group, numbering close to 20 people, sang an impromptu version of Don McClean's "American Pie." Of course, at the Crash Site, there really is no such thing as an impromptu version of "American Pie."

I stayed out of the circle or singers, although I have seen the top of my head in the background of a few photos. Spencer, this kid from Clear Lake who couldn't resist adorning a cheesy pair of Buddy glasses joined my pal and I (and perhaps a dozen others) in passing bottles around to toast Buddy, Ritchie, and the Bopper. Several press members huddled around Spencer, taking his picture and interviewing him about the night. It seems without Buddy glasses neither my friend nor I were considered quotable. Of course, judging by this detailed account of the events, they simply would not have had enough film to shoot it, or pens to write it all down.

We started to head back across the field, purposely staggering in front of cars, until a kind group of folks from Boston offered us a ride back to the road. Thank goodness for their generosity. I seriously don't know that I would have made it back. My head hurt so badly on the walk out, that it felt like someone was trying to saw the top of my head off. Even the 30-yard walk from the end of the driveway to where our car was parked seriously tested our endurance. However, the frostbite pumped me with plenty of adrenaline that fueled my 5 1/2 hour drive home.

I'll never forget this trip. It meant more to me than words can express, which is a near impossibility for me.

Of this I am certain: The music definitely didn't die.


Buddy Ritchie Bopper-billy

I have to apologize to Dave Mason. Of course he belonged at The Surf. It turns out he does have a Holly connection. The dirty hippie in me forgot that Dave Mason was in Traffic, with Steve Winwood and Eric Clapton. Not only did they record "Well, All Right," they also recorded the original "Feelin' Alright."

Far Out-a-billy

Rick,

I have to rush off to school - haven't had a chance to read the second post yet. I just wanted to drop a quick note of thanks to you for sharing your experience with us. I've been thinking about Buddy all week, which means I've had this undercurrent of sadness going since about Saturday. I've been looking forward to your account of the concert to pick me up...and it worked!

Thanks,
Bear85

thank you Rick, for your story!!
"had their winter coats, ear muffs, scarves and hats."

boy, it sounded freezing over there, but I bet worth it!

Great story, Rick. Thanks for sharing!

Rickabilly wrote:

Peter and Gordon were huge in the mid-60s, but spent nearly 40 years apart while Peter Asher went on to become an enormously successful record producer. He looked like a million bucks. Meanwhile, Gordon Waller looked a bit worse for wear.

Not indending to derail the thread, but did you know that the late Sharon Sheeley (songwriter/Eddie Cochran's fiancè) was actually engaged to Gordon Waller at one point? I have a radio interview with her on CD (it was broadcast sometime around 89/90 on KBON, Lake Arrowhead, California, and the show was called "Twelve O'clock Rock"), and she tells how Gordon never really wanted to be a star. "Gordon is living on a farm in Wales", she said in the interview, "he's doing what he always wanted to do. But you have to understand that Gordon was the talent of Peter and Gordon. Peter was involved only because Peter's sister, Jane Asher, was enganged, at that time, to Paul McCartney"

So maybe Gordon just looked like a farmer...?

OK, back to the topic, sorry for interrupting...


Anders

Gordon actually looked like an old rockabilly - I saw him off to the side of the stage before the start of the show and tried to guess who he was. Never in a million years would I have guessed Gordon of Peter and Gordon. His singing voice was in fine form.

Who hasn't Sharon Sheeley been engaged to? At best, when Sharon arrived to join Eddie in the UK in 1960, it was reported that they were "unofficially engaged," and not by Eddie. Her song, "Poor Little Fool," was written about a "relationship" she had with then-married Don Everly, though when she stalked Ricky Nelson outside his house, she told him the song was written by her godfather for Elvis Presley. Ricky jumped at the chance to beat Presley to a great song. After he recorded it, she told him she had written it, to which a duped Nelson said "It's not that great of a song anyway." Good enough to get to Number 1, though.

That's a great story about Gordon. He was pretty funny on stage, joking around with Sonny Curtis during the Crickets set, warning him not to tell too many stories about the times he and Sonny hung around in London back in the 60s. I'm sure glad he came out for this festival.

Steering it back to the Three Stars-a-billy

I got teary eyed just reading that, Rick. I would've been a mess had I been there in person. Thank you.

Here is a video shot of Los Lobos, Los Lonely Boys, Chris Montez, and the Valenzuela (Valens) family singing "La Bamba" Monday night. My camera ran out of batteries right before this song, so I was thrilled to find this video. Whomever shot this was just a bit behind me and to the left, so this is basically how I saw it as well. The guy in the cowboy hat is Bob Valenzuela, the brother portrayed by Esai Morales in the movie. Half-brother Mario plays the harmonica, and Maria Elena Holly for some inexplicable reason, felt the need to help introduce them. As I said before, she like being the center of attention.



Valens-billy

Rickabilly wrote:

Who hasn't Sharon Sheeley been engaged to? At best, when Sharon arrived to join Eddie in the UK in 1960, it was reported that they were "unofficially engaged," and not by Eddie.

Well, in the same interview she names Eddie as her only love, so maybe the others didn't quite match him...? Anyway, an English friend of mine actually met, and became friends with, the late Alice Cochran, and she also said that Sharon and Eddie were never really engaged. The only person who could set the record straight, died on April 17, 1960...

Again, back to the REAL topic


Anders