Fifty years ago this Tuesday -- on Feb. 3, 1959 -- three of the then biggest acts in rock 'n' roll were killed in an airplane crash.
Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens and "The Big Bopper" (J.P. Richardson) all died instantly. They were ejected upon impact as an inexperienced pilot got confused in a snowstorm and inadvertently flew his single-engine Beechcraft Bonanza right into the ground -- in a remote corn field near Clear Lake, Iowa.
Such a travesty, such a waste. This was the first time those words were spoken about rock 'n' rollers, but certainly not the last.
It is remembered as "The Day the Music Died," thanks to that famous lyric from Don McLean's classic 1971 ode American Pie.
Holly -- born Charles Hardin Holley -- hailed from Lubbock, Tex. On his own or with his backing band The Crickets, he'd scored a slew of hits since 1957 with That'll Be the Day, Oh! Boy, Maybe Baby, Peggy Sue and It Doesn't Matter Anymore. Today, Holly is remembered as both a ground-breaking songwriter and guitar player for the rock 'n' roll form. Everyone from The Beatles to the Rolling Stones to Bruce Springsteen have listed him as a major influence. He was only 22.
Valens -- born Richard Steven Valenzuela -- was a pioneer of latin rock from Pacoima, Calif. He had just broken big with the hit Donna, which would reach No. 2 on the U.S. charts. Perhaps the song he's most remembered for now, La Bamba, reached only No. 22. He was 17.
The Big Bopper -- born Jiles Perry Richardson Jr. -- was from Sabine Pass, Tex. He'd been a DJ before turning to recording. He was still milking his first big hit, Chantilly Lace, which had reached No. 6 on the U.S. charts. He was only 28.
The fateful trio were taking part in a bus tour of Midwestern cities, along with their backing musicians and one other act -- Dion and the Belmonts. It was dubbed The Winter Dance Party Tour, which, according to the website fiftiesweb.com, visited 24 cities in less than five weeks. Holly was the biggest name, but Valens had the hottest hit with Donna.
The bus they travelled on was old and airy and the interior heater reportedly was busted. By the time they arrived at the Surf Ballroom in Clear Lake, Iowa, on Feb. 2, 1959, they were frozen and had had it with the travelling refrigerator.
After the show, Holly chartered a plane to take he and his backing musicians -- Tommy Allsup and a friend from Lubbock, future country star Waylon Jennings -- to their next stop in Fargo, N.D., some 500 km away.
As the story goes, Allsup flipped a coin with Valens for the right to one of the cramped plane's seats, and Valens won. Jennings felt bad for The Big Bopper, who was battling a fever and felt crammed in the bus, and Jennings voluntarily gave up his seat for him. When Holly found out, he cracked to Jennings, "Well, I hope your old bus freezes up." Jennings good-naturedly shot back, "Well, I hope your plane crashes."
An hour later, it did. Jennings would be haunted by that conversation for decades.
The pilot was Roger Peterson, only 21. According to the official Civil Aeronautics Board report of the crash (available online), Peterson was both improperly briefed on the rapidly deteriorating weather -- a snowstorm was moving in -- and didn't look into it enough himself.
As the report concluded, "at night, with an overcast sky, snow falling, no definite horizon, and a proposed flight over a sparsely settled area with an absence of ground lights," Peterson almost certainly would have had to fly by instruments only. Problem was, Peterson was "not properly certified nor qualified" to do it.
Worst of all, because of gusty winds, Peterson had to rely greatly on an instrument known as an attitude indicator, and he was probably unaware that "the pitch display of this instrument is the reverse of the instrument he was accustomed to; therefore, he could have become confused and thought that he was making a climbing turn, when in reality he was making a descending turn."
Indeed, no one aboard knew it, but Peterson was taking them at high speed right into the ground. The Beechcraft Bonanza was instantly demolished. There was no fire or explosion.
They were rock's first major casualties.
The news got out later that day, and American rock 'n' rollers were in shock. Perhaps that's what McLean was referring to in the last verse of his cryptic American Pie:
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.
