Thanks, Buddy

"The wreckage of a single-engine Beechcraft Bonanza was scattered across a small area of snow-covered cornfield outside of Clear Lake, Iowa. The plane crashed into the ground suddenly, so most of the smoldering rubble was concentrated in one area. Three passengers — Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens and J.P. Richardson, a.k.a. “The Big Bopper” — were ejected from the plane and died on impact, as did the pilot, 21-year-old Roger Peterson.
That happened on Feb. 3, 1959, exactly 50 years ago." (Michael Ventre, on msnbc.com)

Don McLean would go on to write the song, "The Day The Music Died" to describe the tragedy of this day in history, but, we all know it didn't die, did it? It has changed significantly, for the worse and for the better, since that day 50 years ago.

My father met Buddy Holly once. To get my Dad's story straight, I'll let him tell it - from his personal history: "In the summer of my 13th year, in the month of July 1957, I was helping Robert Owens across the street wash his Chevrolet in the vacant lot next to his home. My mother came to our front door and yelled across the street for me to come to the phone. I went back to my house and picked up the phone. One the other end of the line was Bill Phillips, Jr. who was a disc jockey at one of the local radio stations in town (WICO, in Salisbury, Maryland). Bill informed me that he had a special visitor and wondered if I could come down to the studio for a few minutes to meet him. He would not tell me his name, only that he was in town for only a short time passing through to an engagement north of here and had stopped into see Bill while he was broadcasting his afternoon show. I told him that I thought I could get Robert to take me down and told him I would be there in a few minutes. Robert did take me down tot he station and when we pulled up in front I could look through the plate glass window in front of the station and see Bill inside with someone else sitting beside him. I asked Robert to wait for me while I went inside and he turned the car off and sat back in the front seat to take a nap while I was inside. I went in the front door and to the studio door where the "On Air" light was on. I waited for the light to go off and then, knowing that I would not disrupt Bill's broadcast, knocked on the door and the voice inside bid me enter. I did so and when I walked into Bill's broadcast studio the guest stood up and Bill said to me, "Wayne, I would like you to meet Buddy Holly." I couldn't believe my ears. Here he was, the man himself. Holly was dressed in jeans with a plaid sport shirt and those awful black horn rimmed glasses. He was only 20 years old. I was stunned. He extended his hand for me to shake and it took all the energy at my disposal to extend my hand to his. Earlier that year, in February, Holly and Crickets had just recorded and released "That'll Be The Day". He told me he was on his way for an interview with Dick Clark in Philadelphia when he was driving through Salisbury, he remembered Bill Phillips from an earlier acquaintance and thought he would just stop in to see him. I will never forget that day as long as I live. Holly died a little more than a year and a half (3 Feb 59) after I had the opportunity to meet him. What I have kicked myself for all these years is the fact that in all the excitement and confusion of seeing him in person, I failed to even ask him for something as simple as an autograph!" From the Personal History of Wayne Brumbley, pages 130-131

Thanks, Dad. The guy who should be really kicking himself is poor Robert Owens, napping in the Chevy out front!