On February 3rd, 1959, Ray Greene, myself and another friend of Ray's were spending the weekend at Rays's home in Whitefish, Ontario, just outside of Sudbury. I had the weekend off from my night watchman job at Algom Nordic, and Ray and his friend were working as cleaners at a Crawley McCracken construction camp at the new Elliot Lake Hospital site.
We were rocking and rolling at a local dance, when someone walked in and told us that Buddy Holly, Richie Valens, and the Big Bopper had just died in a plane crash. We were devastated...we knew the words to every song that both Buddy and Richie sang, and just loved J. P. Richardson's "Chantilly Lace." In true 50s' style, we pooled our resources and went to the nearest bootlegger where we purchased, and consumed, a mickey of Captain Morgan Black and a mickey of Tradition Rye Whiskey.
We stumbled back through the winter night to Ray's home singing the complete repetoire, albeit not very tunefully.
By the time Don McLean wrote about "the day the music died" in his 1971 song, American Pie, I had travelled far afield from the mines of Elliot Lake, and had lost touch with Ray. Rock and Roll, however, still lived on through several incarnations.
Rock on, Buddy, Richie, and J. P. Rock and Roll will never die (although presently it may be said to need a transfusion).
