You are likely familiar with the sounds, songs, and stars of 1950s Rock 'n' Roll, but it's probably unlikely that you have any firsthand memories from that era—unless you spent your teenage years when the new portable transistor radio was the closest thing to social media. The 1950s were an extraordinary, pivotal era, dividing not just the 20th century but the old world and the modern era. If you’ve ever wondered why Rock music from the '60s onward is referred to as “classic rock,” and '50s rock was already called “oldies” by the 1970s, it reflects the rapid cultural changes of the era. So… if you were born after 1945, understanding the 1950s American experience is necessary to grasp how essential and influential Rock music’s pioneers really are. 

Rock ‘n Roll is a bubbling cauldron of early 20th century home grown American musical styles. The potent mix of Rhythm and Blues, Gospel, and Country music exploded into the mainstream around 1955. For the growing baby boomer population that came of age at the time, the fresh, new sound represented freedom, rebellion, and a style they could call their own. While early Rock music might seem tame compared to today’s standards, for parents, the establishment, and popular musical stars of the time, Rock music represented something as dangerous, foreboding, and immoral as the atomic bomb. Reactions were anything but measured; Burgeoning Rock ‘n Roll was under attack. 

Since the arrival of Rock and Roll, the established old guard had been trying to water down the “dangerous” style of its first generation of stars, like Little Richard, Chuck Berry, and Elvis Presley. Record companies backed more controllable, less authentic cover artists like Bill Haley and Pat Boone, and others. Rock music was in danger of losing its teeth and its identity, putting the entire organic, youthful movement in jeopardy. By the end of 1958, proto Rock ‘n Roll had already suffered some major setbacks. Elvis “The King” Presley was out of action after being drafted into the armed forces. Rising star Jerry Lee Lewis’s popularity went up in a great ball of fire when news of his 15-year-old bride (who was also his 2nd cousin) hit the press on his tour of the U.K. Shortly after, Chuck Berry was taken out of action due to trumped-up charges, which led to imprisonment for Mann Act violations, leaving the future of Rock music in the hands of a few authentic, original up-and-comers. 

The unexpected loss of three more rising stars in rock music, each with raw talent and seemingly limitless potential, unquestionably felt like a breath-robbing gut punch for fans of the genre’s emerging wave. Nevertheless, nearly 70 years after the tragic events of February 3, 1959, the legacy, influence, and admiration for the artists who perished during the Winter Dance Party tour (as well as a few who survived) remain vibrantly alive. They're short but exceptional contributions to Rock music were enough to lay the foundation for the future of Rock ‘n Roll. 

The youngest headliner of the Winter Dance Party tour, music was always a focal point of Richie Valens' life. With encouragement from his family, Richie took up the traditional (nylon string) guitar, the trumpet (and later, the drums), playing Marichi music well before his teenage years. His love for blues and proto-rock led him to pick up the solid-body electric guitar, making him one of the earliest players to adopt the radical new design. Valens loved to play the guitar alongside his transistor radio, creating his own riffs as he went along and composing his own songs. At 15, Valens was already playing lead guitar with local San Fernando Valley bands before finding his voice as a singer.

Richie Valens already had three top forty hits to his credit before what was to be his first major tour. The ballad “Donna” (written for his girlfriend) reached #2 on the charts, "Come On, Let's Go" reached #42, and remains an early Rock classic. However, it was Valens' Rock ‘n Roll arrangement of the traditional Mexican folk song "La Bamba" that made him most memorable. The song made him a pioneer of Spanish-language pop, an inspiration to future artists, and a Rock music Icon at only 17 years of age. Although his professional career as a recording artist lasted only about eight months, his talents had already earned enough money to buy his family a small house-- and the Fender Stratocaster he played on the Winter Dance Party Tour. 

On the subject of the Winter Dance Party Tour, Dion, the hit-making 19-year-old from the Bronx, NYC, is the least talked about. Although very evident, it’s got little to do with Dion's status as a star. With “The Belmonts”, Dion had already scored three top 40 hits (including "I Wonder Why"), toured with Bobby Darin, and had national exposure on “American Bandstand.” In the actual words of Buddy Holly, “Death is very often referred to as a good career move.” Dion’s almost-forgotten participation on the tour is simply the result of surviving it. We don’t have to guess “what may have been” concerning Dion, who went on to ever greater fame as a solo act in 1960, with classic songs like “Runaround Sue" and “The Wanderer.” 

Over his lifetime, Dion DiMucci has released over 40 albums, scored countless hits, and was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1989. Now, a youthful and active 86-year-old, Dion still lives in NYC with his wife of over 60 years. 

Also performing on the tour was the opening act, singer Franky Sardo. Although he survived (and completed the tour), his musical career did not last long. Sardo transitioned into acting and film production and died in 2004. 

Already down a drummer and unable to perform due to frostbitten feet, Holly and Valens took over drumming for each other's band, as well as for the other headline acts. Growing progressively sick, weary, and filthy, Holly took charge of booking a chartered flight from Clear Lake, Iowa, to Minnesota, just a few miles from the next venue. For the passengers, a flight to the next show meant a warm bed to sleep in, clean clothing, and a fighting chance to finish the tour, without any further maladies. Unfortunately, the Beechcraft Bonanza aircraft booked for the transport could carry only the pilot and 3 passengers —leading to the infamous coin toss incident. 

Depending on whose recollection you like best, the story plays out in a few very different ways. In one, Holly paid to fly himself and his bandmates, Tommy Allsup and fellow Lubbock, Texas native Waylon Jennings (yes, the Waylon Jennings). Others say Holly planned to offer the seats to his fellow headliners, who'd share the expense. A coin toss would decide who’d have to pony up $39 (about $450 in today's dollars) for the flight, and who’d ride the bus. In this scenario, Dion says no coin toss was necessary; he passed on the flight, saying, “That’s a month's rent in NYC! 

The story also goes that the Big Bopper asked Jennings to give up his seat because he was suffering from the flu. Valens also wanted in, pressing Allsup for his seat, as thoughts of another night on a broken-down, freeing bus trumped his fear of flying. Allsup resisted, and it came down to a coin toss, which Valens won. There are even more versions of the fateful passenger manifest that came to be, and who tossed the coin. Years later, Dion quipped, “If everyone who claimed to flipped a coin with Buddy Holly to get a seat on that plane, they would have needed a 747.”  Regardless of how things unfolded, the flight took off with the young pilot, the Big Bopper, Richie Valens, and Buddy Holly, bound for Fargo.    

At dawn’s first light, search parties discovered the mangled aircraft and the remains of all souls onboard, in a lightly snow-covered cornfield, only 5 miles from the airport.  Among the identifiable wreckage were the Big Bopper's Gibson acoustic, Richie Valens' thin jacket, and Buddy Holly's shattered glasses. 

For the survivors, including Holly’s close friends Dion DiMucci and future country star Waylon Jennings, there was no time yet to mourn. General Artist Corps insisted the tour go on, leaving the emotionally shattered musicians with no choice but to carry on and somehow complete the remaining 13 dates. 

Long before anyone had reason to contemplate something as morbid as “the 27 Club,” Rock ‘n Roll lost three of its most promising and inventive young stars, and its innocence, in a single night, frozen in time. Just as the shocking events of the Rolling Stones' Altamont Speedway concert in ’69 are said to be the unofficial end of the 1960s, the Winter Dance Party tour marks the end of an era-but not the end of Rock and Roll. 

The mixture of races, cultures, and styles that gave birth to Rock and Roll was as inevitable as change itself. At a time when Rock music was due to change and evolve, or risk stagnation, change arrived. Although their lives were cut criminally short--and one can only imagine what more could have been--JP Richardson, Richie Valens, and Buddy Holly were stewards of Rock and Roll, just long enough to sow the seeds of its future. 

Fittingly enough, Buddy Holly himself probably summed it all up best when he said,  “All right, it's about to happen. We go out there, we give it our all, and we live forever.”