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London, Buddy Holly and The Eye

© Mary Ellen Bradshaw

London, Buddy Holly and The Eye

Like a magnet, London draws us back for another visit. We are on our way to Tuscany, via the Chunnel and the Haute Alps of France. We have a couple of days to just sightsee and relax in the small elegant Goring Hotel, our favorite stopping place in London.

We are greeted in our room, by a resting sheep, one of the famous Goring, carved wood and fur animals. We settle in and get ready for an evening at the theatre. Our concierge, Tony, manages to get us tickets to " Buddy Holly", a play that has been running for some years, but for some unknown reason we have missed it

After a wonderful dinner at the hotel, we arrive at the theatre and are enthralled. The place is filled with people our age and older, many . dressed in the style of the fifties, Poodle skirts, felt circles with felt poodle sewn on one side are spied,with crinolines underneath of course. It was one of the uniforms of the fifties. The men are dressed in baggy legged strides and big shoulder jackets. Ducktails, slicked back pompadors and waves are the norm and the smell of hair oil is around us. It is obvious that many of the audience have been to this production before.

The curtain goes up and Buddy and his Crickets are in a small radio studio in Lubbock,Texas, singing slow, drawling cowboy tunes. They appear bored and are not putting much enthusiasm into their songs. Then all of a sudden Buddy jumps up and strums his electric guitar and they move into a loud rocking rendition of "Every day". The crowd goes wild. We cannot stop tapping our feet. There is a great urge to dance, as the concert goes on. It brings back memories of our youth, when we danced the night away to the same songs. Many of the aging "teens." take to the aisles.

The story of Buddy's rise to fame, his trials and tribulations and his untimely death keep us interested as the music entertains us. We are in the audience at his concerts. We are back in the 50s.

Then a dance card is handed out to us all, simulating the last concert Buddy was to give. We are in the Surf Ballroom on a snowy winter night in Clear Lake Iowa.* The concert is awesome. Later Four young men will die in farmer Albert Johl's field.

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