The night the music died

I have to be one of the luckiest guys going. Privileged to be a crewmember on a fast corporate-class airplane, we occasionally travel to some interesting locations. Recently, the crew spent several hours lying over in Lubbock, Texas, awaiting our passengers return.

For some reason, in all my travels, I have missed Lubbock. For a lot of years, the Air Force had a pilot training base there just west of town but that has since closed. Many of my Air Force pilot friends were privileged to enjoy the occasional dust storms and ubiquitous tumble weeds blowing across West Texas as they learned to fly jet powered aircraft at Reece, AFB. The natives are friendly and more than a few found young female students at Texas Tech and the several other local colleges to marry and take along on their Air Force careers.

During World War II the Army Air Corps operated a large glider training base at Lubbock. Incidentally another glider training facility, both now the municipal airport for their respective city was at Alliance, Nebraska. Right across the parking lot from the FBO (pilot talk for fixed base operations -- kinda like the gas station, place to park and truck stop along our interstate highway systems) is a nice museum commemorating their World War II glider training role.

On display were a couple of the real cargo gliders, the CG-4's that flew troops and equipment into German occupied France during the Normandy invasion. The CG-4 is at least as large as the small airliners that come into McCook, only the CG-4 (cargo glider) is constructed entirely of wood, a few pieces of metal tubing and covered with fabric. They carried troops into battle, plus the equipment including jeeps, bulldozers and big guns that those brave men needed to conduct operations. Remember, the glider was a one-way trip; they were towed to the scene behind cargo aircraft, the tow rope released and the troops had to fight their way out of the battle. Brave comes to mind.

Out in front of the museum was a wonderful old C-47 on display to represent the airplanes that towed the gliders into battle. In civilian livery that airplane was the DC-3 and Frontier Airlines flew them into McCook in the early 1960s. I was privileged to train in what we lovingly called the Gooney Bird on my way to a fourth assignment to Vietnam. Too late, the war was over before I could get there but I'll always be proud to have flown the venerable old girl.

For lunch, the nice lady at the counter recommended the Cast Iron Grill downtown Lubbock. The Grill was an experience in West Texas roadhouse cuisine and ambience. Fun place.

Across the street was a facility dedicated to the late singer and Lubbock native son, Buddy Holly.

"Who is this 'Buddy Holly'?" I asked our outgoing waitress. "You funning me!" was her eye sparking response.

Yes, I knew who Buddy Holly was, but my younger pilot captain companion had a blank look on his face. Truth be known, I was more familiar with the accident that killed Buddy and his companions that 1959 winter night in Iowa, "The night the music died."

Sadly it was pilot error exacerbated by terrible weather and the low experienced pilot trying to fly an attitude indicator flight instrument much different from what he had flown before. Not exactly my taste in music (better than the current modern stuff) but that is OK.

We didn't tour the Buddy Holly Center but I was intrigued. The building was a large stone repurposed rail station located about two blocks from the interstate. The place was dedicated to education in the visual and musical arts and highlighted a "Walk of Fame" for that purpose. There was a good half block for parking friendly everything from cars to semi-trucks. Motorhomes and big campers especially welcome. Lots of kids seen running around outside showed it to be a family- friendly place.

I'm a thinking that McCook needs a similar facility here to highlight, show off, our most famous sons. McCook the home of many a governor but perhaps most notably Sen. George Norris. With innovative design, it could become quite a tourist destination.

Norris, the great liberal, was both a Republican and a Democrat at different times in life and probably the most responsible for REA (Rural Electrification Administration) "The day the lights came on."

That legislation was the engine of change that vastly improved quality of life for rural America, which is us right here, and actually for the entire country. For a measure of how much change: during the depression of the 1930s, each farm family produced enough food to feed three other families. The latest accounting that I've seen says that the same farm family today feeds 144 other persons. Yes, that is changed, that we can believe in and the man primarily responsible lived and retired right here.

Just a thought. Not my original idea and I think you will be hearing more about the concept in the near future.

'Twas a miracle. The community theatre group had one more performance, a Sunday matinee. The leading actor became incapacitated. What to do? Doug Ohlson, an experienced local amateur actor was impressed to stand in. With three hours practice and script in hand Doug did a really credible job and indeed the show went on.

Quite a treat! The 80 (81 with Doug) actors, stage hands, set designers, costumers, musicians, all that make their productions so successful pulled together and it was truly a huge success.

Oh, the talent we have right here in Southwest Nebraska.

Bloody Mary!

That is how I saw it.

Dick Trail