The first day of February had arrived and I was anxious to hit the road for my first trip of 2024. Not only did my photographer’s agenda have us scheduled to relive the movie ‘Groundhog Day’ in Woodstock, Illinois, but we were also going to see Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and The Big Bopper come to life at the Riverside Ballroom in Green Bay, Wisconsin. In addition to those two huge events, I also knew at some point during the four-day trip I would eclipse the 70,000-mile mark for my nearly eleven-year career of travelling to Presidential and historical sites.
During the month or so leading up to our departure day, my photographer was concerned about the weather. Travelling across Michigan, through the Chicago area, then up to Green Bay could potentially be dangerous in the middle of winter – and as much as he likes Buddy Holly, Tom didn’t want to endure the same ordeal as Holly did 65 years earlier. After all, the 1959 Winter Dance Party entertainers travelled the same area of the Midwest during the exact same timeframe when Mother Nature unleashed her fury on the tour. Sub-zero temperatures, along with ice and blowing snow, played so much havoc during the first eleven dates of the tour, it caused Buddy Holly to charter an airplane in an attempt to avoid riding on their frozen, dilapidated bus. Holly’s decision ultimately cost him his life, along with the lives of J.P. Richardson, Ritchie Valens, and the plane’s pilot Roger Peterson. February 3, 1959 became infamous as ‘The Day the Music Died’.
When Tom, Vicki, and I left home at 6:34am on February 1, 2024, however, there was no snow in the forecast and the early morning temperature was already above freezing. So much so, in fact, by the time we drove through Chicago at eleven o’clock, the thermometer had reached 50 degrees. As I looked out through an opening in my camera case, which was positioned on the Jeep Grand Cherokee’s back seat, all I saw was bright blue sky and the skyscrapers of Chicago basked in bright sunshine.
Once Vicki had navigated our Jeep through the Windy City’s hectic traffic unscathed, we made it to our day’s final destination shortly after 12 noon. Since this was my third visit to Woodstock, Illinois, it felt like I was trapped in a ‘Groundhog Day’ movie time loop. Fortunately, that movie, which starred Bill Murray and Andie MacDowell, is one of my all-time favorite films, and it was great to be back where the classic motion picture was filmed.
Before we headed to Woodstock Square to walk in the footsteps of Pittsburgh television weatherman Phil Connors, my photographer decided to throw his wife an early bone by making a stop at the Roscoe Woodstock Antique Mall. I knew Tom had an ulterior motive – two years earlier, he found a historic photo of Buddy Holly in that same mall, and I figured he was hoping to capture lightning in a bottle again. Unfortunately, after a 45-minute scavenger hunt inside the mall, my photographer left empty-handed.
Back in the Jeep, we had just over a one-mile drive to get to the hub of the ‘Groundhog Day’ movie experience, which was the Woodstock Square in the center of town. Once Vic had found a parking spot on South Benton Street in front of the Yoga Lounge, Tom and I left her behind as we set out on foot in search of Ned Ryerson – the annoying insurance salesman nicknamed Needle Nose Ned and Ned the Head who got the shingles so bad he nearly didn’t graduate from Case Western High. “Bing!”
After I stood in the footsteps of Phil Connors and Ned Ryerson, my photographer and I visited another handful of sites in and around the square – at least the ones not affected by the sun’s glare. For those sites with the horrible sun angle, I heard Tom tell his wife we’d return to Woodstock Square at night where he’d capture those images. I knew that revelation made Vicki extremely happy.
Shortly after Tom and I had finished recreating the bank scene from the movie, the two of us headed to ‘The Thoughtfulness Shop’ where my companion bought himself a tee shirt emblazoned with a silk-screened quote from the movie across the chest. Tom’s maroon shirt read, “Well, what if there is no tomorrow? There wasn’t one today.”
I thought to myself, “No tomorrow? That would mean no consequences. We could do whatever we wanted. We could drive on the railroad tracks or maybe go bowling!”
Tom and I met up with Vicki, who was seated on a park bench alongside the bandstand. After my two travel mates sat and enjoyed the unseasonably warm weather, I heard my photographer tell his wife there was one final site he wanted to visit before we left town for the afternoon. My resin ears perked up when Tom mentioned Wayne’s Lanes, which was the bowling alley featured in the movie ‘Groundhog Day’. While the final cut of the film featured only the bar scene where Phil Connors was drinking with two locals named Ralph and Gus, there was a deleted scene where Connors finished the last two shots of a 300 game.
Would my out-of-shape cameraman risk his bad knees, sensitive back, sore shoulders, and arthritic knuckles by trying to bowl a game or two in Woodstock, Illinois? While I knew Wayne’s Lanes was likely closed at that time of day, I also knew Tom didn’t bring his own bowling ball or shoes with him on the trip. There was no way my photographer would jeopardize us seeing Friday night’s Winter Dance Party show in Green Bay by him ending up in traction at the local hospital.
The three of us boarded the Jeep and made the short drive to Wayne’s Lanes, which was located roughly two blocks north of the town square. After I posed for a few photos near the exterior of the movie site, Tom discovered the bowling alley was open for business. When Vicki questioned her husband about whether or not Tom would attempt to bowl, he said his intent was to have a beer and maybe get a picture or two where Bill Murray had sat at the bar with Ralph and Gus. My photographer emphatically added, “My bowling days are over.”
But after a few chugs of ‘liquid courage’, I saw my camera guy as he walked around the establishment – I laughed to myself as he stuck his fingers and thumb into every bowling ball there. I could tell he was getting the itch to bowl on the same lane where Phil Connors had rolled a 300 game. Sure enough, when he found a ball that fit his grip, I heard him tell the kid behind the bar to “fire up lane five – I’m gonna throw caution to the wind.”
I stood above the scorer’s table as I watched Tom cautiously roll the first ball down the lane. Initially, I thought the floorboards of the approach were creaking from stress; but it turned out the cracking noise I heard came from my photographer’s knees. After he missed a one-pin spare in the first frame, Tom stunned the capacity crowd of five spectators by stringing together three consecutive strikes. I was stunned by watching him get a ‘turkey’ in the first four frames. Even though my companion had averaged over 200 for at least ten consecutive seasons in his local bowling league, he’s bowled less than a dozen games in the past five years. As a matter of fact, it’s been two years since his last attempt at bowling a game.
After Tom threw his final shot in the tenth frame, I heard him complain about how the bowling shoes were too worn and slippery, and the hole in the ball was cutting into his ring finger. While my fat friend couldn’t replicate Phil Connor’s perfect game, Tom did manage to record a semi-respectable 168 score; and he did it without falling down, hurting his back, or straining any vital muscles.
When the three of us returned to the Jeep after the bowling experience, I wondered if Tom was serious when he asked his wife to drive on the nearby railroad tracks. I laughed when my photographer attempted to recite Bill Murray’s famous line in the movie, spoken just prior to Phil Connors driving onto the tracks. “It’s the same thing your whole life – clean up your room; stand up straight; pick up your feet; take it like a man; be nice to your sister; don’t mix beer and wine – ever. Oh yeah, don’t drive on the railroad tracks.” I thought to myself, “Phil, that’s one I happen to agree with.”
Out of nowhere, a train suddenly sped across Church Street at the same place where Phil drove on the tracks in the movie. So instead of us taking a drive on the tracks to replicate that scene, Tom made the suggestion of driving to nearby Crystal Lake, Illinois where there was a large antique mall. His new plan was for us to register and unpack our luggage at our hotel first, then we’d head to Crystal Lake. Tom figured by the time the three of us had finished browsing the mall, they’d get dinner somewhere, then we would return to downtown Woodstock for the night photos.
The AmericInn by Wyndham was a little over one mile from the bowling alley and was just a stone’s throw from the Roscoe Woodstock Antique Mall. As soon as Vicki had registered, Tom unpacked the Jeep and brought the luggage to their room. With no rest for the weary, the three of us were on our way to Crystal Lake – which was about eight miles southeast of Woodstock.
When Tom carried me inside the Crystal Lake Antique Mall, I instantly had an uneasy feeling about the place. At first, I didn’t know why, but something felt very creepy inside that building. Roughly thirty minutes into his treasure hunt, my photographer stopped at a locked showcase situated at the foot of a long ramp. “That’s it, I found it – I need that album in my collection.” The original vinyl record Tom had found was called ‘Love It to Death’ and was released on March 9, 1971 by a band known as Alice Cooper. No wonder I had an uneasy feeling in that mall, I didn’t realize we were on the hunt for the ‘Godfather of Shock Rock’. But there was another surprise – it turned out the building was once used in the past as a funeral home and the ramp where Tom found the prized album had led to the area where deceased bodies were embalmed.
Tom walked out of the antique mall with me in one hand and the Alice Cooper album in the other. Truth be told, I’m a fan of Alice as the two of us have something in common. We’ve both lost our heads multiple times over the years.
As the hands of the clock grew closer to 5:30pm, my two companions decided to head to a Texas Roadhouse restaurant for dinner. Luckily, there was one of those highly sought-after steakhouses less than three miles from the antique mall. When Tom and Vicki had finished their meal, we walked out of the restaurant in complete darkness, and that meant one thing – we were going back to Woodstock Square.
When Vicki found a good place to park along the north side of the Woodstock Square, she stayed in the warm Jeep while Tom and I went out sightseeing. I didn’t blame my photographer’s wife for staying in the vehicle, after all, the thermometer plummeted after the sun went down – although 38 degrees on the first day of February was nothing to complain about. The entire square was lit up like Christmas – which was due to the 80,000 white lights that have been in place since the Saturday after Thanksgiving. To me, the lights were a spectacular touch to an already magical town. As a matter of fact, Woodstock was voted by the Today Show as having one the “Merriest Main Streets” in the country.
But in Tom’s mind, we weren’t in town for Christmas – it was Groundhog Day and he had three sites in and around the square he wanted to photograph at night. The first was the ‘Alpine Theater’ from the movie, which was actually the Woodstock Theatre. Next, he wanted to photograph me standing on the spot where Phil and Rita built a snowman in the movie. And last, but not least, Tom wanted to snap an image of the Opera House at night. In the movie, that historic building was the Pennsylvania Hotel where Rita and Larry the cameraman lodged during their stay in Punxsutawney.
After Tom forced me to pose across the street from the Opera House, the two of us walked across Woodstock Square and to the Jeep where Vicki patiently waited for us. It was obvious my photographer’s wife had her “Phil” of Woodstock for one day, especially when I saw an eyeroll after Tom said we had one last stop to make before we went back to the hotel. Our final site of that long first day of the trip was the Cherry Street Inn, which was less than a half-mile south of Woodstock Square.
Once again, Vicki stayed in the Jeep while Tom and I did “our thing” in front of the Cherry Street Inn. Nearly ten years earlier, in July 2014, the three of us spent the night in the Magnolia Suite, which was the room depicted in the movie where Phil Connors slept over and over and over – waking up each morning at 6:00am with ‘I Got You Babe’ playing on the clock radio. We also visited the same room on Groundhog Day 2022, which was 2-2-22, during an open house of the movie site. But on this trip, however, Tom said he was comfortable with taking photographs only of the exterior – and that was cool with me, too. I had to admit, the Cherry Street Inn was a spectacular sight at night, as it was still decked-out for the holidays.
It was roughly 8:00pm when Vicki pulled the Jeep into the parking lot of the AmericInn. I felt sorry for my weary-legged photographer as he hobbled into the hotel’s lobby and down the hallway to our room. Tom placed me next to the TV set, but neither he nor Vicki had any intentions of watching television that night. The three of us had been on the “go” for nearly 15 hours and my two companions were exhausted.
A few minutes after Tom set his alarm to ring at five o’clock in the morning, he was fast asleep. While I tried to envision the upcoming Groundhog Day ceremony scheduled for the next morning, the only vision in my resin mind that night was of Alice Cooper in a funeral home. Suddenly, I saw the rocker in black leather standing alone at the bottom of the ramp. The lighting was dim, and I could barely make out Alice’s darkened eyes surrounded with the smudges of black makeup. He stared at me; and as I made eye contact, I heard the most haunting words echoing throughout the now-empty building: “I love the dead before they’re cold, the bluing flesh for me to hold. Cadaver eyes upon me see…Nothing!”
