278: IT’S GROUNDHOG DAY – AND BUDDY, RITCHIE, & THE BOPPER RETURNED TO THE RIVERSIDE STAGE

“Okay campers, rise and shine, and don’t forget your booties ’cause it’s cold out there.”

“It’s cold out there everyday – what is this, Miami Beach?”

“Not hardly! And you know, you can expect hazardous travel later today with that, you know, that blizzard thing.”

“Oh, that blizzard thing. That blizzard thing. Oh well, here’s the report. The National Weather Service is calling for a big blizzard thing.”

“Yes there are. But you know, there’s another reason why today is especially exciting.”

“Especially cold.”

“Especially cold, okay. But the big question of everybody’s lips…”

“Their chapped lips.”

“On their chapped lips, right. Do you think Phil’s gonna come out and see his shadow?”

“Punxsutawney Phil.”

“That’s right, woodchuck chuckers! It’s Groundhog Day!”

My photographer’s alarm went off at 5:00am on Friday February 2, 2024. Even though we were in Woodstock, Illinois and not in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, it was still Groundhog Day. In just two short hours, Tom, Vicki, and I planned to be in Woodstock Square with thousands of others to find out whether or not Woodstock Willie sees his shadow. After the movie ‘Groundhog Day’ was filmed in and around the town’s square in 1993, the city of Woodstock began their own celebration in 1999 called ‘Groundhog Days’ and it’s been going strong ever since. As a matter of fact, my photographer and his wife brought me to Woodstock in 2022, and we experienced the Groundhog Days festivities together for the first time.

It was 6:30am when we rolled into downtown Woodstock; Vicki found a parking spot roughly two blocks from the town square. As Tom carried me in his camera case during our short walk to the festivities, I felt the electricity in the cool, early morning air. Music played over loudspeakers; the large crowd of people who were gathered around the bandstand were singing; and the movie ‘Groundhog Day’ was coming to life before my painted resin eyes.

Just as daylight was breaking over the town, Woodstock Mayor Michael Turner stood on the crowded bandstand and kicked-off the annual Groundhog Days event when he proclaimed it was “Tom Skilling Day in the City of Woodstock”. Skilling has been the chief meteorologist for Chicago’s WGN-TV for the past 46 years and the highest paid weatherman in the country had announced he was retiring on February 28, 2024. After Skilling delivered a heartfelt and humous speech before the large, enthusiastic crowd, Mayor Turner knocked on Woodstock Willie’s imitation tree stump – and it was show-time!

With the WGN television cameras capturing the entire event live, handler Mark Szafarn removed Woodstock Willie from the stump and held him high into the air. The large crowd erupted with applause. After Turner and Skilling listened intently on what Willie had to say, the Chicago weatherman stood at the microphone and recited the official proclamation.

“This February 2nd, at 7:07am, Woodstock Willie, the seer of seers, prognosticator of the prognosticators, emerged reluctantly, but alertly in Woodstock, Illinois to wish the faithful followers a Happy Groundhog Day. Willie looked skyward to the east, and behind to the ground, and he stated clearly, ‘I definitely did not see my shadow today’.

Once again, the crowd of several thousand people erupted with applause and shouts of joy. According to Willie, we were in store for an early Spring.

During our walk from the square back to the Jeep, our path took us directly past the Woodstock Opera House. It’s an awesome building to see during the daylight, and I think it’s even more special to look up at the bell tower and envision Phil Connors free-falling from the tower in the movie ‘Groundhog Day’. While the Opera House was transformed into the Pennsylvania Hotel in 1992 when the movie was filmed, and it’s likely the most recognizable of the many film sites around Woodstock Square, there was still one place Tom insisted on visiting that morning before we headed back to the AmericInn hotel. “We can’t spend Groundhog Day in Woodstock without seeing the Cherry Street Inn. That Victorian mansion, now called the Cherry Tree Inn, was the epicenter of Phil Connors waking up over and over and over again on Groundhog Day. His never-ending time loop began in that house; and I want our visit to end at that house.”

As Vicki navigated our Jeep south along Madison Street, and just as the Cherry Tree Inn came into view at the end of the long roadway, I heard my photographer ask his wife to pull off to the side of the road. “Hey, it’s the piano teacher’s house from the movie and I feel like getting some lessons today.” In the movie, Phil Connors used some of the money he stole from the bank’s armored truck, which was guarded by Herman and Felix, to pay for piano lessons. Unfortunately for my photographer and me, Tom didn’t have an extra thousand dollars in his pocket for lessons, which meant we were left playing second fiddle on the porch.

When my time posing at the Piano Teacher’s House had ended, Tom and I got back into the Jeep for the short trip the rest of the way down Madison Street. Seconds later, I saw it directly in front of us – the beautiful and elegant Cherry Street Inn. That bed-and-breakfast was where Phil Connors stayed in the movie, and it is the most significant of all the ‘Groundhog Day’ movie film locations. It’s hard for me to believe it’s been nearly ten years since my two companions and I spent the night in the Magnolia Suite on the second floor of what was known as the Royal Victorian Manor in 2014. The following morning, at precisely 6:00am, Tom played Sonny and Cher’s ‘I Got You Babe’ as a tribute to the movie – even though Bill Murray’s bedroom scenes were filmed somewhere off site and not in the actual house.

As I stood beneath the arched gate in front of the Cherry Tree Inn on Groundhog Day 2024, I took one final look at the beautiful setting behind me. Knowing this moment might be my last in Woodstock, I thought about Phil Connors’ final television report from Gobbler’s Knob. It seemed a fitting end to my time in Woodstock as well.

“When Chekhov saw the long winter, he saw a winter bleak and dark and bereft of hope. Yet we know that winter is just another step in the cycle of life. But standing here among the people of Woodstock and basking in the warmth of their hearths and hearts, I couldn’t imagine a better fate than a long and lustrous winter. From Woodstock, Illinois, it’s Thomas Jefferson. So long.”

The three of us arrived at the AmericInn at roughly 8:30am and my companions quickly finished packing their belongings. But in their haste to see the Groundhog Day celebration earlier in the morning, Tom and Vic forgot one important aspect of their day – breakfast. Was it too late for flapjacks?

Most visitors in the town of Woodstock were likely going to hang around on that Friday and experience all of the ‘Groundhog Day’ movie sites, but not us. Tom, Vicki, and I were headed north where the three of us planned to step back in time to the year 1959. That’s right, my travel mates had tickets to the 7:30pm show at Green Bay’s Riverside Ballroom where Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and The Big Bopper would come to life before our eyes.

It took exactly three hours to drive from Woodstock to our hotel in De Pere, Wisconsin. During the entire 194-mile drive, we listened to a radio station dedicated to the music of the late 1950s, and I gotta say, it put me in the mood for some Rock ‘n’ Roll. We arrived at The Kress Inn, which was a modern, three-story brick hotel, around 2pm. Our early arrival gave the three of us time to relax before the concert. Since all of the seats for the show were on a first-come, first-served basis, Tom planned on us arriving at the historic Riverside Ballroom shortly after four o’clock – even though the doors didn’t open until six. Not only did he intend to be first in line, but he also wanted his choice of seats near the front of the stage as well.

This show, which was billed as ‘John Mueller’s Winter Dance Party’, was a tribute to the late Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and The Big Bopper. On February 1, 1959, Buddy, Ritchie, and The Bopper, along with Dion and the Belmonts and Frankie Sardo, took to the Riverside Ballroom stage during their 11th performance on the ill-fated Winter Dance Party tour. Sixty-five years ago to the day, on February 2, 1959, the three stars played their final show at the Surf Ballroom in Clear Lake, Iowa before they boarded an airplane shortly before 1am. A few minutes after take-off, the plane crashed into a frozen cornfield six miles northwest of the Mason City Municipal Airport; killing Holly, Valens, the Bopper, and pilot Roger Peterson. February 3, 1959 became known as ‘The Day the Music Died’.

In my mind, had the movie ‘Groundhog Day’ featured a real-life scenario where a time-loop was possible, perhaps the Winter Dance Party’s February 2nd performance would never end. I imagine Buddy, Ritchie, and J.P. Richardson waking up each day as their frigid bus rolls through the frozen flatlands of Iowa; the performers are headed towards Clear Lake. When they arrive late in the afternoon, the musicians set up their equipment and do a quick sound check. The show goes off without a hitch, the packed Surf Ballroom crowd of teenagers danced the night away, and the three stars are taken to the airport by ballroom manager Carroll Anderson. Shortly after 1am, the plane crashes and the singers are killed. The next day, Buddy, Ritchie, and The Bopper once again wake up on the frigid bus as it’s headed through the frozen flatlands of Iowa towards Clear Lake.

The three of us made the short seven-mile trip to the Riverside Ballroom where we arrived at roughly 4:15pm. Not surprisingly, there was no one else waiting in line at the time – we were the first ones there. My photographer left Vicki and me in the Jeep while he wandered into the historic ballroom to gather information on how the seating was laid out. When he returned a few minutes later, he grabbed a bag-chair from the back of the Jeep and parked his fat carcass next to the front door. Thankfully, the outdoor temperature was in the mid-40s, and not twenty-below-zero as it was in 1959.

Following some confusion caused by several different staff members, some of whom were sympathetic to my old photographer sitting outside in the cold, we were allowed to line up in the ballroom’s interior lobby. During the next 75 minutes of waiting for the doors to officially open, we were able to hear the musicians partake in their sound-check – and once again, I was ready to Rock ‘n’ Roll. While we waited, my “shy” camera guy engaged in numerous conversations with other patrons who arrived after we did. One of the true highlights for the three of us was listening to a woman talk about her experience 65 years earlier when she attended the original Winter Dance Party show at the Riverside on February 1, 1959.

When the doors opened at six o’clock, the three of us made a “mad dash” into the ballroom where we found seats at the front of a table just left of center stage. The one potential hiccup, which turned into reality, was the thirty-foot gap located from our seats to the front of the stage. That area was set aside for people who chose to dance – after all, it was a “Dance Party”, even though it seemed a majority of the concertgoers were geriatrics.

The show, which lasted for roughly three hours, was broken into three sets, of which the middle set featured the Winter Dance Party backing musicians who performed a medley of seven or eight cover songs from the 50s and early 60s.

During the first set, Tom, Vicki, and I stayed at our table, and we had a very difficult time seeing the performers due to the onslaught of people dancing or watching the show from the dance floor area. For the second and third set, however, my photographer insisted we stand at the stage and get an unobstructed view of the show. That decision turned out to be one of Tom’s most brilliant moves since I’ve known him. We were so close to the stage I thought I felt sweat from The Big Bopper’s crew-cut splash me in the face.

From our new position at the stage, Buddy Holly came to life in front of our eyes. John Mueller not only resembled Buddy’s looks, but his voice and mannerisms with the Stratocaster had me convinced Holly had travelled to the future in a Delorean time machine for the show. And Mueller didn’t miss any of our favorite hits, including ‘Oh, Boy’, ‘Peggy Sue’, and ‘Rave On’. But when John played ‘Crying, Waiting, Hoping’ in the first set, I thought my photographer was going to scream like a schoolgirl. Since Holly had recorded that song as a demo on December 14, 1958, with just him singing and playing the guitar at his NYC apartment, Buddy never had a chance to finish the recording in the studio before his untimely death six weeks later. For me, one of the most heartbreaking moments of the show came when Mueller played a song he had written as a tribute to Holly called ‘Hey Buddy’. I usually don’t get very emotional when I hear a song, but that one touched my resin soul and sent chills up and down my stainless-steel spine.

Ritchie Valens was only 17 years old when he played his first and last show at the Riverside Ballroom in 1959. When Ray Anthony took the stage in honor of the kid from the San Fernando Valley, it was as though Ritchie had lost the coin flip and never boarded the plane. I laughed to myself when my photographer’s wife said Anthony actually looked younger and more handsome than the real Ritchie Valens. And when it came to the songs, Ray didn’t pull any punches. He had the packed crowd rocking with ‘La Bamba’ and ‘Come On, Let’s Go’; then Anthony helped lead the swaying and swooning audience with his rendition of ‘Donna’.

On February 1, 1959, when Jiles Perry Richardson, aka The Big Bopper, rambled up to the microphone at the Riverside Ballroom, the 6′ 5″ hulking figure, dressed in a leopard-skin jacket, lit up the room with his over-the-top, enthusiastic persona. For our show, Linwood Sasser transformed into The Bopper, and bounced around the stage with a seemingly endless amount of energy as well. What he lacked in overall height (he appeared to be roughly 5′ 9″ tall), Sasser compensated with the voice and mannerisms that would’ve made Richardson proud. While hit songs such as ‘White Lighting’ and ‘Running Bear’ had the crowd singing along in unison, it was when Linwood picked up the telephone and said “Hellooooo Baby” that sent all of us into a frenzy. Everyone in the large ballroom seemed to know every word to ‘Chantilly Lace’, and the place erupted when Sasser finished with “Oh baby that’s a what I like.”

John Mueller, Ray Anthony, and Linwood Sasser received a standing ovation when their show concluded around 10:40pm. As the entertainers were taking their final bows on the historic Riverside Ballroom stage, my thoughts were 360 miles to the west in Clear Lake, Iowa. I envisioned the same scene, exactly 65 years in the past, as Buddy, Ritchie, and The Bopper basked in the final ovation at the Surf Ballroom. For a memorable and glorious moment frozen in time, the echos of their music engulfed the large ballroom.

Twenty minutes after the show concluded, the three stars emerged from backstage and began signing autographs for the fans. Tom and I waited in the line of concertgoers, biding our time before we met the singers. But on this night, my photographer didn’t seek to get anything signed – he had a poster autographed by the three performers two years earlier in Eau Claire. Instead, Tom wanted a photograph of me posing with the trio. As Mueller held me tight in both of his hands, which were still sweaty from playing his Stratocaster for the past few hours, I looked up briefly and saw my reflection in Buddy Holly’s signature glasses. I took a quick glance to my left and saw Ritchie Valens smiling; and to my left, The Big Bopper was clowning around.

As Tom took a couple of images, I tried to yell out – “Don’t get on the plane. Please don’t get on the plane.” Not one of them heard my plea. Buddy, Ritchie, and The Bopper just smiled for the camera – their fate was already sealed. Even Groundhog Day wouldn’t be able to change the course of music history.

At 11:00pm, there was a chill in the night air outside of the illuminated Riverside Ballroom – but it wasn’t nearly as cold as it was in 1959. Sixty-five years earlier, a stiff, north wind blew the still falling snow – and it stung the bare faces of the teenagers leaving the ballroom. The weather didn’t seem to bother the youngsters, they were still singing the songs of Buddy, Ritchie, and The Bopper as they headed home – each still high from the electricity of the show they had just witnessed. Little did they know at the time, each person who walked out of that ballroom on February 1, 1959 would remember that night for the rest of their lives.

I posed for several images with the entrance to the Riverside behind me. History was made here 65 years ago, and that history came to life for me this night. For three special hours, on the historic Riverside Ballroom stage, it was The Night the Music Lived.

A long, long time ago
I can still remember how that music used to make me smile.
And I knew if I had my chance,
That I could make those people dance
And maybe they’d be happy for a while.

But February made me shiver,
With every paper I’d deliver.
Bad news on the doorstep
I couldn’t take one more step.

I can’t remember if I cried,
When I read about his widowed bride.
But something touched me deep inside
The day the music died.

** THIS POST IS DEDICATED TO JOHN MUELLER, RAY ANTHONY, AND LINWOOD SASSER FOR BRINGING BUDDY, RITCHIE, AND THE BIG BOPPER BACK TO LIFE FOR ONE NIGHT **