Since Jim was unable to provide meaningful insight into Buddy’s life and work, I began the search to learn more about Buddy on my own. Buddy was from Texas. That alone speaks volumes about him.
Texans are different than the rest of us. They are a rare breed of human beings. Texas is the only state that was once its own republic, and many there still believe it is (or wish it were so). The state’s nickname is the “Lone Star” state. It’s common to see flagpoles flying the Texas state flag with no American flag in sight. I have spent a lot of time on the road all across this great country of mine, and I have never seen this in any other state. It’s not that Texans do not consider themselves Americans. They most certainly do. In fact, I believe Texans are in general a bit more patriotic than most. But they take the issue of their state independence quite seriously. As far as they are concerned, Texas voluntarily joined with the other states for reasons of security, commerce, defense, and convenience. They are proud to be Americans—but they are rabidly ecstatic about being Texans.
Did you know you can buy just about anything in the shape of Texas? Potholders, cookie cutters, cake pans, coasters, candles, you name it. If it’s a household decoration or tool, you can find it in the shape of Texas. I think that’s one reason the shape of Texas is the most recognizable shape of any state. Could someone on the streets of New York City correctly identify the shape of Indiana if you held up a cut-out of the state? How about Iowa? Arkansas? They won’t have a clue. Show them the shape of Texas and they will know immediately.
It’s the same with flags. Somewhere in almost every Texas home you will find a Texas flag or a picture of a Texas flag. Everyone knows the Texas flag by sight, but the average Illinoisan cannot describe their state’s flag or recognize it if you show it to them. I love my state of Illinois, but this is true and I admit it. Here’s the bottom line: we are Americans who live in Illinois; they are Texans who live in America.
To say Texans are proud people would be a comical understatement, sort of like saying there are lots of stars in the sky, or there is a lot of water in the ocean. The average individual Texan carries in his heart more state pride than all the people of Illinois combined carry for theirs. There are some states that run a distant second. Virginians, Tennesseans, and maybe those from Massachusetts carry their state heritage with high regard. Texans are simply a different breed. “Texas. A whole ‘nother’ Country” is their slogan. They say things like, “American by birth, Texan by the grace of God.” And they believe it.
Texans believe that there are only two types of people on the planet: (A) Those who are from Texas, and (B) Those who wish they were. I’ll make my confession here and now. I am solidly in the B group. I love Texas and I respect Texans. I am an Illinois boy, but you never catch me out of my boots. Most Americans refer to them as “cowboy boots,” but to a Texan they are simply “boots.”
Yes, I am a Texas wannabe. I get tears in my eyes when I stand in front of the Alamo. I get chills when I see the Longhorn marching band parading down the street. I get goose bumps when I see the Texas flag flying alone in a Texas breeze under the bright Texas sun with a Texas blue sky as the backdrop. I believe the sun is brighter there, the sky is bluer there, and of course, everything is bigger in Texas.
Let me sum all this up with the words of a San Antonio carriage driver. Arlene and I were in San Antonio for Fiesta. Fiesta is their celebration of winning their independence from Mexico. It’s a two-week party and it’s an absolute blast. We took a late night open air carriage ride through the city. As we passed in front of the Alamo, unprompted and for no apparent reason other than the pride of being a Texan, the carriage driver turned to us and said, “God is from Texas.” He spit his tobacco off to the side and added, “That’s why He is so great.” For a moment I believed him. The carriage driver slowly turned back to the front and never said another word the rest of the ride. He didn’t have to. He’d already said it all.
When I learned Buddy was from Texas I understood immediately the simple basics of his upbringing. I admit there are no absolutes in the world, but it’s so very rare to find a Texan who is not glowing with Texas pride. This is especially true in the West Texas town of Lubbock. I believe Texas molds and forms its young children in ways other states and regions do not. I think it would be hard for Buddy to be from Texas and to have not been influenced in this manner.
A handgun was found at the airplane crash site outside Clear Lake, Iowa, in 1959 that was later identified as Buddy’s. It caused quite a stir and several silly rumors. It made sense to me right away—of course Buddy had a gun. He was a Texan. It would have been unusual for him not to have a gun! I realize that is a stereotype, but still . . . how could anyone have been surprised? I thought again about the picture of Buddy in sunglasses tuning his guitar at Waterloo’s Electric Park. Buddy was a quintessential Texan.
Texans are big on the Golden Rule and Buddy embodied it. “He truly treated everyone with respect,” his friends are fond of saying. “While recording, if someone made a mistake, Buddy would stop, laugh and say, ‘We’ll have to do that over again!’”
Friends are also the first to point out that the depiction of Buddy in the movie The Buddy Holly Story was not accurate at all. Actor Gary Busey did an amazing job in his portrayal of Buddy, but he didn’t write the script. The movie Buddy was temperamental and at times sullen and withdrawn, while the real Buddy—as testified to by those who knew him best—was outgoing, and always had a smile on his face and a kind word to say about others.
The movie depicts Buddy as being from Texas but happy to move to and be in New York. The reality is that Buddy intended to return to Texas and build his recording studio in Lubbock, not the Big Apple. Texas roots run deep. You can take a Texan out of Texas, but he usually wants to return. Yes, I think to understand Buddy you need to start with an understanding of Texans.
I’ve heard Lubbock referred to as the “Buckle of the Bible Belt.” Non-believers would call it an offhanded insult, while Bible-reading Christians would call it a compliment and a true statement. The Holley (correct family spelling) family would be in the latter group. Buddy was raised as a Baptist in a home where the Bible was a workbook, not a table decoration. It was used, not just admired. Gary and Ramona Tollett, back-up vocalists on “That’ll Be the Day” and other Holly songs say that Buddy carried his Christianity into his adult life, and although he was not vocal about his beliefs, he was firm in his faith.
Buddy may not have worn his faith on his sleeve, but he sure lived it. As Saint Francis of Assisi put it, “Preach the Gospel at all times and when necessary use words.” That was Buddy. He tithed (gave 10% of his earnings to his church) and his treatment of others was a reflection of his quiet but deep faith. I believe his family, his church, and his state were the strongest forces in creating the Buddy Holly his friends and fans loved so much.
Buddy was born at home on Labor Day, September 7, 1936. His full name is Charles Hardin Holley. Holley is the correct spelling of his name, but he adopted Holly because of a mistake on a recording contract. Almost immediately his parents, Lawrence Odell and Ella Pauline (Drake) Holley, began calling him “Buddy” because they thought Charles Hardin was such a big name for such a little boy.
Buddy was the youngest of the Holley children. He had two older brothers, Larry and Travis, and an older sister named Patricia. The home in which Buddy was born is now a Walmart parking lot. He was raised in a typical Texas middle class family. He attended Lubbock public schools. There was nothing unusual or unique about his upbringing to which we can point and say, “This event or incident created the Buddy we know and love.” His life was shaped over twenty-two years by his faith, family, friends, and of course, his state.
I was struck most by the evolving realization that I would have really liked Buddy. He was a good person, always a kind word for others and the attention and success he enjoyed at a young age never took over his personality. He remained Buddy from Lubbock—a nice guy ready to take on the world and rock the music and entertainment industries.
I have been blessed in my life to meet many famous people, including presidents, movie stars, and politicians. And I am almost always disappointed because I hoped for more but got less than I expected. When it comes to Buddy, the more I learned the more I liked him. In fact, I “liked” him a lot, but I really needed to find and talk to people who knew him, worked with him, and can give me firsthand information about the man and the legend.