Gary and Ramona Tollett, who recorded and sang with Buddy Holly, standing in front of their home in Arizona.
Gary and Ramona Tollett
“We were sitting in a hotel restaurant in Clovis, New Mexico,” Ramona reminisced over the phone with me. “Through the years, we have seen many Buddy Holly impersonators. Some do a pretty good job but nothing comes close to the original. Buddy was one of a kind,” she paused. “I thought it would be impossible to accurately portray Buddy, but as we were sitting there, waiting to meet another who would try, I looked up from the table and out of the restaurant into the hotel lobby and almost dropped my coffee cup! I turned to my husband and said, ‘Gary, look . . . its Buddy!’ I literally lost my breath.”
I was speaking on the phone to Gary and Ramona Tollett in Arizona from my home in Bourbonnais, Illinois. Their voices carried a sense of enthusiasm for the subject but also reflected their age. They were dear friends of Buddy, so I’m guessing they are in their seventies. Ramona and Gary knew Buddy Holly well. They were back-up singers for “That’ll Be the Day” and “Looking for Someone to Love.”
“We recorded with Buddy for no pay. He was a friend and we just wanted to help out,” explained Gary. “That’s what good friends do.”
Buddy worked with Gary and produced several songs for his solo career. Buddy Holly and The Crickets backed Gary musically on his recordings of “Gone,” “Go Boy Go,” “Golden Rocket,” and several others. “Buddy and the band backed me in the same way,” Gary told me with real pride. “There was no money involved. We were all good friends and helped each other out when we could.”
Gary and Ramona performed live with Buddy, traveled with him, broke bread and laughed with him. They were not just friends. They were good friends. Dear friends. Ramona steered our conversation back to her original meeting with John Mueller. “We were in Clovis [New Mexico] to meet John. He had made quite an impression traveling around the country portraying Buddy, and so when we were in Clovis where he was performing, he called and invited us to the hotel for breakfast. We really were not prepared for who arrived. John walked in without shoes and wearing worn blue jeans and a white T-shirt.” Ramona laughed.
“Why is that funny?” I asked.
“That is what Buddy was wearing the last time we saw him,” replied Ramona. She paused a few moments. It was easy to sense the emotions building inside her. “John could not have known it, but the coincidence was quite moving. We made our introductions and sat down together at the table and the more we talked, the more we felt like we were seeing a long-lost friend.”
Gary and Ramona Tollett, who recorded and sang with Buddy Holly, standing in front of their home in Arizona.
Gary and Ramona Tollett
Gary agreed. “We loved Buddy. He was a good man and we could never detect that the success had changed him one bit. He was kind, humble, and excessively polite. That was just the way he was raised. He was taught to be a gentleman from his earliest years. His faith and his family,” he continued, “gave him a solid foundation to build a successful life and career.”
There was no doubt about it. They truly loved Buddy.
“As we spoke casually, getting to know John Mueller, we found so many similarities. The warmth and humility of Buddy was also present with John. But there was more,” Ramona continued. “The bone structure of his face, his smile—it was uncanny the similarities.”
“John was my introduction to Buddy. His song, ‘Hey, Buddy’ set me on this path searching for more,” I interjected. Both said they understood and that it was no surprise to them at all.
“As we expected, John asked us about Buddy,” said Gary. “We told John as we tell everyone: Buddy Holly was a good and honest Christian gentleman. He never angered, never swore, and never had a cross word for anyone. Off stage he was shy and reserved. On stage, he came alive as if he owned the stage and was born to perform.”
“He really did come alive on stage, didn’t he?” I asked.
“Yes,” Gary continued. “On stage he bubbled over with personality. We were performing together in Dumas, Texas, and Buddy was wearing a cotton sports coat. He was quiet and reserved as he prepared to walk out on the stage, but the moment he walked out he erupted with enthusiasm and brought the audience with him. Forty-five minutes later, he walked off stage and we could have wrung buckets of sweat out of that coat.”
It was at this point in our conversation that Gary and Ramona shared a fascinating story with me. “Paul McCartney invited us to New York in 1999 for Buddy’s birthday,” began Gary. “Paul told us that Buddy was a tremendous influence on The Beatles, their beginning and early success. He said that they watched their recording of “That’ll Be The Day” spin round and round. They listened to every word. Every note. They dissected it, trying to understand exactly what was being done musically. Every chord . . . every rhythm. They tried to figure out how to recreate Buddy’s unique sound,” Gary explained. “Then Paul looked at Ramona and said, ‘We thought you were a bunch of black guys.’ Of course, we laughed at that and Ramona stated the obvious, ‘I’m not a black guy!’ ‘No, you are not. You’re not even a black girl, I suppose,’ Paul McCartney answered to more laughter.”
John Mueller singing with former Buddy Holly friends Gary and Ramona Tollett. John Mueller
“Paul has deep respect for Buddy Holly and the Crickets” Gary added. “You could tell in the way he spoke of Buddy. There was and still is a sincere and lasting reverence there.”
I was really pleased to get to know Gary and Ramona and learn of their deep respect and friendship with Buddy. Throughout my conversation I kept telling myself I would not ask the question I am sure they are asked all the time . . . and then I asked it anyway. “Do you remember where you were when you heard the news of Buddy’s death?” For a few seconds an uncomfortable silence passed between us. I was really wishing I had not asked when Gary answered.
“Yes, of course.” His voice had changed. It was softer, laden with emotion.
“That was a sad, sad day,” added Ramona.
Gary continued. “I was a student at Texas Tech in Lubbock at that time. I was driving to class when I heard the radio report. I could not believe what I was hearing. I immediately drove to the Physics Department to try and see Ramona before she found out.”
“I was working at the Physics Department,” Ramona interjected.
“Ramona was putting me through school. I arrived at her building and fortunately she had not heard about it yet.”
There was a long pause. I wasn’t sure how to restart the conversation, but Ramona began again and saved me from saying something embarrassing.
“We attended the funeral service at the church,” she continued. “We just could not believe it. He was only twenty-two and at the top of his career. You are not supposed to die at twenty-two. He had so much going for him. His career. His new wife. She was pregnant, we learned later.”
“Yes. I heard,” I answered softly. “I’ve read that.”
“The church was packed. Everyone loved Buddy,” Gary said. “We did not go to the cemetery and have still not been there to this day.”
That revelation surprised me. “Why didn’t you go?” I asked, already suspecting the answer.
“I guess we just want to remember him as he was. It’s only his body there anyway. Buddy is somewhere else,” explained Gary. “We know where he is.”
My questions were forcing them to relive the entire heartbreaking experience. Earlier I could hear the happiness in their voices as we spoke of their time and experiences with Buddy. But now all I could sense and hear was a palpable sadness as they spoke about the loss of their friend. It was clear, however, that Gary and Ramona found solace in their faith.
“You want to really know who Buddy Holly was?” asked Ramona.
“Yes, of course,” I answered. Lately it was all I wanted to know.
“He bought his church new pews with his first royalty check.” She paused to let that sink in before continuing. “That . . . was Buddy Holly.”
The phone went silent.