He was twenty-one and on top of the world. The band he had joined as a fifteen-year-old drumming prodigy had skyrocketed to fame, bringing him endless wealth and notoriety. Pyromania, their third album, had spent the previous year selling over 100,000 copies a week, and their song “Rock of Ages” had knocked off Michael Jackson’s “Beat It” as MTV’s most-requested music video. Life had been very, very good to Rick Allen and Def Leppard.
With so much money coming their way, the band relocated to Dublin, Ireland, early in 1984 so that they could take advantage of lower taxes while they worked on the follow-up to Pyromania. There was tremendous pressure on the band to create another successful album, and things had become stressful. Original producer John “Mutt” Lange started the project but dropped out early on when he was overcome with exhaustion. They brought in Jim Steinman, the writer behind Meat Loaf’s Bat Out of Hell album, but his raw style didn’t gel with the band’s vision of a slicker sound. After Steinman left, the band took a crack at producing their new album on their own, but that plan fell apart as well. As winter arrived and 1984 came to a close, the band decided to scrap everything they had done and take a break over the holidays. The plan was to start fresh in the new year and record the album of their lives.
On the last day of 1984, Rick Allen was driving his Corvette to a New Year’s party in Sheffield, England, when the driver of the Alpha Romeo in front of him refused to let the Def Leppard drummer pass. According to Allen, he became frustrated and ended up recklessly passing the sports car. Going far too fast, he missed a turn in the A57 highway and lost control of his car. The Corvette tore off the road, flying through a stone retaining wall and coming to rest upside down in a field. In the passenger seat, his girlfriend was unhurt, held firmly in place by her seat belt. Allen wasn’t so fortunate. He had been thrown from the vehicle. Although he was alive, the seat belt had severed Rick Allen’s left arm as he flew out of the car. He lay in a field, conscious but in total shock, unaware of the trauma his body had just experienced.
A nurse who lived nearby heard the accident and ran out to help. She attended to Rick and put the severed limb on ice, hoping that it could be reattached. At the hospital, doctors initially reattached his arm, but in the days after it became clear that persistent infection prevented it from taking. Rick Allen suffered quite possibly the cruelest punishment that a drummer could suffer: he lost his left arm at the shoulder.
Like anyone in that circumstance, Allen’s immediate reaction was depression. He was in disbelief, and the reality of losing his arm took a few weeks to really sink in. As he began to rehabilitate, he slowly started to come to terms with the devastating fact that he would never again be able to play drums in Def Leppard. The pity didn’t last long, though. Rick immediately immersed himself in rehab and refused to waste any time feeling sorry for his situation.
As he was healing, Rick’s brother brought a portable stereo to his hospital room. At first the music angered Rick, because it was a constant reminder that he was not going to be able to continue as a musician. But over the course of a few days, the music in the background gave Rick an interesting realization. As the songs played, Rick found himself laying in his hospital bed playing along to the drum tracks, using only his feet and his right arm. While he was pretty sure he’d never play with a band like Def Leppard again, he was encouraged that someday he might be able to play drums.
When the band’s manager stopped by the hospital to see Rick, he braced himself for the news that Def Leppard was going to look for a new drummer. Instead, he was told to get better and rejoin the band! The album was in limbo and they figured they would be working on it for at least another year, so there was plenty of time for Rick to heal. “Get well,” they said, “and when you are ready to rock, we’ll be waiting for you.”
As soon as he was able to leave the hospital, Rick Allen was meeting with engineers and drum experts to create a custom drum set that he could play with two feet and one arm. It wasn’t always easy, but Rick was determined beyond description. When the band gathered to continue to work on their new album, Rick would lock himself away in a soundproof room for hours on end, playing and perfecting his parts. Meanwhile, the band would work on their portions using an electronic drum to keep the time. When Rick was ready, he revealed his work to the rest of the band … and blew them away. Def Leppard was back! They spent months together creating an album that they were proud of. Still, they had been gone for a few years. Would their fans remember them? Would they embrace a drummer with only one arm?
To test the waters, the band’s management booked a series of small concerts. The shows would be a test to see if the fans were receptive and if the band was ready for a world tour. To augment their one-armed drummer, Def Leppard hired Rick’s friend Jeff Rich of Status Quo to help out. For those first few shows they would alternate drums, with Rick doing the bulk of the work on his new custom drum kit and Jeff filling in where needed. But a few shows into the tour, Jeff had a commitment to Status Quo and couldn’t make the Def Leppard concert. That night, Rick Allen played all of the drum parts, and Jeff Rich happily handed in his resignation as part-time assistant drummer for Def Leppard.
The first major show the band played was the Donnington Festival, and it was an emotionally overwhelming event for all involved. Rick called it one of the most moving experiences of his life, looking out at eighty thousand fans and knowing he was really back. When Joe Elliot introduced the band to the audience, the crowd went wild when Rick’s name was called. The drummer stood up, and overcome with emotion, tears streamed down his face. Those powerful emotions washed over the whole band and many in the audience. When the band headed out on tour, a similar reaction greeted Rick Allen in every city in which they played.
Today, Rick Allen is still the drummer in Def Leppard. He has been playing drums with one arm for much longer than he ever played with two. The band continues to tour and draw thousands upon thousands of fans to every show. While his unique setup is no longer a novelty, it is still an amazing sight to see and sound to hear. Rick Allen creates a unique rhythmic thunder despite what would traditionally be called a “handicap.”
Rick is more than a drummer. He is the cofounder of the Raven Drum Foundation, a nonprofit group created to serve, educate, and empower veterans and people in crisis. Using drums and rhythm as their focal point, the charity has had tremendous success. He also oversees the One Hand Drum Company, a company that funds the foundation through the sale of Rick’s personalized merchandise. His signature item is his hand-drawn stick figure self-portrait known as StikRick. All of the One Hand Drum Company profits support the Raven Drum Foundation charity.
Although Rick Allen is a fantastic drummer, he isn’t as famous as he should be for his percussion skills. He isn’t remembered for the cool cowbell that opens “Rock of Ages.” His fame didn’t come from the fact that he was a child prodigy, joining Def Leppard at age fifteen. Rick Allen is famous thanks to the obstacle he conquered.
Is Rick Allen unusual? Yes, inasmuch as there aren’t a lot of one-armed drummers out there, especially ones that lost their arm at what appeared to be the height of their fame. But he really isn’t that unusual. His story isn’t all that different from many other stories. Overcoming obstacles and doing incredible work under difficult circumstances is a hallmark of the human spirit.
Captain Chesley Sullenberger was just another pilot at US Airways until January 15, 2009, presented him with the opportunity to do incredible work under difficult circumstances. “Sully” was the captain of US Airways flight 1354, scheduled to fly from New York’s La Guardia Airport to Charlotte, North Carolina. As the pilot in the left-hand seat, Sully was in charge of the plane and its passengers, and he was assisted in that role by his copilot, Jeffrey B. Skiles, and a crew of flight attendants. On this particular leg of the flight, the copilot was doing the actual flying and Sully was working the radios and navigation equipment. This was nothing unusual, as it is common practice for pilots to trade off duties throughout the day.
Shortly after taking off from La Guardia, the unthinkable happened: the plane flew into a flock of geese, ingesting several of them into the plane’s engines. Planes hit birds quite frequently, and normally it isn’t a major issue. On this day, it was. Something that had never happened before occurred: both engines were overwhelmed by the impact of the birds on their turbines, and both engines simultaneously died. The plane, only a few thousand feet into its climb, was suddenly left powerless above America’s largest and most densely populated city.
Like bird strikes, engine failures happen from time to time on airplanes. That’s why having two engines is so vital. Almost every type of aircraft can conduct normal operations on one engine. Under normal circumstances, with one engine failed, the pilot would have plenty of thrust available to keep the plane aloft until he could safely land at the nearest airport. But with both engines dead, Sully was forced to act.
He immediately took control of the aircraft and leveled the plane. Had the plane continued to attempt to climb without engines, it would have lost speed and stalled, sending it tumbling uncontrollably to the ground. With the plane level, he began to weigh his options.
The first option was to return to La Guardia, but to accomplish that he would need to fly in a pattern over the city to line up with the runway. There was no way his plane would maintain altitude long enough to return to La Guardia, and crashing into New York City would be devastating.
Sully’s second option was more promising. A few miles to the west, off the right side of the plane, was Teterborough Airport in New Jersey, a popular airport for executive jets and private planes. Sully and his copilot could see the runway, and air traffic was ready to reroute everyone else to accommodate the disabled US Airways flight, but the math didn’t work. Turning to the right would create an immediate loss of altitude, and there was no way they would make Teterborough.
The third option wasn’t really an option at all, but at this point it was all they had left. As the plane steadily lost altitude and speed, Sully surveyed the icy cold Hudson River below. Landing his plane in the water was the only way he had any chance to save the lives of the 155 people on board.
There is no checklist or manual for landing a fully fueled and fully loaded Airbus 319—without any engine power—on the water. It had never been done before—ever. Nobody had ever even contemplated such a thing.
Sully picked his spot carefully, far enough away from the many boats and ferries crossing the river as to not cause them harm, but close enough that they could help with the rescue operation. He struggled to keep the wings level. If one wing hit the water first, the increased drag could send the plane cartwheeling, surely killing everyone on board. As the plane neared the water, Sully raised the nose in order to slow it down. He wanted to hit the water at the slowest possible speed.
With 150 passengers bracing for their lives, Sully gently let the plane touch the water. Both engines made contact, simultaneously, and immediately the friction dragged the belly of the plane down into the water. For a moment it looked like it might submerge, and then the big jet slowed down, veered slightly to the left, and peacefully came to rest. From the air, it looked as if Sully had done this same maneuver a hundred times before. In that historic footage that most of us will never forget, the doors opened and passengers began to emerge, walking out onto the wings in the frigid air and stepping into the boats that had rushed to the rescue.
What Captain Sullenberger did that January afternoon made him a hero. He became an overnight celebrity. In his many years of flying, Captain Sullenberger had previously taken off and landed safely thousands of times. His record was impeccable. He had flown combat missions in the air force, had given young pilots the gift of learning how to fly, and had applied his skills as a glider pilot. For decades, he had been safely delivering our friends and family back to us with the seemingly routine skill of an expert pilot. But Captain Sullenberger will not be remembered in history for all of those noble yet ordinary accomplishments. He will be forever defined by the day he safely landed a disabled passenger jet on the Hudson River.
To listen to him on the radio, you would think that Shilo Bellis is just like any other radio personality. He hosts a daily show on Canadian radio station CJXL-FM, known as XL Country 96.9, in Moncton, New Brunswick. For years, Shilo has been entertaining his listeners and playing music by the country stars he loves. You would assume that the bulk of a radio host’s job happens when the microphone is on, but that’s not the case with Shilo. Most of his listeners have no idea about the incredible workload that Shilo faces when the microphone is turned off.
Behind the scenes, while songs by Tim McGraw, Brad Paisley, and Taylor Swift are playing, Shilo is listening intently, but not to music. Shilo is listening to a software program that reads back the text on the many computer screens around him. Shilo is blind; he can’t look at the list of songs he is about to play. He can’t glance down and see that a listener has texted him requesting the new Lady Antebellum hit. He can’t even look out the window to check the weather and remind you to turn your headlights on in the evening fog.
Using a special text-to-speech program, Shilo listens and gathers all of that information while the songs are playing. He collects it and stores it all in his hard drive of a memory and then flawlessly shares it with his listeners on the air without referencing any notes. Because he doesn’t use any written material, Shilo has a way of speaking from the heart and connecting on a very human level with his audience. Nothing he says to you is ever written down.
When you are listening to someone on the radio, there is no such thing as “blind” or “sighted.” You can’t tell if someone is tall or short, gay or straight, black or white, in a wheelchair or standing upright. And none of it matters to the listener. That’s one of the beautiful things about radio; a voice can be your friend without being judged.
However, within his industry Shilo is undoubtedly defined by the way he has overcome the obstacle of his blindness. It is what separates him from those who have succeeded without conquering an obstacle, or from those who have conquered a different kind of obstacle. There is nothing wrong with that! Certainly we should judge his talent as a broadcaster without giving special consideration to the challenges he has faced. Being a world-class radio host takes skill and talent, and vision or no vision, Shilo has both of those attributes. But there is nothing negative about respecting and recognizing him for the way in which he has conquered his obstacle. People within the radio industry have an increased level of respect for Shilo in the same way that aviators have an increased respect for Sully, and drummers have an increased respect for Rick Allen. Overcoming obstacles isn’t easy. Often it is easier just to give up than it is to fight.
Rick Allen fought and won, and created incredible music as a result.
Sully fought and won, and saved hundreds of lives in the process.
Shilo Bellis fought and won, and entertains thousands of people every day.
Your obstacle might not be visible to others. It might not be, comparatively, very big. Maybe it hasn’t appeared to you yet, but it will. It’s out there, and when it does appear, remember that you will forever be defined by how you handle it. Even if you don’t win, it is far better to be remembered as one who fought to the death than one who surrendered.
