On Feb. 3, 1959, I was a 17-year-old Freshman at UT, cooking breakfast at a co-op at 6 a.m. when one of the guys came in and said that Buddy Holly, Richie Valens and The Big Bopper had been killed earlier that morning in a plane crash.
I was cooking scrambled eggs and spam, and the guy who told me about their deaths was named Jeff Mullins, from Dallas.
Funny how you remember such things.
I was cooking scrambled eggs and spam, and the guy who told me about their deaths was named Jeff Mullins, from Dallas.
Funny how you remember such things.