Morning Open Thread is a daily, copyrighted post, from a host of editors and guest writers. We support our community, invite and share ideas, and encourage thoughtful, respectful dialogue in an open forum.
This series was conceived as a haven where folks can drop in to share conversation, ideas, weather reports, and music. Feel free to leave a note, comment, picture, or tune. As always the diarist gets to sleep in, and may show up long after the post is published. So you know, it's a feature, not a bug.
Pull up a chair, get your cup of tea, coffee, or other favorite morning beverage and join us for a neighborly start to the day ahead.
This crew seemed to like the eclectic selection of music I used last week. This time, I thought I would feature musicians who met untimely ends by flying into weather neither they, nor their aircraft, were capable of navigating.
Every instrument rated pilot knows that a pilot untrained in instrument flying has about 270 seconds to live once they enter IMC (Instrument Meteorological Conditions). All these losses were both terribly tragic and preventable.
Buddy Holly, Big Bopper, and Ritchie Valens were in a chartered Beechcraft Bonanza, rented because they were in a rush to get to their next stop. They never made it. The pilot was not fully qualified to fly on instruments when they took off in a winter snowstorm. February 3, 1959 would be, “The Day the Music Died.”
“Gentleman” Jim Reeves had a wonderful gentle voice that crossed the line between country and popular music. He was a licensed pilot, but did not have an instrument rating. He was flying back to Nashville from Batesville, Arkansas with his friend and manager, Dean Manuel. Manuel was also his backing pianist.
On July 31, 1964 he flew into bad weather near Brentwood, Tennessee, just outside Nashville. He was almost home when he became disoriented and crashed. This is a song that has special meaning for me (and Sockpuppet).
Patsy Cline needs no introduction or explanation. She was not a pilot herself, but was flying with a non-instrument rated pilot near her Nashville home. They were on their way back from Kansas City, when they stopped for gas at Dyersburg, Tennessee. From Wikipedia:
The Dyersburg, Tennessee, airfield manager suggested that they stay the night because of high winds and inclement weather, offering them free rooms and meals. But Hughes, who was not trained in instrument flying, said "I've already come this far. We'll be there before you know it." The plane took off at 6:07 p.m.
It was March 5, 1963. Her watch was stopped at 6:20.
John Denver was a skilled pilot, but in a moment of distraction he forgot the First Rule of aviation: “First, fly the plane”
He had just bought a homebuilt airplane, a Rutan Long-EZ. That is a small, sleek fiberglass plane designed by the legendary Bury Rutan. He was checking the plane out when it ran out of gas at an altitude of approximately 500 feet. The gas tank switch was in a non-standard place, and while trying to switch tanks, his plane crashed.
Of the many beautiful songs he composed, Annie’s Song is one of my favorites. It is a paean to his wife. I can relate.
This MOT is a tribute to those we lost in crashes, but their legacy lives on.
Wednesday Lagniappe:
Willie and Kris are still with us. Waylon and Johnny are gone now, but the Highwaymen still ride.
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