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I adore Buddy Holly; his wife is gorgeous still. - Perdita
Love at first sight that even tragedy couldn't destroy - Buddy Holly's widow protects his legacy 45 years after his death
- Joel Selvin, Chronicle Senior Pop Music Critic - June 12, 2004
Maria Elena Santiago was working as a temporary receptionist at the Brill Building music publishing firm run by her aunt when Buddy Holly showed up for a meeting at the office.
"When he came though those doors, it was bang -- love at first sight," says his widow, in town last week for the opening of "Buddy: The Buddy Holly Story," a musical at the Post Street Theatre based on the life and music of her late husband, who died in a plane crash at age 22 in 1959.
He asked her out, but she had never before been on a date. Her parents died when she was young and she grew up with her strict, protective aunt in New York City. After considerable negotiations, her aunt agreed to allow the date. Holly proposed marriage to the beautiful Maria Elena on that first date and she accepted.
Six months later, he was dead and his pregnant wife miscarried when she heard the news on TV. "Who would expect such a thing?" says his still- beautiful 69-year-old Maria Elena.
She lives today in the tony Turtle Creek section of Dallas. Her second husband died 15 years ago ("That's another whole chapter," she says). She raised three children and has three young grandchildren. "But they don't call me grandma," she says firmly. For the past 45 years, she has been the able protector, defender and promoter of the legacy of the man to whom she was married for a couple of dozen happy, hectic weeks when they were just crazy kids.
"I froze there for a long time," she says in her lightly accented voice. "It was very difficult to listen to his music, to have anybody talking about him or asking me questions about him. But then I realized that this guy wanted people to know about his music."
She is a petite, trim woman, sweetly perfumed, in short, auburn hair and a tailored black suit. Her easy smile lights up her unlined face when she laughs, undoubtedly the same million-dollar smile that captivated the quiet, lanky Texas rock 'n' roller on that first date at the Upper East Side restaurant P.J. Clarke's. They moved into a Greenwich Village apartment only blocks from where Maria Elena grew up.
"He loved the neighborhood," she says. The two wandered the coffee houses and nightclubs of the area, soaking up the candlelit poetry readings and late- night jazz shows that must have seemed a long, long way from the West Texas nights he knew before.
They were on top of the world. Maria Elena, who set aside her own Broadway dreams when she met her husband, brought her music business savvy to the partnership and they were making plans for the future. She had contacted Lee Strasberg of the Actors Studio about acting lessons for her husband, who wanted to score movies, as well as act in them. He was making ambitious records in New York, adding strings and horn orchestrations to his rock 'n' roll songs. The couple had taken over management of his career, and Holly was producing records with other artists such as his bass player, Waylon Jennings. But the plane crash in the frozen Iowa tundra that February midnight brought it all to an end.
His music, however, lived. Despite a career lasting less than two years after his first record hit the charts, Buddy Holly's music became a central touchstone for all that followed. The Beatles may or may not have taken their name from Holly's backup group, the Crickets, but they definitely recorded his "Crying, Waiting, Hoping" on their first recorded audition. Paul McCartney later acquired all of Holly's music publishing rights.
The first hit single by the Rolling Stones was a Buddy Holly song, "Not Fade Away," also a key piece in the repertoire of the Grateful Dead. Bob Dylan, accepting his Grammy Award, thanked Holly, whom he saw perform on the fateful Winter Dance Party tour at the Duluth National Guard Armory. Holly was portrayed memorably by actor Gary Busey in a 1978 movie, "The Buddy Holly Story." The musical currently at the Post Street Theatre first opened in 1989 in London, where it ran for 13 years. There is a statue and the Buddy Holly Center in his hometown of Lubbock, Texas.
"People are still talking about him," Santiago says. "The music is still fresh, still going. His songs were simple, but there are no two alike."
His wife is not just the executor of the estate; she is the keeper of the flame. She attends most of the musical premieres and loves taking curtain calls with the "Buddy" cast, kicking them up at the end of the show like the dancer she has always been (this grandmother recently started taking kick- boxing lessons). The part she hates is getting up early for TV morning-show interviews, but she will often just wear dark glasses through the ordeal. "That's show business," she says.
She personally lobbied for a Texas bill to protect the rights to likeness of deceased celebrities after she saw Elvis Presley toilet paper being advertised for sale; the piece of landmark legislation is popularly known as "The Buddy Holly Law" because of her efforts. Her late husband's copyrights may have made her a comfortable woman long after his youthful death, but she does him proud.
Forty-five years later, his character and presence is fresh and vivid in her mind. She can describe him physically ("He was 6 feet tall, lean and lanky") and emotionally ("He was very quiet and reserved, but he was not shy"). Their youth is fixed in her mind and she clearly remains in his thrall.
"He must have been an old soul," says Santiago. "Otherwise how would he have been able to accomplish so much in such a short time?"
article with pics
Love at first sight that even tragedy couldn't destroy - Buddy Holly's widow protects his legacy 45 years after his death
- Joel Selvin, Chronicle Senior Pop Music Critic - June 12, 2004
Maria Elena Santiago was working as a temporary receptionist at the Brill Building music publishing firm run by her aunt when Buddy Holly showed up for a meeting at the office.
"When he came though those doors, it was bang -- love at first sight," says his widow, in town last week for the opening of "Buddy: The Buddy Holly Story," a musical at the Post Street Theatre based on the life and music of her late husband, who died in a plane crash at age 22 in 1959.
He asked her out, but she had never before been on a date. Her parents died when she was young and she grew up with her strict, protective aunt in New York City. After considerable negotiations, her aunt agreed to allow the date. Holly proposed marriage to the beautiful Maria Elena on that first date and she accepted.
Six months later, he was dead and his pregnant wife miscarried when she heard the news on TV. "Who would expect such a thing?" says his still- beautiful 69-year-old Maria Elena.
She lives today in the tony Turtle Creek section of Dallas. Her second husband died 15 years ago ("That's another whole chapter," she says). She raised three children and has three young grandchildren. "But they don't call me grandma," she says firmly. For the past 45 years, she has been the able protector, defender and promoter of the legacy of the man to whom she was married for a couple of dozen happy, hectic weeks when they were just crazy kids.
"I froze there for a long time," she says in her lightly accented voice. "It was very difficult to listen to his music, to have anybody talking about him or asking me questions about him. But then I realized that this guy wanted people to know about his music."
She is a petite, trim woman, sweetly perfumed, in short, auburn hair and a tailored black suit. Her easy smile lights up her unlined face when she laughs, undoubtedly the same million-dollar smile that captivated the quiet, lanky Texas rock 'n' roller on that first date at the Upper East Side restaurant P.J. Clarke's. They moved into a Greenwich Village apartment only blocks from where Maria Elena grew up.
"He loved the neighborhood," she says. The two wandered the coffee houses and nightclubs of the area, soaking up the candlelit poetry readings and late- night jazz shows that must have seemed a long, long way from the West Texas nights he knew before.
They were on top of the world. Maria Elena, who set aside her own Broadway dreams when she met her husband, brought her music business savvy to the partnership and they were making plans for the future. She had contacted Lee Strasberg of the Actors Studio about acting lessons for her husband, who wanted to score movies, as well as act in them. He was making ambitious records in New York, adding strings and horn orchestrations to his rock 'n' roll songs. The couple had taken over management of his career, and Holly was producing records with other artists such as his bass player, Waylon Jennings. But the plane crash in the frozen Iowa tundra that February midnight brought it all to an end.
His music, however, lived. Despite a career lasting less than two years after his first record hit the charts, Buddy Holly's music became a central touchstone for all that followed. The Beatles may or may not have taken their name from Holly's backup group, the Crickets, but they definitely recorded his "Crying, Waiting, Hoping" on their first recorded audition. Paul McCartney later acquired all of Holly's music publishing rights.
The first hit single by the Rolling Stones was a Buddy Holly song, "Not Fade Away," also a key piece in the repertoire of the Grateful Dead. Bob Dylan, accepting his Grammy Award, thanked Holly, whom he saw perform on the fateful Winter Dance Party tour at the Duluth National Guard Armory. Holly was portrayed memorably by actor Gary Busey in a 1978 movie, "The Buddy Holly Story." The musical currently at the Post Street Theatre first opened in 1989 in London, where it ran for 13 years. There is a statue and the Buddy Holly Center in his hometown of Lubbock, Texas.
"People are still talking about him," Santiago says. "The music is still fresh, still going. His songs were simple, but there are no two alike."
His wife is not just the executor of the estate; she is the keeper of the flame. She attends most of the musical premieres and loves taking curtain calls with the "Buddy" cast, kicking them up at the end of the show like the dancer she has always been (this grandmother recently started taking kick- boxing lessons). The part she hates is getting up early for TV morning-show interviews, but she will often just wear dark glasses through the ordeal. "That's show business," she says.
She personally lobbied for a Texas bill to protect the rights to likeness of deceased celebrities after she saw Elvis Presley toilet paper being advertised for sale; the piece of landmark legislation is popularly known as "The Buddy Holly Law" because of her efforts. Her late husband's copyrights may have made her a comfortable woman long after his youthful death, but she does him proud.
Forty-five years later, his character and presence is fresh and vivid in her mind. She can describe him physically ("He was 6 feet tall, lean and lanky") and emotionally ("He was very quiet and reserved, but he was not shy"). Their youth is fixed in her mind and she clearly remains in his thrall.
"He must have been an old soul," says Santiago. "Otherwise how would he have been able to accomplish so much in such a short time?"
article with pics
And not that way. P.
