On February 3, 1959, Buddy Holly was in the middle of the tour from hell and would do anything to avoid another three hundred mile, overnight bus ride that already had inflicted frostbite on another band member. That determination changed American popular music forever.
Buddy Holly, early Brunswick Records publicity photo
Charles Hardin Holley was born in Lubbock, Texas on September 7, 1936. The “e” in his surname would be dropped when Decca Records misspelled Holley on one of his first recording contracts. Nicknamed Buddy by his mother, as she considered “Charles,” too formal, he was the youngest of four siblings. The family was Baptist and deeply religious, attending church routinely but singing hymns from an early age probably developed Buddy’s interest in music. Despite Lubbock’s location in the heart of the bible belt, Holly was also intrigued by country and rhythm and blues popular tunes that were available via radio stations from larger midwestern radio stations. By the seventh grade, he was playing with another junior high school student, Bob Montgomery, in a duet called Buddy and Bob, mostly country music covers of artists like Hank Williams.
Norman Petty Studios, Clovis, New Mexico
1957 began with Buddy getting a predictable release from his Decca contract. If you were out of Lubbock, Texas in 1957 and had just been dropped from a major label there wasn’t much of a Plan B. The best Buddy could come up with was heading to Clovis, New Mexico and the Norman Petty Studio to pay for his own demo and hope to interest a regional industry professional, in this case Norman Petty, in getting interested in representing Holly. Norman Petty was one of the many small time independents that operated on the fringes of 1950’s rock and roll. Less successful than the legendary Sam Phillips of Memphis’ Sun records who discovered Elvis, Carl Perkins, Johnny Cash and Jerry Lee Lewis, Petty still had a reputation for recognizing performers that he plugged either to record companies or radio stations. But in early 1957, he also was still looking to get involved with talent that would translate into national success. That’s why, when Buddy Holly returned to Petty’s studio in January of 1957 and cut a demo, Norman recognized that Holly had greatly evolved. He told Buddy to get some more material together, polish it up and come back in February and they would seriously concentrate on developing a single, exactly the result Holly was looking for.
When he returned to Clovis on February 24, Buddy not only had three other backing musicians, Larry Welborn, Jerry Allison and Niki Sullivan, he also had Gary and Ramona Tollett as backup singers. Because Petty’s studio was close to a busy street with daytime noisy truck traffic, recording didn’t begin until after office hours. Petty wanted, “I’m Looking For someone To Love,” to be the “A” side of a single and when that was arduously completed over many hours, at 3 AM, it then took only four takes to record, “That’ll Be The Day.” Subsequently, Norman Petty claimed to have greatly influenced this session, Gary Tollett maintained that Buddy already had the arrangements down and all Petty did was arrange the microphones. Nevertheless, Petty then executed two of the more audacious moves in the history of Rock and Roll skullduggery. The first revolved around songwriting and publishing credits. Petty maintained that because he had provided the free use of his studio, had music connections in NY and was a known quantity in the business, his name should appear on the record as one of the songwriters. A known quantity, he explained, is better than some unknown kids from West Texas. He also offered to publish the music through his own Nor Va Jak publishing company, spinning this as a kind of business benefit, explaining that they wouldn’t have to worry about a thing. He didn’t emphasize that this would entitle him to fifty per cent of the publishing revenues, only that this was how the business worked. Buddy Holly was so thrilled that anyone would try to help him get somewhere that he didn’t give it a second thought.
Ritchie Valens
No Hollywood screenwriter would have attempted to put over the story of Valen’s overnight success at such a young age. When a well connected LA music producer named Bob Keene got a tip that a precocious sixteen year old phenom was performing at a movie theater in the Valley, he decided to check out the youngster performing as Ritchie Valenzuela. The teenager already had a following as the “Little Richard of the Valley,” and Keene signed him to a contract right away, promising to both help record and manage Ritchie’s career. After rehearsing Ritchie in the basement studio of his Silver Lake home, in June of 1958, Keane booked a session at Gold Star Studios, to put together a single. From this emerged Ritchie’s first song, Come on, Let’s Go!” Keane was involved in producing Sam Cooke’s first hit, “You Send Me,” and although he was financially outmaneuvered by his then business partner, Keane was an astute industry professional. He convinced Ritchie to change his professional name to Valens explaining that DJ’s wouldn’t play an obviously Latino artist on commercial pop radio. He then met with the music director of KFWB, a personal friend, who made playlist decisions for the biggest radio station in Los Angeles. Keene’s contact did not need much persuasion, within days of Ritchie’s first recording session, Come On, Let’s go was in the rotation at most Southern California radio stations. It gradually become a nationally popular song and Keane, wanting to put together enough material to allow Ritchie to headline on tour, quickly rushed Valens back into the studio. Having spent time driving the singer to various local shows in SoCal, Keane had heard Ritchie singing a Mexican folk song to himself on acoustic guitar, called La Bamba. Ritchie’s manager was intent on doing something with the song, but Valens did not like the idea of exploiting a traditional Mexican folk tune in a rock and roll song. Instead, in a repetition of how “Peggy Sue,” originated, Ritchie was intent on recording, “Donna,” a song about a high school classmate. Donna Ludwig was an Anglo 16 teen year old whose father would not have approved of even a fifties teen age romance with a Latino. She frequently took to climbing out of her bedroom window to meet Ritchie at local soda fountains and roller rinks. In the studio, Keane compromised. Ritchie would record both songs as A-Sides, giving him two shots at a potential hit. By November Donna was steadily rising up the charts, it would be at #3 in early February of 1959. By the time Ritchie Valens hit Chicago, he had dropped out of high school, bought his mother a house and was on the verge of banking over $100,000, heady stuff for a seventeen year old whose extended family previously subsisted on picking asparagus and plums in the yet undeveloped farmlands north of Los Angeles.
Buddy with Crickets Jerry Allison and Joe B. Mauldin
Holly was business savvy enough to remember and understand that his previous deal with Decca forbade him for five years to use any of the songs recorded during his tenure there. That included, “That’ll be the Day.” Petty’s second utterly brazen move to get around this was to suggest recording this with the name, as yet still undetermined, of a band. A couple of days later, because of their familiarity with another group known as the Spiders, Holly and Jerry Allison started to consider other insect names, actually considering the Beetles with a double EE before settling on the Crickets.
The Big Bopper aka JP Richardson
JP Richardson, aka the Big Bopper, known chiefly for his top 40 novelty hit of the previous September, Chantilly Lace. Richardson drew from his previous employment as a disc jockey, weaving comic dialog into an irrepressible melody while wearing a full length dyed leopard skin fur coat and white bucks, undoubtedly giving himself an interesting stage presence.
Waylon Jennings, country superstar, mid-seventies.
To fill out his backing band for the Winter Dance Party, Buddy convinced a Lubbock DJ and musician named Waylon Jennings to join as the bass player, despite Jennings having no bass experience. Buddy hung out a lot at the DJ’s station, WLLL the most popular in Lubbock and liked Jennings, he told Waylon he would buy him a bass and teach him everything he would need to know before the tour started.
On February 3, 1959, Buddy Holly was in the middle of the tour from hell and would do anything to avoid another three hundred mile, overnight bus ride that already had inflicted frostbite on another band member. That determination changed American popular music forever.
Buddy Holly and Waylon Jennings in a NY photo booth.
In mid-January, when the three band members got to NY, Allsup and Bunch checked into a hotel, but Waylon Jennings stayed with Buddy and Maria. Time was of the essence and Buddy figured he needed as much time as possible to get Waylon up to speed. It was also during this time period that Maria informed Buddy that she was pregnant, news they kept even from Buddy’s parents.
The Surf Ballroom, Clear Lake , Iowa
After the equipment was offloaded, Buddy collared the Surf Ballroom’s manager Carroll Anderson and asked him about chartering a plane. Anderson knew of an associate named Jerry Dwyer, who operated a flying service out of a small regional airport in nearby Mason City. Dwyer was out at a Chamber of Commerce meeting, but Anderson was able to get a hold of a pilot who worked for Dwyer, 21 year old Roger Peterson, who immediately agreed to fly the charter. During an intermission before Dion and the Belmonts and Buddy Holly finished the show, word began to spread among the musicians that Buddy was going to fly. Initially, there were two seats on board and Holly figured that he would offer them to his two band members, Jennings and Allsup. But once the Big Bopper found out about the charter, he approached Jennings and asked if he could take his spot, as long as Buddy said it was okay. Waylon Jennings knew that JP Richardson was quite sick and he was also a headliner so he agreed to give up his seat. When Holly heard that Jennings had bailed on the flight, he figured Jennings was just too scared to fly. Laughing at his bass guitarist, he said, “I hope your bus freezes up!,” Jennings responded without thinking. “I hope your plane crashes,” a comment he would both keep private and feel guilty about for many subsequent years.
The wreckage of Buddy Holly’s plane, February 3, 1959
None of the nearby farmers noticed anything unusual until Cerro Gordo county sheriff deputies pulled up to the farm of Albert Juhl, who opened the gate to his property and watched as the two policeman rapidly headed west, quickly able to see the wreckage of the plane in the distance, lodged where it came to a stop against a barbed wire fence separating the Juhl farm from some adjoining properties. As they pulled up to the scene, the body of the pilot was visible in the wreckage, and what was eventually identified as the bodies of Valens and Buddy Holly were within twenty feet of the plane’s remains. JP Richardson was hurled from the crash over the barbed wire fence, lying forty feet away as small amounts of snow were swirled around the bodies and the wreckage,
Buddy Holly’s grave, Lubbock, Texas
Back in Mason City, Buddy Holly’s brother arrived to pick up his brother’s body and take it back for burial in Lubbock, visiting the crash site before the plane wreckage was hauled off to a hangar at the airport.
Ritchie Valens grave, San Fernando, California
Valens was put on a train to Southern California. By the weekend, funerals were conducted for all four of the deceased, family members and fans still in a state of shock.
Crash site today, Clear Lake, Iowa
The site of the crash is now a makeshift shrine and pilgrimage site despite the fact that it is situated on private property. Alfred Juhl sold his land in the early sixties to another local family, the Nicholas’. Over time they have erected a simple memorial to the musicians, as well as Roger Peterson on the exact spot along the fence line where the plane came to a halt. To guide those interested in finding the spot they have erected a sculpture on the highway resembling Buddy’s horn rimmed glasses, marking the path that leads to the site. Every year they purposely do not plant corn or soybeans on the path or in the vicinity of the markers, encouraging visitors to access this remarkable spot at no charge. And from the very first days after the crash, locals have noticed that people do come to the site, first just a trickle from the region but today, over sixty years later, by the thousands from all over the world,
Possessing a 167 IQ, admitted to Harvard University at age 16, a uniquely talented mathematician, this former Berkeley college professor became the subject of the longest and most expensive investigation in FBI history.
Ted’s high school yearbook photo.
As a youngster, Ted did develop a precocious interest in reading, math and science, his mother reading to him articles from Scientific American that he could comprehend by the time he was six. He excelled in grade school but even at this young age was determined to avoid contact with others, usually spending time by himself in his room with the door shut, especially when visitors came to his home.
Math Club in high school, second from left, standing.
Kaczynski moved on to Evergreen Park Community High School. On paper, he might have seemed to be the model student. He joined the school band playing the trombone, and became a member of the math, coin, biology and German clubs. Classmates described him as the smartest kid in his class. But his inability to fit in socially and his self imposed isolation from any normal high school activities like sock hops and athletic events underlined his almost stereotypical profile as the quintessential nerd, complete with glasses, pencil pocket protector, slight physical stature, and painfully shy personality.
With Ted, Sr. and David.
Ted Kaczynski was born on May 22, 1942 in Chicago, Illinois. His father, Theodore, Ted, Sr. spent much of his adult working life as a sausage maker in a factory owned by a relative.
The 1994 composite that intrigued the nation.
The most distinct aspect of this particular attack was that, for the first time, an eyewitness observed the Unabomber in the act. An FBI sketch artist immediately put together a composite that was deemed unsatisfactory. Then a freelance artist was hired to try again. Both of these sketches were only used on a local Sacramento and very limited national basis, the FBI still insisting on not publicizing a potential serial bomber. The secretary also continually maintained that the two original sketches did not really resemble the man she saw. It would not be until 1994, when public awareness was already rampant and the FBI, still no closer to solving the case and knowing that the sketches they had were inaccurate, that a third sketch was developed and released, this time the much more familiar composite, which became a popular culture icon. This rendition, by veteran criminal sketch artist Jeanne Boylan featured a hooded, grim looking man, with curly hair, a strong chin and very large, aviator sunglasses. Her Unabomber would quickly become ubiquitous and greatly add to the criminal’s mystique.
Possessing a 167 IQ, admitted to Harvard University at age 16, a uniquely talented mathematician, this former Berkeley college professor became the subject of the longest and most expensive investigation in FBI history.
Kaczynski’s drivers license.
But Kaczynski had another motive for heading to Chicago. Before he left Montana on a Greyhound bus, he constructed the first of his explosive devices. He meant to send it to a professor at RPI, but when he got to Chicago in late May of 1978, the box wouldn’t fit in a mailbox so he merely left it at the University of Illinois-at Chicago in between two parked cars, the device eventually returned to the professor believed to have mailed via the professor’s presumed return address at Northwestern University. But Kaczynski was disappointed when there was not any media mention of what happened with this device. After leaving the device he showed up at his parents’ house without any specific notice.
Unabomber wanted poster.
Because a fatality finally occurred, the FBI would not have sole jurisdiction in the ensuing investigation. The homicide division of the Sacramento police department also became involved but immediately found the situation frustrating. Despite their belief that the more publicity about the bomber that was released to the public the better, the Sacramento police were told that, no, the FBI did not want to alert the Unabomber to the fact that they knew of his existence. The local police felt that the FBI was more concerned with the fact that after ten years of bombings, the FBI had no idea who the perpetrator was. The Bureau’s explanation was illogical in that by stamping FC on each bomb the killer was trying to let them know that he was responsible for numerous attacks. This would not be the first FBI investigation that was driven as much by public relations as it was by criminal investigation. Within weeks Sacramento homicide found themselves being excluded from meetings and ignored. Both they and the FBI got nowhere in trying to even begin to figure out who killed Hugh Scrutton.
David Kaczynski as an adult.
In Schenectady, in mid-1995, David Kaczynski was now the assistant director of the Equinox Youth Shelter, an institution that catered to teenagers. In the summer of 1995, With the high profile of the Unabomber pervading popular media, his wife began suggesting that Ted might have something to do with the bombings. She read that the FBI maintained that the Unabomber grew up in Chicago, spent time in Berkeley and had at least recently travelled to Salt Lake City. Linda Patrik had never met Ted, but was aware of his extreme animosity towards her, had read his correspondence with David and had lengthy conversations with her husband, attempting to convince him that Ted was mentally ill. At first he dismissed the notion, but, as much out of curiosity, he eventually got a hold of the manifesto to see if it resonated in any way. At the same time, Linda got a copy of the initial portion of the manifesto online as the Union College library’s printed copies had been stolen. After the pair read even a small part of the screed, they were both alarmed. Subsequently, unable to dismiss Ted as the perpetrator of these acts, David then went back and documented when he had sent Ted money for loans. It turned out that the devices that killed Thomas Mosser and Gilbert Murray were sent within one month and three months respectively from when checks were sent to Ted.
Kaczynski minutes after his arrest at a cabin rented by the FBI.
Kaczynski had a habit of not letting strangers inside his cabin, usually stepping outside if necessary and shutting the door behind him. This time, he did not even fully emerge but hesitated with the door open while Burns distracted him with conversation. The Forest Service agent was close enough to grab him by the wrist and after a brief struggle all three men were able to get Kaczynski into handcuffs. He was immediately conveyed to a nearby rented cabin and although talkative, refused to answer any questions about the Unabomber case.
Mug shot.
Ted Kaczynski was indicted by a grand jury in June of 1996, on ten counts concerning four of the bombings, including the fatal bombings of Hugh Scrutton, Tom Mosser and Gilbert Murray. Because these bombs either exploded in or were sent from Sacramento, California, Ted was transported to Sacramento, where he would stand trial after being pronounced mentally fit. If convicted, Kaczynski was potentially subject to the death penalty an outcome that his two public defenders were desperate to avoid.
Prison photo taken at Supermax
Predictably, Ted Kaczynski, unlike most of his Florence counterparts, including Timothy McVeigh, Ramzi Youssef, Eric Rudolph, shoe bomber Richard Reid, and Zacarious Moussauai, almost seemed to flourish in his new environment. His cell is small, but still larger than the freezing, soot filled shack that was home for 25 years. He has published several book length collections of essays and commentary with the aid of University of Michigan-Dearborn philosophy professor David Skrbina. His correspondence with over 400 individuals and materials relevant to his case was donated to the University of Michigan and is archived in a special collection. Unlike the photographs at the time of his arrest, current official mugshots depict him as well groomed with a pleasant demeanor.
Adolf Hitler intended the 1936 Berlin Olympics as a coming out party for his Aryan Master Race. African-American Jesse Owens crashed the venue by winning four gold medals.
Jesse Owens 1936
At the Penn Relays, he won the long jump and the 100 meter dash. Unfortunately for Eulace Peacock, the sprinter completely tore his hamstring during a preliminary heat, an injury so severe that Peacock was unable to make the 1936 Olympic Games.
Jesse Owens and Ralph Metcalfe, Olympic trials, 1936
Owens qualified easily, winning the 100 and 200 meter sprint and the long jump competition at the Olympic trials at Randall’s Island. His chief American competition came from Ralph Metcalfe in the 100 and Mack Robinson in the 200, Robinson the older brother of future Brooklyn Dodger, Jackie Robinson. Eighteen black Americans qualified for the US Olympic team, two of them women, almost four times the number of African-American competitors at the 1932 Olympic games in Los Angeles.
Jesse Owens wins 100 meters at Berlin.
For a gold medal in the 100 meters, Jesse Owens would have to win four consecutive races, but the competition in Monday’s first two heats was minimal, several sprinters in the Big Ten much tougher competition. Jesse cruised easily to victory, in the first heat by seven yards and the quarter finals by four yards, breaking his own world record in a time of 10.2 seconds. While Owens victories were not a surprise, what was astonishing was the response of the crowd when his name was announced and after he crossed the tape in first place. Anticipating that a German crowd politically attuned to the current Nazi master race theories would ignore or even vent hostility toward a Black American, instead the massive crowd roared their approval.
Hitler enters Berlin Olympic Stadium
Elsewhere in the stadium, Two German athletes were generating their own excitement. Hans Woelke and Ottilie “Tilly” Fleischer won gold in the men’s shot put and women’s discus, respectively, the first track and field Olympic gold medals ever won by Germany. Afterwards, they were summoned to Hitler’s personal box, where both were personally congratulated by Hitler and Hermann Goering. Later in the afternoon, when three Finns swept the medals in the 10,000 meters distance race, they were also invited to Hitler’s box and congratulated.
Hitler reviewing stand, Leni Riefenstahl visible to the right.
But by the time the event concluded, and with the weather getting progressively colder with rain starting to fall, Adolf Hitler left the arena before the high jump medals ceremony and without a personal invitation to the black American Johnson. This did not go unnoticed especially by the American press who focused the first day’s coverage on the perceived snub. It also was noticed by Henri de Baillet-Latour, the President of the International Olympic Committee, who was hoping to lower the volume on politics and did not want Hitler to become the focal point of the current games. He is said to have either forbidden Hitler to personally congratulate winners or to have told Hitler that he needed to congratulate every winner, regardless of race or country of origin. The most popular interpretation is that Hitler, figuring that at least one black man, Jesse Owens was a shoe in to win at least one medal, then decided to stop publicly congratulating any of the winners.
Jesse Owens and Luz Long after competition, 1936
Later that afternoon, at 4:30 he participated in the long jump semi-final that served to eliminate ten of the remaining sixteen competitors. Both Owens and Luz Long broke the existing Olympic record, jumping well over 25 feet to the delight of the crowd and setting up a climactic final. Owens faulted on his first jump of the finals and his German competitor regressed to 25 feet, four inches but on his second jump Long pressed Owens to the limit with a leap of 25 feet, 10 inches. Owens responded like a true champion establishing a new Olympic record with a jump of 26 feet. When Long faulted on his third and last try, Owens had won his second gold. Not to leave anything on the table, his final attempt measured 26 feet, 5.5 inches another Olympic record. Long was the first to congratulate him after the American landed in the sand, the crowd also roaring over this exceptional feat. Together, the two athletes walked on the track arm in arm, in clear view of the spectators including Adolf Hitler.
Luz Long behind Jesse Owens, Long Jump medals ceremony, 1936
But, after sharing this moment of sportsmanship, Long was conveyed to a private room under the stands where he was personally greeted and congratulated by Hitler and his entourage. There would no such interaction by Hitler with Jesse Owens or any other black member of the American contingent. Hitler did also privately meet and greet with Helen Stephens, the 18 year old American phenomenon who won the Womens 100 meters, underlining Hitler’s apparent desire to ignore any success on the part of Black Americans, even unofficially.
Adolf Hitler wanted the 1936 Berlin Olympics to be a coming out party for his Aryan Master Race. Jesse Owens crashed the venue by winning four gold medals.
Jesse Owens in the 1936 Olympic Long Jump
Owens then had to hustle to the long jump competition which also began at 10:30 AM. Here he faced an athlete from Germany who was his first formidable foreign competition, a 22 year old German; Carl Ludwig “Luz” Long. Long was the current German and European record holder, not quite Owens equal but certainly dangerous if Jesse should falter. And, proving that he was human, Jesse did initially stumble during what should have been an easy qualification. He was charged with his first of three jumps when he typically jogged on the runway and through the landing area just to get a feel for the surface. This American warmup practice was unknown in Europe and despite even the head coach of the American track and field contingent getting into the face of the officials, the practice jump counted. The incident seemed to rattle Owens, his second jump was only 23 feet, 3 inches, short of what he needed to qualify for the next round and more than three feet shorter than his own world record.
Avery Brundage, 1941
Conversely, and fortunately from Nazi Germany’s perspective, the head of the American Olympic Committee, Avery Brundage, was adamantly opposed to any interference in American Olympic participation due to politics. Brundage, a wealthy and dictatorial administrator, once famously stated that the Olympic Games belong to the athletes and not to the politicians. He officially travelled to Germany to assess the situation and after a series of carefully choreographed interactions with German officials, he was able to convince the IOC to agree to US participation.
Jesse Owens cottage used during 1936 Olympics today.
Although he was due to run in the finals of the 200 meters on Wednesday, August 5, Jesse Owens tried to throttle back some of the intensity of the previous 48 hours. He was already the biggest celebrity of the Olympic games and despite his attempt to sleep late on Wednesday morning, his brick guest house swarmed with fans and even athletes crowding around the windows trying to get a glimpse of the American track star.
Jesse Owens publicity info for one of his clothing chain jobs
Jesse would have to hustle for the next few years to make a living with more barnstorming tours and various promotional gigs associated with black clothing stores and dry cleaning establishments.
With German Chancellor Willy Brandt at 1972 Olympics
1972 also brought another Olympics, this the ill-fated games at Munich which involved the terrorist murder of 11 Israeli Olympic athletes. Despite this tragic event and in spite of some controversy over whether the games should continue they did and Jesse Owens got caught up in mediating another racially charged situation.
Tommie Smith and John Carlos, Mexico City protest, 1968.
Jesse Owens travelled to the 1968 Olympics as a guest of the Mexican government, a consultant to the US Olympic Committee and a radio commentator for the Mutual broadcasting network. Although Owens must have been astonished when long jumper Bob Beamon broke the existing world record by almost two feet, much more impactful was a coordinated protest by two black track athletes, Tommy Smith and John Carlos. Winning gold and bronze respectively, in the 200 meters, while on the victory podium the two athletes raised their black gloved fists during the playing of the American national anthem. While the protest caused a media sensation that reverberated around the world, it prompted great anger from the US Olympic committee and especially Avery Brundage, still the President of the IOC. Owens was sent to meet with a group of athletes to attempt to mitigate the situation and possibly extract a face-saving apology before the IOC punished anyone. He failed miserably to even get any white participants to leave the meeting, the consensus that they supported Smith and Carlos more than he did. Sadly, the lengthy session deteriorated into anger and recriminations. The next day the IOC kicked Carlos and Smith out of the Olympic Village and suspended them from Olympic competition. When questioned as to why it was acceptable for Germans to use the Nazi salute on the victory stand, but that Smith and Carlos’ behavior was unacceptable, Avery Brundage actually replied that the Nazi salute was the accepted national salute in the country in that time period.
Jerry Ford awarding the Medal of Freedom
Jesse Owens spent the next eight years doing what he had done for some time, public speaking. By now, he would enthrall audiences with yarns about being personally snubbed by Hitler and the help he received from Luz Long and other tales, occasionally admitting to particularly determined journalists that these stories were embroidered so that “people got to hear what they wanted to hear and I got paid for telling them.” He received an honorary degree from Ohio State, awards from the NCAA, induction into the track and field Hall of Fame, the Medal of Freedom from President Gerald Ford and the Living Legends Award from President Jimmy Carter, Owens now perceived as a national treasure without any partisan stigma.
“Jesse Owens: An American Life,” by William J. Baker.
Also: “Triumph: The Untold Story of Jesse Owens and Hitler’s Olympics,” by Jeremy Schaap.
The music used in the intro for both episodes was, “Island Woke,” by Freedom Trail Studio. The music for the outro of part one was, “Pouring Out,” by Asher Fulero. The music for the outro of part two was, “Boreal,” also by Asher Fulero.
Of Some Very Famous People You've Never Really Heard Of…In Less Than An Hour.
