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The soundtrack for this edition of Measured Movements begins with one of two takes of Little Richard's October 18, 1957 recording sessions for "Ooh! My Soul," found on the 73 track LITTLE RICHARD / The Specialty Sessions boxset. It is followed up by an early test recording of Ritchie Valens performing the same song, then his own 1958 "Ooh! My Head" composition influenced by it. Following that is Led Zeppelin's "Boogie With Stu," which Ritchie Valens was later acknowledged of having influenced. Clearly Rock'n'Roll is a musical community.

This look at Ritchie Valens takes you right into the heart of the community from which young Ritchie came with love, and returned one final time admit tears.

As he grew up in the poorer North East side of the San Fernando Valley, young Richard Valenzuela was surrounded with music that he quickly fell in love with. His mother, Connie, was a big fan of Mexican balladeers and mariachi music, while his father, Steve, loved a variety that included flamenco, jump blues and R&B. Encouraged by his father to learn to play the guitar and trumpet, young Ritchie soon proved to be a "natural" and taught himself percussion. As early as five years old, he was also playing music of his own creation, even making musical instruments of his own.

As Rock And Roll started to boil over, artists like Little Richard replaced his early "singing cowboy" heroes and soon young Ritchie had a reputation as the "Little Richard of San Fernando."

The impact he had on the youth in that corner of the world was easily more significant there than anywhere else. I know, because I was there and I have memories of the pride and love felt for Ritchie.

My father moved our family to Pacoima in the early 1950s so he could own a home near the aviation industry he was a part of. Back then Pacoima was actually one of those classic communities with a "good" side and a "bad" side of the tracks, which actually ran along San Fernando Road (then a major artery prior to the 5 and 210 freeways). On our side we had predominantly caucasian neighbors with last names like Frackler and Brown, whose blond daughters I had an early interest in.

Ritchie mostly grew up at his father's home at 13058 Fillmore, a street just 3 blocks away from our modest but nicely manicured Daventry Street home. But he was almost in a different world, about 2 miles away, well beyond where the terminated streets restarted on the "other side of the tracks," deep in an area known for darker skin, the poverty of "The Projects" and crime. None of that, however, had any apparent ill effect upon Ritchie, who grew up one of the nicest young gentlemen any parent could ever hope for.

Our paths personally crossed twice during his brief but brilliant streak as a shooting star in the exciting new universe of Rock'n'Roll.

I was 11 years old at the time, with my first job, delivering the morning Hearst newspaper, the Los Angeles Examiner. Having heard the birth of Rock'n'Roll from the backseat of my father's futuristic 1952 Studebaker Commander as well as the cheap transistor radios my brother Alfred loved to "fix," I was well aware of the fact that Ritchie Valens was an exciting new star who came from our area.

RITCHIE VALENS, the 17 year-old shooting star.

13058 Fillmore in Pacoima, California.

1985 mural by Manuel Velazquez at Pacoima Jr. High.

New Ritchie Valens Recreation Center.

Old Paxton Park Pool, renamed in tribute.

3 CD boxset recently released by Del-Fi.

One of the Sunday-only customers on my Pacoima route was a woman who had fallen behind on her monthly payments. When she boasted she was Ritchie Valens' aunt and she'd let me meet him, I honestly thought she was humoring me so I wouldn't discontinue her service. But I remember the next time collections came up, going to her front door in the night time hour she had told me she would be home, thinking she might not have all the money she now owed (which wasn't much really). To my surprise, Ritchie Valens answered the door and paid the bill in full. I was so stunned I didn't know what else to say but "thank you" when he told me to keep the change. We just looked at each other in the glow of the porch light for one long silent moment, he smiled. I smiled back. Then somewhat awkwardly I headed off to my bicycle, a sleek English racer I had customized with elevated motorcycle handlebars. As I peddled away at full clip, I remember gasping out loud, "Wow!"

The next time was at Bob's Records, a small record store on Celis Street, next to the J.C. Pinney department store in San Fernando. I no longer remember what I walked in for. Clearly I was considering spending some of my money on Rock'n'Roll. The store was empty except for owner Bob and, sitting on the counter talking with him, Ritchie Valens. It was obviously an informal thing. Ritchie wasn't there signing records nor doing a promo of any sort. I have no idea whether he recognized me or not, but he gave me a big friendly "Hi!" Unfortunately, I can't honestly recall anything further about that encounter, other than I probably didn't say much and that might have been the time I purchased one of his Del-Fi singles, none of which I ever got autographed. (I've never really been someone to ask for signatures, unless missing from a check or contract)

Although Ritchie was only 17 then, he still seemed like a fully grown man to me. And, I had always just assumed that was because I was only 11 then. But, in reading the nice booklet which accompanies the marvelously put together new boxset, I learned even adults affectionately called him "old man" because he did appear older than he was.

Not that I could have said I "knew" Ritchie Valens, but those two events were major in my life. Although my father had been the personal airplane mechanic for TV's "Sky King" at nearby Whiteman Airport, this was not only my own first contacts with a celebrity ~ it was my first real contact with a music I loved. Eventually Johnny Burnette, The Iron Butterfly and others would move into the general neighborhood. But what was special about Ritchie Valens was that he was a "homeboy" who proved you could do what you wanted to do most, no matter what the odds, if you just applied yourself to your best.

Still reportedly shy and somewhat reclusive, 16 year-old Ritchie had achieved such a level of musical expertise that he was asked to join one of the area's top rock groups as a featured performer. Barely out of junior high school, he was soon spreading his reputation at high school hops, dances and private parties. Then one Friday night in May 1958, a 22 year-old printer delivering some business cards to Bob Keane, who had already scored a hit record with Sam Cooke's "You Send Me"/"Summertime," raved so much about the young Ritchie that the following morning Keane drove out to the Panorama Theater to catch Ritchie at a matinee performance. The rest is history, the soon-renamed Valens and "Bobbo" started doing some demo basement tapes at Keane's home. Then, about July 8th, Ritchie entered Hollywood's Gold Star Recording Studio for his first recording session. The results were startling with "Come On, Let's Go!" quickly becoming a top regional hit that went on to score nationally.

Soon Ritchie was making friends with people like Bo Diddley and Eddie Cochran, whose girlfriend (songwriter Sharon Sheeley) gave him the rocker "Hurry Up." He was fast becoming a major new force in the music business with his original vocal stylings, songwriting and guitar styles. Yet in the midst of all this he never lost touch with his roots. In between his national September chart action with "Come On, Let's Go" and the ultra rare achievement of a major two-sided national hit with "Donna" / "La Bamba", he performed at the Halloween party of schoolmate Gail Smith. Then between trips to Hawaii and Dick Clark's American Bandstand and other prominent gigs, he returned to his own schools to play concerts for his growing legions of local "friends" at San Fernando High School and an assembly at Pacoima Jr. High School. And, as the money started coming in and Ritchie's star status looked secure, he purchased a new home for his mother not out of the area, but on Remington Street, in Pacoima.

Recorded non-professionally, the Pacoima Jr. High concert, on which Gail Smith can be heard as emcee, was originally released in 1960 because of persistent fans' requests, and, although long unavailable, can be heard again along with virtually every demo and studio recording ever made by Ritchie on the new 3 CD boxset.

Hopefully this boxset will finally fire up the momentum that even the major 1987 "La Bamba" movie somehow failed to spark with the Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame, which has yet to even nominate this rock legend. Famous for such oversights as Rock'n'Roll's first great influential band, The Johnny Burnette Trio, and other hugely popular innovators like Deep Purple and Jethro Tull, one can only wonder what the "Rockhall's" priorities are.

Maybe the entire scope of Ritchie Valens' career lasted but eight months. But one need not reflect on what Ritchie Valens would have done had he lived, to gauge his significant impact upon the music. His accomplishments strongly stand as a testament to his influence upon the music. Listen to the way his singing and guitar put his own stamp on such hits as Larry Williams' "Boney Maronie" or his definitive rendition of Leiber & Stoller's "Framed." ~ The way he breathed a new soul into Rock's "Roll" with his compositions of "Donna," "In A Turkish Town," or his treatment of "Bluebirds Over The Mountain." Listen to "From Beyond," recorded "live" only moments after its creation at Pacoima Jr. High and tell me it isn't a predecessor to the Surf Sound. Then there's his merging of Mexican and American folk influences into Rock And Roll. "La Bamba" has been called a major rock music influence by an impressive array that includes musicians like John Lennon and Jimmy Page to respected critics like Lester Bangs. Ritchie's singing and fusing of various elements for an electrifying new musical tension has also been observed by countless other music historians. Even rebellious rock punkers and straight-out mainstream performers are united in having picked up some important lessons from this teenager who tragically died too young.

Test of Time? He passed it long ago. In June of 1985, two years before the movie and 27 years after his rise began, a collage portrait mural of Ritchie Valens in action before an excited audience, along with the tragic scene and news report of the Iowa crash that killed him along with Buddy Holly and The Big Bopper, was painted on a wall at Pacoima Jr. High (now named Pacoima Secondary School). In a city infamous for the daring disrespect of graffiti taggers, this mural has survived the years as only a mural of the Blessed Virgin might. During the 1990s, the wild vacant land once adjoining the Laurel Drive-In Theater, where I was stung by a scorpion as I lifted a rock to create with my friends a baseball field a short block from the Pacoima house I grew up in, became the Paxton Park extension upon which major improvements were soon built and newly named the Ritchie Valens Recreation Center by the City Of Los Angeles Recreation & Parks Department. The famed Guitar Center RockWalk not only has inducted Ritchie for his significant contributions, but also made a donation to this facility where guitar lessons are also available to local youths. The pool where I learned to swim with my brothers and sisters now also bares Ritchie's name. And that's just part of the story of how much esteem this fallen teenage hero is still held in.

You know, we all have those days we'll never forget. One such morning in my life, I had arrived at the corner of Van Nuys and Laurel Canyon Boulevards, having completed my paper route and heading off to my parochial grammer school education at Mary Immaculate School. Hanging down from those elevated motorcycle handlebars on my English racer, where my L.A. Examiner newspaper bags, with the customary extra copies all folded and rubber-banded inside. Suddenly I was surrounded by teenagers wanting to buy all my copies. Many of them had tears flowing from their eyes. Speechless at first, I finally asked "What's going on?"

A girl with wet eyes haunted me as she looked directly into me and asked, "Isn't there anything about Ritchie in the newspaper?"

"I don't know," I replied, clearly confused. "What's happening?"

She burst into fresh tears and softly cried out in a quivering voice, "We just heard on the radio he's dead."