Ritchie Valens Tribute to Fund Scholarship

Ritchie Valens would have turned 48 Saturday--certainly young enough, in this age of geriatric rock stars, to strum his guitar around the world.

Instead, Saturday is a day to remember what was, think about what might have been and, through the Valens music and legend, help build for what could be.

Valens, only 17, died in the legendary 1959 plane crash that also killed Buddy Holly and the Big Bopper. Saturday, “Ritchie Valens Night,” an evening of music and memories designed to raise money for a scholarship in the former star’s name, will be held at the Country Club in Reseda.

The idea was conceived by Valens’ mother, Connie, who died in October, 1987. It was her dream to establish a music center for underprivileged youth in San Fernando and Pacoima. Valens’ friends and family are certain that had he lived, he would have poured his money and time into making his community a better place to live.

“Ritchie Valens was the ultimate example that, yes, one person can make a difference,” said Salvador Guitarez, a musician who is organizing Saturday’s benefit. “He gave such inspiration to the Mexican-American community, inspiration that is needed again today.”

Valens made his legend here, in the schools and in the streets. Even today, youngsters ask to hear his songs in music class. He is still a symbol that stardom can come to anybody growing up in economic hardship and discrimination.

“But many kids today join gangs and take drugs,” Guitarez said. “And we want to encourage them to get into bands instead of gangs.”

The Ritchie Valens Committee has raised more than $6,000 in the past year. Much of that money is earmarked for a Ritchie Valens star on the Hollywood “Walk of Fame.” The Hollywood Chamber of Commerce is scheduled to decide on the matter in June. The rest will go toward scholarships, but details have not been worked out.

Valens died 30 years ago. What took so long to establish a scholarship in his name?

“I don’t know,” Guitarez said. “But we wanted to move now, as the movie is still in the public consciousness. If we don’t do anything now, it will never happen.” Guitarez was, of course, referring to “La Bamba,” the 1987 Valens story that sold several million sound tracks.

Guitarez spoke in the Pacoima home of Ernestine Reyes, Valens’ aunt. The walls are filled with photos from the movie and framed newspaper articles yellowed by time. But the memories, recalled by cousins and former band colleagues, remain vivid.

Reyes remembers the large family gatherings each week--a tradition in Mexican-American culture--when little Ritchie, just 6 or 7, would entertain everyone with his guitar playing.

Years later, when songs such as “Donna,” “La Bamba” and “Come On, Let’s Go” skyrocketed to the top of the charts, adulation followed Valens everywhere.

“Ritchie didn’t smoke that much, unless he was nervous,” Reyes, 51, said. “I remember when he dropped his cigarette butt, all the girls would dive to pick it up.”

Gil Rocha, who brought Valens into his band, the Silhouettes, in 1957, recalls the teen-ager’s musical genius.

“This little kid was playing guitar in a way that made us feel like amateurs,” Rocha, 53, said. “He was so far advanced, we were all wondering how he did it. He was playing the rhythm and blues music we all wanted to hear, and knew it so well that he was already starting to move on to jazz playing.”

Rocha said Valens’ most significant contribution was “opening the doors” for Mexican-American musicians. Before his success, Rocha said, Mexican-American performers were limited to clubs in East Los Angeles and weren’t accepted in the mainstream record industry. But soon afterward, Valens’ rise inspired hundreds of ambitious teen-agers who had the talent but not the drive, Rocha said.

“Just like today,” Rocha said. “There are a lot of kids out there who have the talent, but aren’t using it. There are a lot of good kids in this neighborhood. There always have been. Ritchie was one of them.”

Valens, according to Reyes, was mature well beyond his years and determined to be a superstar. As suggested by his manager, Bob Keene, Ritchie changed his name from Valenzuela to Valens. Rocha said the band understood that this was necessary to make it in the white-dominated music world of the 1950s.

“He used to say that he would be the next Elvis Presley,” Reyes said, “and when that happened, we were all going to move to Beverly Hills.”

The prospect was exciting. The Silhouettes couldn’t wait. Though Valens left the band to pursue a solo career, he apparently promised to record some of their songs, carrying them up the musical ladder with him. With his death, the band’s dreams died, too. Today, Rocha, who played the vibes, is a warehouse supervisor. Fred Aguilera, 46, who played trumpet, is a respiratory therapist.

They can’t help but wonder: what if? The band broke up less than a year after Valens’ death.

“If he hadn’t died, Gil, myself and the Silhouettes would have done very well,” Aguilera said. “He would have helped us make it all the way to the top. We wouldn’t be here right now, I’ll tell you that.”

The youth of today, according to Reyes and other family members, still treasure the Valens legend. Notes are often left at his grave in San Fernando. Youngsters watch “La Bamba” over and over. Some of these are the youngsters whose mothers used to pick up the cigarette butts dropped by their hero.

“In music class, everyone always asks to hear ‘La Bamba,’ ” said Rocha’s daughter, Stephanie, 12. “Everyone knows him.”

Saturday’s performers include Dick Dale, a surf guitarist who played with Valens; Bobby Cochran, whose uncle, Eddie, was one of Valens’ best friends, and Ernie Valens, 19, Valens’ cousin, who is preparing to record a debut album for Fox Records. Ernie Valens will do a set of his cousin’s songs.

The show will run from 8 p.m. to midnight. Tickets are $15 and can be purchased at the Country Club box office.