'The day the music died'? Hardly

(CNN) -- The facts are these: Just after 1 a.m. February 3, 1959, a three-passenger Beechcraft Bonanza went down about five miles northwest of Mason City Municipal Airport, near Clear Lake, Iowa. The plane crash took the lives of the pilot, Roger Peterson, and three musicians: Charles Hardin Holley, better known as Buddy Holly, 22; Ritchie Valens (originally Valenzuela), 17; and J.P. "The Big Bopper" Richardson, 28.

It has become famous, in Don McLean's "American Pie" formulation, as "the day the music died."

But, indicating the lack of esteem for rock 'n' roll at the time, it wasn't a major national news story. The New York Times put a plane crash on its February 4 front page, but it was an American Airlines flight that had crashed near LaGuardia Airport. The Clear Lake tragedy was on page 66. The same was true for other major newspapers.

"[Holly] really wasn't known to the older generation," said "Austin City Limits" executive producer and Holly aficionado Terry Lickona. "Even in his hometown [of Lubbock, Texas], they were embarrassed by him."

The trio's deaths coincided with a period of dark events in rock 'n' roll history, including Elvis Presley's induction into the Army, Jerry Lee Lewis' blacklisting, the record industry payola scandals and Chuck Berry's Mann Act conviction, not to mention the rise of manufactured teen idols such as Frankie Avalon and Fabian.

Partly thanks to McLean's lingering phrase, the ensuing years have been painted as a rock Dark Ages, rescued only by the Beatles' arrival in 1964 at the vanguard of the British Invasion.

Marsh says that canard, which he has refuted in "The Book of Rock Lists" and "The Heart of Rock and Soul," should be laid to rest once and for all.

"I think what happened was that people weren't paying attention themselves and assumed no one else was, either," he said. "I think it's also a way that glorifies the lack of stars [compared to rock's early days]. That was missing. ... I don't think Roy Orbison had quite the same stature."

Which doesn't mean that the music of Orbison, Phil Spector, early Motown or Gary U.S. Bonds deserves to be overlooked, he added: "The quality of the music is undeniable."

What would have happened to the trio in that era is, of course, impossible to know. Valens, celebrated in the movie "La Bamba," was just starting his career and may have produced more hits; Richardson, a former DJ and radio program director who shot some rudimentary music videos, had shrewd entrepreneurial instincts.

And then there's Holly, with his songwriting talent, his arranging abilities (he did the strings on "It Doesn't Matter Anymore," his last single) and sheer knowledge of music.

Maria Elena Holly, who watches over his legacy, says Buddy had big plans: He wanted to do albums with Ray Charles and Mahalia Jackson; he wanted to try film music; he wanted to do music publishing.