Dion DiMucci: Who Were ‘Runaround Sue’ And ‘The Wanderer’?

On February 3, 1959, the arc of popular music was irrevocably altered when three of rock’s biggest early stars died in a plane crash outside Clear Lake, Iowa. Dion DiMucci’s life changed forever that day as well.

DiMucci’s group, The Belmonts, was named after the Bronx, New York, neighborhood where the four bandmates had grown up and honed their doo-wop harmonies. They broke through in 1958 with three chart hits: “I Wonder Why,” “No One Knows,” and “Don’t Pity Me.” Things moved quickly from there with a national TV appearance on Dick Clark’s American Bandstand and a tour with the Coasters, Bobby Darin and Buddy Holly.

The New Year began with another tour featuring Buddy Holly, plus Ritchie Valens and The Big Bopper (J.P. Richardson). The Winter Dance Party kicked off in Milwaukee on January 23, 1959 and zigzagged crazily across the frozen Upper Midwest. It was a logistical nightmare, but a musical feast for the kids of Wisconsin, Iowa and Minnesota. On January 31, the ninth of 24 planned shows, a young Bob Dylan was in the front row of the Duluth Armory to see his idol, Buddy Holly.

Two nights later they played the Surf Ballroom in Clear Lake. Shortly after midnight, Holly, Valens and The Big Bopper – along with pilot Roger Peterson – died when their small chartered plane crashed into a cornfield.

DiMucci was only 19 years old on “the day the music died.” In this remarkable interview, he opens up about the lifelong impact of those searing events, as well as is early days, later career and place in rock history.

When he initially answered my phone call with the word, “Yo,” I wasn’t sure what to expect. I thought of his tough-guy roots in Bronx gangs singing doo-wop on stoops. What would he be like? A macho guy like in his hit song, "The Wanderer?”

Truth is, Dion is pretty sensitive, a funny cat with stories. I mean real stories. Now 84, his memory is sharp and vivid. For an hour and a half, we discussed his seasoned career. Who, in real life is, “Runaround Sue?” What does Dion think about the British Invasion of the early 60s? What does he remember about the great crooner and heart-throb Del Shannon?

This interview has been published in various pieces over the years, but here, with slight edits, is the whole thing in its entirety.

Jim Clash: Do you think you have played, "Runaround Sue," more often than you’ve done media interviews [laughs]?

Dion DiMucci: Definitely [laughs]. I never got into this business to do interviews. It was always about the music.

Clash: Let's start with a life-changing event. In 1959, a plane with The Big Bopper, Ritchie Valens and Buddy Holly crashed while you all were on the Winter Dance Party tour, killing the three stars and the pilot. You were 19 at the time. What are your recollections now?

DiMucci: It did change my life. I got to know Buddy Holly pretty well. I introduced him to Manny’s Music on 48th Street in New York and a clothing shop on Third Avenue [laughs]. We all went out on that tour in January 1959. We rehearsed in Chicago first, then drove up to Milwaukee in a bus. It was not the typical bus you see today, like a Golden Eagle. It was a yellow church school bus out of a parking lot. That was it.

It was a lot of fun in the back of that bus with Ritchie, Buddy and The Big Bopper sharing each other's songs. After two weeks into the tour, the bus had broken down so many times. That night in Clear Lake, Iowa, Buddy just got fed up. He was a little older, 22, I think. He was very decisive.

He impressed me because I was 19 and insecure. He decided to charter a plane so we could get to the next stop, get a shower, get some sleep, get our wash done. It was like 400 miles in blinding snow to Fargo, North Dakota. So he chartered a Beechcraft Bonanza. It was an all-night drive to Fargo, just two hours by plane.

Buddy took us into this room and he said, “Listen, there’s only four seats on the plane." The pilot would take one, and there was room for only three others. One of the headliners couldn't go. The four of them left for the airport around midnight. I got on the bus with some of the back-up musicians. The plane took off and, within five minutes, crashed in a storm. The next morning, when we showed up and pulled into the hotel in Fargo, I remember it as a sunny day.

We got off the bus and the locals were in the lobby watching this black-and-white TV. It was coming across the screen that these three rock ‘n’ roll artists had died in a plane crash. Jim, it was hard to get my mind around it. I didn’t even know how to grab onto that. It baffled me. I have a good memory before that happened but, after, I don’t remember too much.

We stayed out on tour for two more weeks. I was singing some of Ritchie’s songs, some of Buddy’s. We got telegrams from Bobby Darin, Phil Spector, Dick Clark, Paul Anka. Back then, it was telegrams, not texts. When I finally came back to the Bronx, there was no grief counseling. My parents didn’t talk about it. Nothing.

Years later, I talked to my father. He said that when he heard the news, it felt like getting open-heart surgery without the anesthesia. My sister, Joanie, was making a peanut butter sandwich and just collapsed on her knees. She didn’t even know who it was in the plane crash. The news was just that three rock ‘n’ rollers had died.

In the lobby of the hotel, we had gotten on the line, making all of these calls. But nobody thought of calling Ritchie’s mother. Or Buddy’s family. We didn’t have their numbers. A lot of people didn’t even get through to their own homes because the lines were so busy. So a lot of these families just heard it on the radio, like my family. Radio was big in those days.

Those three guys affected my life on a lot of levels. Buddy told me once, "Dion, I don’t know how to succeed, but I know how to fail. Try to please everybody, and you’ll go nowhere." If he didn’t tell me that, I probably never would have done, "Runaround Sue," "The Wanderer," "Abraham, Martin and John." I miss those guys. Thank God that in my faith, relationships never end. I always ask for their prayers, because I feel they are closer to the beatific vision and are helping me out. I have three angels up there.

Clash: You once called, “Runaway,” by Del Shannon, an opera. You toured with Del. What are your memories, and did you ever think he would take his own life?

DiMucci: Never, never. In fact I was talking to Bobby Vee, who was with him maybe a week and a half before he did that. Bobby told me, "Dion, we were driving together through the Midwest on this tour and Del looked great, but something was off. When we got to the hotel, I called his room. I knew he was in a program – a 12-step where he knew the principle of talking to another person. I said, 'Del, I’m your friend, you want to talk?' He said, 'No, everything is okay, I’m good. Don’t worry about it.'"

But with Del Shannon, and I've got to tell you this – there’s nobody probably on the face of the earth that I identified more with musically. We used to sit and sing George Jones and Hank Williams tunes. He used to come to my house and we would just sit there sharing country music. He was a great artist; underrated for sure. The guy was just a natural. It thrilled me to hear him sing anything up-close with a guitar. It was just mesmerizing. He was special.

But sometimes people who are brilliant like that are quirky. When we went to England, he complained about everything. "They don’t have malteds here. Why don’t they have the World Series on radio? Why’s the beer warm? What am I going to do, eat crumpets all day?" He was funny, you know what I mean? In a good way. I’d never seen him angry in a bad way.

Clash: Let's go back to your big hit, "The Wanderer." There are two lines in that tune that stick out to me as special: "With my two fists of iron/But I'm going nowhere." Explain.

DiMucci: Yeah, it's those two lines that the song pivots on. You know who got that, really, was Bruce Springsteen. I guess he listens. We were at rehearsal for a Madison Square Garden charity event that Paul Simon was putting on for homeless kids to help them medically.

Springsteen was listening to me do, "The Wanderer," and came over afterwards and said, "You know, if people ever grabbed on to that couplet [“With my two fists of iron/But I'm going nowhere”], they'd find out what a man should be." It's the idea of this macho guy getting some insight into himself for a split second, but then it quickly goes away. In those days, we had to do everything upbeat, but this song is darker if you really listen.

The Del Satins sang backup. I found those guys on the West Side near 92nd Street [New York]. But you're right, that song goes over people's heads. It was actually written about a guy named Jackie Burns in my neighborhood. He had tattoos all over. He would go out with a girl named Mary or Flo, and then he'd get a tattoo. What was it? He had, "Flo on his left, and then Mary on his right."

But when he broke up with the girl, he'd get the tattoo covered up with an alligator or something [laughs]. He'd walk down the street with that tank top on. He was in the Navy, and before his time with all of those tattoos. Ernie Maresca, by the way, was a big part of writing that song. We talked about it later, because I had changed that line. He wanted it as, "With my two fists of iron/And my bottle of beer." I said no, we need to make it, "With my two fists of iron/But I'm going nowhere."

Clash: In doing my research, I've seen different accounts of who, “Runaround Sue” is in real life. Your wife is named Sue. On Oprah, she once said it was about her. Who is it really written about?

DiMucci: It’s all according to what day you get me on [laughs]. I like to have fun with people. Actually, it’s kind of a mixture. My wife would love to think it’s about her, because she thinks it would be great for her image. It really is about a girl who was kind of loose in the neighborhood. The word Sue just fit for the song - you couldn’t use Roberta, or Alice, or whatever.

I’m not going to mention who it’s really about, but between you and I, the girl called in to an interview show I was on about 20 years ago. She had married a rabbi, had six kids, and sounded wonderful! And I thought how good it was to hear from her, you know. Chalk it up to being young and foolish – a lot of young people are – but she turned out wonderful. But thank you for the song [laughs].

Clash: The British Invasion of the mid-60s. Did you see it coming?

DiMucci: I know they call it the British Invasion, but musically I call it the British Infusion. I was listening to [American artists] Jimmy Reed, Muddy Waters, John Lee Hooker. When the Rolling Stones started throwing some of those blues things back, man, I knew where they were coming from. They were steeped in what I grew up on. The only difference was I couldn't go to the Brooklyn Fox and sing like Mick Jagger: “Hey babe, I want you to know, what I'm doing honey” [laughs]. They would have killed me. Are you kidding? I would've felt like an idiot.

I don't know. It was the times and Jagger was British. He could do it and it sounded natural. I was playing with Chuck Berry, who sounded like an English teacher. Did you ever listen to his records? He pronounces every word. So I couldn't sing like Mick Jagger, not that I wanted to.

I read Keith Richards' book. I didn't like it, but there are three chapters - five, six and seven, I think - that are freaking over-the-top epic. He talks about the music. I've never seen someone explain it like that. Thelonious Monk once said, "Talking about music is like dancing about architecture." How do you talk about music? But Richards did. And he did it well. You could see why they were so good. They listened to a Jimmy Reed record for one week straight!

Clash: Well, Cream, the first supergroup from Great Britain, covered a number of American blues artists.

DiMucci: Do you know who Robert Johnson is [“Crossroads”]? I heard Robert Johnson way before I heard about Eric Clapton.

Below, Dion plays word association with a number of people and topics:

Lip Syncing: It’s not for me. But in the day, you’d go on The Dick Clark Show and that’s the way it was done.

The Beatles Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band album cover DiMucci’s on: I feel honored. Bob Dylan and myself are the only American artists on it. I usually joke: "If you want to sell a lot of albums, put my face on it [laughs].”

Ed Sullivan Show: I wish I had had more courage. I would have sung, “Runaround Sue” and, “The Wanderer” on that show, and didn’t. I listened to people who wanted to get me into the Copacabana and did some songs that were far out of my wheelhouse. I sang, “Lover Come Back to Me” with a big band and, “Ain't Necessarily So.” I didn’t look like Little Richard or Bo Diddley, and you needed that to get into the Copa. They wanted me to go the Bobby Darin route. I was insecure, what can I say?

Robert Kennedy: He was reaching for higher ground, trying to shine a light, change things for the better.

Paul Simon: While Paul Simon is revered, I don’t think people get how deep he is. I love the guy. He comes from that early street-harmony, first-generation type of rock ‘n’ rollers. He gets it. That’s a part of his foundation. So we get along in those sounds. I love his poetry and his albums Rhythm of the Saints, Graceland. I think Paul introduced America to international, universal music and rhythms before anybody else. As for Simon & Garfunkel, I love their sound. "Sound Of Silence" is a great song and can be done a lot of different ways.

The party where DiMucci wrote, "Runaround Sue": When I was at that party, we were banging on cardboard boxes and bottles. I gave the guys a riff to sing, which would be the background to, "Runaround Sue": hape hape, bum da haiti haiti, hape hape, bum da haiti haiti. We sang it for 45 minutes and I thought, ‘Man this is freaking great, throwing out words and melodies.’

I put this thing together in the following couple of weeks with Ernie Maresca, and went down to the studio to record it. Then I brought the record to the neighborhood to play for all of the party people and they said, "Ah, you screwed the whole thing up [laughs].” They didn’t like the formal version. They thought it was better sounding the night we did it at the party. You can get a No. 1 record, and they still thought the party was better.

The Applebee's TV commercial which featured, "Runaround Sue": I'm going to the early-bird, and they're paying [laughs].

His 1989 Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame induction: It felt great. I know it’s kind of anti-rock ‘n’ roll, but to hear Lou Reed – what he said when he inducted me – to be there and honored by all of those guys who have kept me young over the years: Paul Simon, Bruce Springsteen, John Fogerty, The Rolling Stones, Stevie Wonder. It just felt good to be a link in that chain. It’s a good feeling to be acknowledged by your peers.

Clash: If you had to give advice now to your former self, what would it be?

DiMucci: Be authentic, true to yourself, genuine. Question what you really love along the way. There are so many voices out there and you can lose yourself. When that happens, it doesn’t end up good. When I didn’t do, “Runaround Sue” on The Ed Sullivan Show, for example, I didn’t listen to my inner voice. I should have.

You constantly have to take inventory, not get on someone else’s agenda. You want to write something that’s poignant and moves people. You know, take people on a trip in a good way, not what somebody else is trying to tell you. When it’s secondhand, it doesn’t work.

Clash: How did you get clean, off of booze and drugs?

DiMucci: It was April 1, 1968, over 50 years ago. I went to a 12-step, spiritual-based meeting with eight guys. A guy told me to say a prayer, and I had never thought of doing that formally. I went home, got on my knees, and said, “God, I need your help.” When I got off of my knees, I was changed. I was touched from above. It took away the obsession to drink and take drugs.

Clash: I hear you’re involved in a play about your life, with your music.

DiMucci: This playwright, Charles Messina, came to me some years ago and asked, "How does an Italian Catholic kid from the Bronx get inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame?" I started telling him maybe what I’ve been telling you. I said, "Charles, if you want to write a play, it can’t just be about the obstacles somebody goes through and then, voila, they make it to Carnegie Hall or the Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame. You need to go beyond that. I want to go into a higher reality. And we did. It’s about history, action, romance, betrayal and comedy, with great music. It’s a street story, a rock ‘n’ roll story [The Wanderer, Paper Mill Playhouse, Millburn, New Jersey, 2022].

Every song pushes the story forward. You should see the kid in it, Michael Wartella, off the charts. When [music executive] Tommy Mottola came, he said, "Keep that kid." Usually Tommy leaves in the middle of stuff, but he stayed for the whole thing. He loved it.

Clash: What would you like your epitaph to be?

DiMucci: “He was real. He was a man of prayer. He loved his family.”

Clash: What were you like as a child?

DiMucci: I was a weird kid. I loved music and I loved reading about God. Some people want to get involved in football, ice skating, riding bikes, running. I wanted to know who God was. I wanted to know why I was here. Even more so after the [Buddy Holly] plane crash. It was like: Who am I? Where am I going? What's this all about?

Clash: When did you know that you had a good voice?

DiMucci: That's a funny question, because I believe that I'm a great rhythm singer. But as to having a good voice, I would say Pavarotti, or somebody who can hold a note fits that bill. Early on, I tried to sing, but sustaining a note was something I wasn't comfortable with. So I tried to get off of the note as soon as I could.

I developed this intuitive style – not conscious at all. I was doing it out of reflex. The point here is that I enjoyed singing. I enjoyed the rhythm of it. I grew up listening to Louis Prima, who was also rhythmic. Prima most likely would have been inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame if he didn't sing Italian songs.

Clash: When did you realize that you could sing for a living?

DiMucci: My mother thought I was good, so she found a blind woman who helped the Armed Forces. This woman and her friend took me to Fort Dix [New Jersey], and I sang there. I sang some Hank Williams songs. For me, it became this international communications tool. I also had that feeling on the stoops of the Bronx when I sang for the guys. I knew I didn't threaten them singing about feelings.

Anyway, when I went out to Fort Dix, and after finishing maybe 10 songs, they carried me around on their shoulders. They were like hailing me. I just felt so good that I wanted to do more of it. It's kind of like a narcotic. I got thrown on the road at a very early age, like 14 or 15. Maybe for Elvis Presley it wasn't a stretch, but for a kid from the Bronx it was. By the age of 15, I knew over 40 Hank Williams songs.

Clash: Would you say you are a wealthy person?

DiMucci: I wouldn't say that I'm rich. Rich to me is like if it would take 10 lifetimes to spend what you have. You know, you write for Forbes [laughs]. I'm talking about Warren Buffett or Bill Gates. But, in terms of abundant spirit and mind, I would say yes. I feel blessed. I have great people in my life. I ended up in a good place. I would say I am wealthy because of my wife, Sue, and my manager.

There are people in this business who've had real jerks for managers. You hear horror stories all the time. It's human nature. People will take advantage if you're not watching. Everything got stolen from some people, millions!

Clash: Which songs did you like doing most in concert?

DiMucci: Sometimes I liked the newest one because it felt fresh, felt good. Sometimes I really got into, "Abraham, Martin and John." I loved doing, "The Wanderer" and, "Ruby Baby." I get a kick out of doing, "I Wonder Why." When I do, “Runaround Sue," it’s like new. The whole audience goes nuts. I'm just in the moment, singing it. It’s not like, "Hey, I hope you remember this." Who gives a damn? I just do it because it's a great song.

Clash: You came from nothing and look where you are now. You are the epitome of the American Dream, no?

DiMucci: I feel like that. I was talking to Ralph Lauren. We got together, two kids from the Bronx. We’re basically the same age, just a few months apart. He said, “We did okay for Bronx kids, right?" I said, "Yeah — I’m not comparing, mind you – but, yeah.” But I do feel exactly like what you just said. That’s why I love this country.

I don’t believe in being a victim. I think with information and motivation, you can do anything. If you make excuses, you’re going to believe in a lie. And I don’t believe in that lie that you can’t make it, that somebody is trying to hold you back. I heard a politician say that on TV once. Give me a break. Let it roll, man, let it go.

Clash: You are a good-looking guy. How do you resist the temptation from women?

DiMucci: I have enough to deal with with my own desires. I think you really have to get that in control. Try to reach for higher ground. You can ruin your chances at being happy, fulfilled, having a family. You can really screw up your life.

You've seen it. You see the headlines. It's not easy, but you have to master that urge. Otherwise, you're going to end up unhappy, in the hospital, get this, get that. In the long run, it doesn't satisfy. I learned that early on. Hey, I'm not perfect. I feel when I meet God, I'm going to say, "Why did you make the sex drive so potent [laughs]? Why did you do that?" It's hard. That's something you take a day at a time and ask for help with.

Clash: You've been married since 1963?

DiMucci: Yeah, I love this woman. Today is Valentine's Day. That's what I put on a card on the table this morning: "To the love of my life, and you'll always be, eternally."

Clash: What does fame do to somebody?

DiMucci: I'll give you a real true answer. It's a little long. I'm going to say it in a Bronx way, because I'm not an academic or intellectual. I started reading St. Augustine and Thomas Aquinas. If you don't have God in your life, you have to fill up on something. And you usually reach for the four great substitutes, the classical addictions: wealth, pleasure, power and honor.

So, you try to fill yourself up. You can see that there are some people who have all of that, and I'm one of them. I acquired the wealth. I have the girl of my dreams. I have position. I had a contract with Columbia Records for half-a-million dollars, guaranteed, in 1961. That's a lot of money for a kid from the Bronx. And honor. I'm from the streets. It's all about reputation and respect.

But those things, if you acquire them, still make you feel an emptiness. You want more, because it's not God. Those things, fame included, don't satisfy the soul, the center of your being. Not that they're not good – we're not Puritans here – but, once you have God in your life, he shapes your desire for those things. With God, you have this healthy detachment from thinking those things will make you happy. Does that make sense?

Clash: Yes, it does. Great stuff, Dion. Thank you for your time today.

DiMucci: Take the curse words out, though. That’s the Bronx way of punctuating things [laughs].