Music
On This Day: Remembering Otis Redding on the Anniversary of His Death
Fifty-five years on, the singer’s legacy endures
Walking down Madison, Wisconsin’s State street, flyers for upcoming shows are everywhere.
They paper over ones that have recently happened, and those too paper over older ones. It’s part of the fabric of downtown — almost a civic wallpaper. Countless bands have advertised this way, and up until not too long ago, this was how most fans found out about upcoming concerts. Otis Redding’s December 1967 show at The Factory was no exception, and posters for his concert were likely papered up and down the street too.
Only this show never happened.
It’s been 55 years now.
Five and half decades since Otis Redding, along with seven others, boarded a plane in Cleveland bound for Madison, Wisconsin. A common pairing, and one that is straightforward from an aviating perspective.
Most of us know how this particular story ends. Redding, with his backing band, the Bar-Kays, were on their way to a gig in Madison. Another stop in the Midwest.
A quick hop between rust belt cities. Again pretty straightforward.
The approach into madison from the air takes you right over lake Monona. The city is built on an isthmus, with Lake Mendota on its other side.
On a clear day, the view is spectacular, offering stunning views of the lakes and city. That’s your cue that your flight only has a few miles left- the end of Runway 36 is just minutes from the shore.
But we know how this flight ends. Not with a smooth landing. Not with a short taxi to the terminal. Instead, it ends violently, just short of the airfield in the icy waters of lake Monona. It ends the life of Redding at just 26. The pilot (also 26), his manager, and four Bar-Kays also perish. Only Ben Cauley made it out that night.
The cause is never determined & the lake never gives back the left engine or propeller.
In an incredibly cruel twist, Redding had recorded Sittin’ on the Dock of the Bay” just three days prior. Released the following month, the song that would go on to be a huge hit. The song that should’ve vaulted him from “rising talent” to bona fide stardom. It’s a sad case of what might’ve been.
Life goes on, of course. In the summer, the lake is packed with boaters. There are waterskiing shows on Fridays. The bay is a great place to be. In the winter, it becomes the domain of ice fishermen. The birds are there year-round.
And so are the airplanes. The approach in 2022 is essentially unchanged from 1967. Only the aircraft types have changed. I can see that approach from my kitchen table. There is a plane on descent as I type this. I wasn’t here that night, but Redding’s plane likely flew the same pattern as this one.
1000s of commuters pass the lake daily. I’m one of them. Every once in a while, I wonder if anyone remembers what happened in those waters so many years ago. I’ve yet to hear “Sittin’ on the Dock of the Bay” while driving by, but I have listened to “Merry Christmas Baby” more than once.
A lot can change in five and a half decades. The Factory is long gone. The place that never gets mentioned without breathlessly noting “Jimi Hendrix also played there” was for years a bookstore. There was an office for Kaplan testing above it. How’s that for rock n roll? The bookstore recently moved — over to a different side of the lake.
Today a small memorial for Redding & co. exists at The Monona Terrace, a lovely building whose seemingly only real purpose these days is to be the default option for taking homecoming/prom/wedding pics.
It offers a spectacular view of the lake. It’s a vista worthy of life events. And remembrance. The top deck provides scenes that are beautiful and timeless; much like Redding’s music.
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