Rock icon Bo Diddley dies at 79

Legendary guitarist Bo Diddley records on a 125-year-old wax cylinder phonograph on Capitol Hill in this 2003 file photo. In the background are, left to right, Rep. Joseph Crowley, D-N.Y., Rep. Mary Bono, D-Calif., and Rep. John Conyers, D-Mich. Diddley died Monday of heart failure at his home in Archer, Fla. He was 79.

Before Buddy Holly did it, before the Rolling Stones, Bruce Springsteen and a million unknown garage bands, there was Bo Diddley – and the beat that bears his name.

Diddley, a Rock and Roll Hall of Famer and one of the genre’s undisputed icons, died Monday at his 76-acre spread in rural Archer, Fla., about 10 miles out of Gainesville. He was 79.

The inventor of the Bo Diddley beat – chunk-a-chunk-chuck, a-chunk-chunk – had suffered a heart attack in August. Three months before that, he had a stroke while on tour in Iowa. It had affected his speech, and he had returned to Archer to recuperate.

Even so, musicians and music fans were shocked and saddened by the news.

“It’s a very depressing day,” said Diddley’s neighbor William McKeen, an author and journalism chair at the University of Florida, where he teaches an annual course on rock history. “I wasn’t ready for Bo Diddley to go.”

Before the beat, he was born Ellas Bates on Dec. 30, 1928, in McComb, Miss. He first listened to music in church and received his initial guitar as a Christmas gift from his sister when he was 11:

“My mama like to kill her,” Diddley told the Orlando Sentinel in 2002. “I came from a real religious family, and they didn’t allow no guitar playing in the house.”

In 1955, Diddley signed with Chess Records in Chicago. He traced the signature beat behind “Bo Diddley” and “I’m a Man” to his attempts to play the country sing “I’ve Got Spurs That Jingle Jangle Jingle.”

The arrival of Diddley and Muddy Waters at Chess began the evolution of blues into rock ‘n’ roll, although the early black musicians were overshadowed by the arrival of Elvis Presley.

“Elvis was fantastic, but he did not start it,” Diddley told the Sentinel. “He was 2 1/2 years behind me.”

Bitterness over unfair deals marked Diddley’s latter years, which he spent in Archer on property he cleared himself in the late 1980s. McKeen occasionally invited his famous neighbor to speak to his rock history classes, without success.

“I don’t think he needed the stroking of being in a university classroom to remind him of his place in rock ‘n’ roll history,” McKeen says. “If you could copyright a style, then he could’ve sued everybody for copyright infringement.”