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The Spokesman-Review Newspaper
Spokane, Washington  Est. May 19, 1883

Model citizens keep on making Spokane proud


Singer-songwriter Charlie Ryan penned the tune
Doug Clark The Spokesman-Review

We interrupt today’s coverage of City Hall bi-jinks to offer evidence that good news is still being made in this image-damaged wonderland we call Spokane.

Exhibit A: Charlie Ryan – the Spokane music legend who wrote and recorded the much-covered classic “Hot Rod Lincoln” – returned to his South Hill home Tuesday night after reaching another career milestone.

Ryan, who turns 90 next Dec. 19, was inducted over the weekend into the Minnesota Rock & Country Hall of Fame. The event was held at the Medina Entertainment Center in Medina, Minn., about 20 minutes west of the Twin Cities.

Ryan’s link to the North Star State comes from being born in the tiny west Minnesota town of Graceville. Spokane, however, was Ryan’s home when he penned his infectious hit.

“My Pappy said, ‘Son, you’re gonna drive me to drinkin’, if you don’t quit drivin’ that Hot Rod Lincoln.’ “

A commute to Spokane after a gig in Lewiston provided the inspirational spark. The year was 1950. Ryan says he chased a pal’s Caddy up the Lewiston Grade and made an observation that became part of the famous lyrics.

“Now the fellas thought I’d lost all sense; the telephone poles looked like a picket fence.”

Like that old Lincoln, Ryan’s rockabilly tune keeps burning rubber. Just the other day I heard the Commander Cody version being aired on some national TV show.

Cha-ching! More royalties for the Ryans.

Ryan is sharp and looks great. He still has that rich, old-school country voice. His final “Hot Rod Lincoln” performance during the induction festivities brought the large crowd to its feet, says Ruthie, Ryan’s wife of 67 years.

This year’s Minnesota inductees included 1960s rockers The Castaways and The Fendermen, who performed the original “Mule Skinner Blues.”

Minnesota can make whatever claim it wants. Charlie and Ruthie remain our civic treasures. “You’ll blow my head up here, and I won’t know how to behave,” says the ever-modest Ryan when I tell him.

Exhibit B: Ron Israel’s long ride is over. It ended the other day when he pedaled onto the campus of Gonzaga University, stepped off his 30-speed bike and gave his son, John, a tearful squeeze.

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” said the 57-year-old, who looked like a Tour de France winner in his yellow jersey.

Israel left San Diego on March 6 and logged 1,843 tough miles to complete his journey. He made the trip for two reasons: to watch John graduate from Gonzaga and to prove life doesn’t end with Parkinson’s disease.

Israel was diagnosed with the degenerative neurological disorder five years ago. He takes medication to combat the tremors, balance difficulties and slowness in movement. Even so, the ride at times took everything he had. Israel said he overcame monster hills, fierce winds and close calls with passing trucks.

He averaged about 37 miles a day, had two minor spills, went through four tires and had a total of 17 flats, none of which occurred in Washington.

Not many parents make this kind of effort to see their child get his diploma, noted John, who earned his degree in exercise science last Sunday. “It’s phenomenal.”

Exhibit C: The third annual Spokane Street Music Week is a month away, and I’m putting out an early call for musicians to help me raise money for the Second Harvest Food Bank.

Like last year, the performing takes place on downtown sidewalks during the noon hour for five straight workdays. I’m planning for the spectacle to unfold during the second full week in June.

Being able to make listenable music and turning in your collection bucket are the only requirements.

We raised $1,361.61 from donations last year. Let’s try to double it. Contact me, and I’ll begin making a list of players.

Oh, and it looks like I will have an opening for a tambourine player. True, the last guy who accompanied me did help the cause by signing the Street Music Week proclamation during a Spokane City Council meeting.

But the poor guy couldn’t keep a beat, and I’ve got this funny feeling he won’t be making any encores.