Inside a downtown gallery maybe two decades ago – that’s where I first got McCuddined. I recall strolling through the vast array of art when one canvas stopped me cold. It contained the disturbing image of a semi-formed man on his back.
Grinning alligators. Flying saucers. Pigs and sheep. Wrought iron fencing. Dinosaurs. Elaborate metal conservatories …
First came LaBoata. Now meet … LaFloata. It’s the latest nautical wonder from the ever-churning mind of Spokane’s beloved boat-car czar, Tim Lorentz.
My adventure at the 4-buck-a-slice toast shop in San Francisco the other day drew some interesting insights. “Are franchises available?” asked John Bennehoff. “Or do you think Spokane has enough morons to support one?” Hard to say. Spokane can be a pretty tough sell when it comes to new ideas. The downtown grand prix, the festival of four cultures
Caught up on my reading the other day. Didn’t have much choice, really, since I was stopped at a red light near Dick’s, Spokane’s beloved burger emporium. The worn copper-colored van in front of me was plastered with an array of biblical imperatives, like… “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved.” “Jesus Said I am the way the trut
Welcome to “Jeopardy!” No, wait. This is Clarksville. Clarksville is populated by some of the interesting characters I run into from time to time.
The latest chapter in Spokane’s celebration of history’s most unlikely baseball player – Eddie Gaedel – took place last Wednesday at O’Doherty’s Irish Pub & Grill. The high point came when Tom Keefe, patron saint of the Eddie Gaedel Society, Chapter One, unveiled a beautiful painting he commissioned to depict the biggest moment in Little Eddie’s li
Some dubbed it “Treenado.” To others it was “Treemageddon.” Whatever it’s called, the crazy high-velocity winds that tore through the forests east of Colville late in day on June 29 amounted to 15 minutes or so of sheer duck and cover terror. Big trees – tamaracks and pines – toppled over, their massive dirt-crusted roots torn out of the ground.
When ace-percussionist Daniel Cox forgot to bring his drumsticks on the last day of Spokane Street Music Week, he didn’t panic. He instead set up his drum kit on the sidewalk near Starbucks and began to think. Hmm …
Kalise Wallace isn’t nuts. She’s the prop maker for “Z Nation,” that “other” apocalyptical TV zombie series.
We are closing on Spokane Street Music Week, the lucky 13th annual. This year’s event akes place during the noon hours of June 8-12 on sidewalks of three – count em three – area locations: Downtown Spokane, our original location. The Historic Garland District in North Spokane. Downtown Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. Those coming downtown...
It’s said that the first statue to employ “contrapposto” (the Italian term for counter-pose) was Kritios Boy. That pale sculpture dates back to 480 BC or several decades before shakes, fries and fast food drive-ins. A more modern example of this ancient sculptural technique can be seen hovering over Coeur d’Alene today in the beloved form of...
“Oops!” That was the name my old man and his pal, Radford, bestowed on the prehistoric plywood versions of Foosball that my father built in his basement shop back in the mid-1950s. This game was one of probably a dozen that he made and sold to friends for pretty much the cost of the lumber. I inherited it after my father’s death in 1981 and there w
So I’m sitting in a fancy hotel restaurant in Hollywood, staring at what’s supposed to be a plate of Eggs Benedict. I became an Eggs Benedict fan late in life thanks to a pal who thought I’d like it and I did. I like the way the soft runny yolk from the poached eggs blends with the English muffin halves, sliced ham and the tang of the creamy
My column last Sunday told the story of Joanne Martin, a Medical Lake woman who received a 10-cent check as her settlement from a huge class-action lawsuit against mega-wireless carrier Sprint. Sure. That predicament was entertaining. But some readers were more intrigued by my affection for the killer coffeecake that Joanne served me as we sat arou
The scenery outside Coeur d’Alene’s Wastewater Treatment Plant has the makings for a 1950s horror movie. “Attack of the Giant Round Worms,” you might call it. Or – “Killer Microbes from Space.” But no, it’s just a bizarre public art project that consists of seven sculptures of creatures you might find in your flush water or a city council meeting.
Spokane has its secrets. At the head of the line, as far as I’m concerned, are those cheery mentalists who work at Dick’s Hamburgers – the landmark fast food eatery at Third Avenue and Division Street.
Politicians, I’ve always believed, are the same jerks we hated in high school. Which is why I nearly swerved off the road at the sight of a large black-and-white sign that rose out of the weeds on the south side of I-90, near the Pines exit. “Vote for Jesus,” it read. Vote for WHO? I didn’t know the Lord was running for office. Government is the re
Once again, St. Paddy himself materialized inside O’Doherty’s Irish Pub & Grille on St. Patrick’s Day in downtown Spokane. He blessed the crowd. He posed for snapshots with the foxy Guinness Girls. Even better, St. Paddy bought me a corned beef sandwich. But then he did something about as un-Irish as it gets. He participated in a group sing-along o
There’s still time this weekend to check out the big Inland Northwest Motorcycle Show & Sale at the Spokane Fair and Expo Center. Come drool at 80,000 square feet of gleaming macho motorcyles. Plus one cherry red weeniemobile...
“If time travel is possible,” Stephen Hawking once observed, “where are the tourists from the future?” Duh. They’re all on the road to Colville. And I thought this Hawking guy was supposed to be smart. In all fairness, very few people know about Spokane’s wormhole to the future. Despite the zillions spent developing this leg of the mythical
Two chomps into my second double-cheese-pickle, a question came to mind: Do Huddy Burgers really deserve to be ranked among the planet’s best-damned hamburgers, or am I deluded? To me there’s no debate. These meat bombs are divine, proof that less really can be more. I was initiated into the wonders of Hudson’s Hamburgers on a scalding July day in
It seems to look a little sadder each time I drive by. Yet there’s something still intriguing about the ramshackle Spokane Street Motel at Second and Spokane. The classic, though now-broken sign, looks out of place in a commercial landscape of cheap neon and cookie-cutter plastic. As long as it exists, the landmark Spokane Street Motel will be a
Nobody knows who started Mexico’s legendary frog mummification industry. Or why so many tourists found these things appealing enough to plunk down a few pesos and bring them back home. But there is something odd and compelling about a frog band rocking out on their faux instruments...
Welcome to Clarksville, where all the women are strong, all the men are good looking, and all the children are above average. No, wait. That’s Lake Wobegon.
Thoughts and ruminations from S-R columnist Doug Clark
