The year 2016 isn’t even a fortnight old, and already so many losses, so many deaths. Musical legends Lemmy, Natalie, Pierre, and David; actors Pat Harrington and Angus Scrimm; sports legends like Monte Irvin, and many more have left these our shores for kinder places.
In Seattle, though, the loss that resonates is the passing of Dick Spady, 92-year-old founder of Dick’s burger joints. A Seattle institution, Dick’s was and continues to be an integral part of the Seattle fabric. From its start with the Wallingford location in 1954, Dick’s now has six locations, including the most recent one that opened in Edmonds in 2011.
Six restaurants doesn’t sound like an “empire” or anything, and that’s not what Dick’s was about. Rampant growth wasn’t part of Dick’s game plan; rather, Dick’s was about consistency, dependability, and community.
I wrote about the experience of dining at Dick’s a while ago. I hold those sentiments, still.
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It’s a rule I have: Never take food from a guy who talks to himself.
Seattle.
It’s the end of an era in Seattle. Our last great hometown pitchman, one of Seattle’s 
The spruce stood tall, a shadowed cone against the cold and dawning morn, a giant sentinel overlooking the crossroads along my route to work. The bus rocked like a ship in rough seas as it rattled into the intersection, fatigued metal complaining, whirring heater blasting air like a blow-dryer, but as we passed the ancient spruce, above the din, I heard music.
The restaurant business is difficult. Long hours, slim profit margins, physically demanding work…you really have to love it, because it requires dedication and toil. It’s also really easy to screw up.
Seattle is quiet.
Kurt R.A. Giambastiani 