Just the other day, I was going through one of the boxes which has been stored for many years and came upon a cassette tape of music by the late Hank Riddle, the musical poet laureate of Hainesville, Texas.

It seems like only yesterday I was in the office of the old Democrat building on the square trying to get some work done and all of a sudden, I look up, and there was King Harold the wonder dog coming in through the back door. Not far behind was his master, the loud and at times rude, Henry “my friends call me Hank” Riddle. It was a wintry day and there came Hank, barging in on a busy day wondering out loud in very colorful language when I was going to quit working and head out on another adventure with him. That’s the way he was, just drop everything and go for a ride in the backwoods of East Texas. That particular time, we traveled blacktop and gravel roads on a lengthy journey to Texarkana because Hank wanted to eat at a backwoods store that had the best burritos “a man could put a lip on.”

My story with Hank Riddle began in 1985 when I was working at KMOO in Mineola. I did a show on Wednesday nights called Texas Homegrown where we featured local and regional Texas artists. My partner in this musical crime was J. Dudley Martin who went out and sold advertisements so we could pay for the two-hour time block.

One of those nights, I cued up a song called “I’d Have to be Crazy” sung by Willie Nelson with a little help from the songwriter Steven Fromholz who passed away in 2014. About halfway through the song, the phone started ringing. I answered and on the other end I heard this, “My name is Henry Riddle and I’m a songwriter from Hainesville, Texas. My friends call me Hank and you can call me Hank because you are now my friend for playing one of the best songs ever written.” And with that, a two-decade friendship began.

Hank was a prolific writer and had no trouble bringing out his guitar and playing his tunes anywhere, anytime. He is the only person I ever knew who was barred from the Sonic in Quitman. Hank was going from car to car playing his latest creations. Hank was a big guy, I’d say 6’3” and right at 235 to 240 pounds and was a quite an imposing figure. He feared no man, animal or raging storm. He had an ultimate respect for women bred into his soul by his loving mother, Louise. His daddy, Doyle, was also a huge influence on Hank.

In fact, the one song he wrote which became a number one hit, “Until I Met You” is about his folks and falling in love in Hainesville. Country singer Judy Rodman recorded the song and we watched it week by week climb the Billboard charts until it finally was country music’s number one song. It would be her only hit single and Hank’s only song to reach number one. Hank had already tried the Nashville scene and did not like what he heard in what he thought was “pop” country. He was dedicated to writing songs about real people and real feelings. He thought every song should tell a story.

He painted pictures in the mind with words. He was a true East Texas “Renaissance Man,” a man whose words will live on, especially if you ever met him. I could write a book, and may someday, about this outlaw, a man who loved his family and the land he called home, East Texas. He was a historian, a philosopher and song crafter, a wordsmith if you please. Hank influenced everyone he met. He could be abrasive and wear you out with the road trips and constant jabbering, but he was a fiercely loyal friend.

Later this afternoon, I believe I’ll ride out to Concord Cemetery and pay my respects to many family members who rest there, and to visit Hank where his tombstone has the words of one of his songs, “Gone Home.” I will meditate and remember the good times, just like it was yesterday.