Pat “Taco” Ryan

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Everyone who knew him called him Taco. I didn’t know him. I called him Pat.

It was 1997 when I met him. He was a holdover tenant at the duplex I purchased. Pat hadn’t paid rent in over a year, and I needed a place to live.

The process of evicting Pat was problematic for the reason that Pat was never sober. I figured him for a drunk and a loser. One day in October I was able to catch him before he was pickled, and drove him to a storage business so he would have a place to stash the mountain of furniture and other stuff that was crammed into his side of the duplex.

It was a little awkward, but I tried to make small talk in the car on the way there. “So what do you do?” I asked, and then thought that was a stupid question. What he did was drink–every day, long and hard. “I mean, what did you do?”

“I’m a musician,” he said tersely.

“Oh, yeah? What instrument do you play?”

“Mostly saxophone,” he said more tersely than before in a way that conveyed that the conversation was over.

I paid for the storage unit, and he signed for it. The plan was that I would be at the duplex the following day with a UHaul truck to help him move his belongings.

That next morning, I knocked on the front door, but no one answered. I unlocked the door and let myself in. Pat was on the couch, passed out or sleeping it off, I couldn’t tell. Nothing was packed, or gathered to make the move easier.

My friend, who had come to help, and I began the long process of moving out all of Pat’s stuff, while Pat laid on the couch snoring. Pat did eventually wake up, grumbled something and left on foot.

My friend and I took the first load to the storage place. By late afternoon we had finally emptied the house. “You know what?” I asked my friend. “Pat told me he was a musician–a saxophonist. Did you ever see a saxophone in there?” My friend said he hadn’t.

When we returned, Pat was lying in the middle of the floor. I nudged him with my shoe and told him that he had to leave. He stood uneasily. He walked up to me and gave me a shove, and continued to advance though mightily off balanced. It wouldn’t be a fair match, and I told him so. I told him that we wouldn’t fight. He grimaced and staggered out of the duplex, down the street and out of view as my friend, old Mrs. Beaty, who resided in the other side of the duplex, and I watched.

I asked Mrs. Beaty, what was his story? Had he always been an alcoholic? She said, no. “He had a girlfriend and her son living with him. He was very in love with her, and loved that little boy, too. And then, she left him, and he’s been drinking ever since.” Wiping tears away, Mrs. Beaty said, “Pat is like a son to me,” and she went inside.

I felt rotten.

Pat did return a few months later. I saw him walk in to the front yard from the living room window. Remembering that the last time I saw him he was drunk out of his mind and offering to fight me, I met him in the front yard to head off any trouble. He was sober and healthy looking, and nicely dressed in cowboy boots, jeans, a button-up shirt, a blazer, a scarf around his neck, and a cool looking wide-brimmed hat from under which long black hair hung to his shoulders. Pat looked like a musician.

“Whatcha doing here, Pat?”

“I’ve just come to see Mrs. Beaty.”

“Oh, okay, no problem,” I said and went back inside.

A few months later I read in the newspaper that a man had been hit and killed by a driver on a poorly lit stretch of street on the East side. Later it was reported that the dead man’s name was Pat “Taco” Ryan. Another article appeared a few days later. It was entitled, “Late saxophonist left a legacy of his music.”

Sometimes, life was a struggle for Ryan, as often is for artists and others who, as Thompson says, “always take that chance.” As Karstein puts it, “like all of us, he fought personal demons in his life.” But, like most first-class musicians, what he’ll ultimately be remembered for is his dedication to his art, and for the beautiful notes he left behind to resonate in hearts and minds and souls.

“Pat wasn’t a stockbroker going out and playing the Warren Duck Club for two hours and then going back to the day job,” Thompson says. “There was no golden parachute for Pat. He never had a house; he never had a really nice car. He lived the artist’s life. He gave it all up for the music.”

His first love was blue note jazz, though he played rock and western swing just as often. Pat was a vaunted figure in the Tulsa music scene, and considered a prodigy from the beginning of his career. He had played with the likes of Eric Clapton, and in the band Asleep at the Wheel. He played with Leon Russell and J.J. Cale, and many others.

Some of his stuff was still in the garage. I needed the space and was clearing it out when I found his year book. I thumbed through the pages of the year book, and read the comments that people had written.

He was truly a loved individual, and no doubt popular beyond belief. He had graduated from Edison High School, the same as me, but many years earlier in 1970, when I was not even a year old.

Though the article I had read in the paper mentioned it, it was there in the pages of the year book–a verified, and depressing fact. Pat “Taco” Ryan was voted most talented his senior year, and destined for great things. I also found a framed photo. In it was a beautiful young woman with long golden hair, a little boy and Pat. They looked very happy.

Though you never get to see his face, Pat “Taco” Ryan is the saxophonist in this video.

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Collin Hinds

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Brenda Hearthstone
2 years ago

To Taco’s family still seeing this… I went to the estate sale some years ago. I have many of his and his sister’s children’s books and a lot of the sheet music from the living room. And much more. When in the house, I didn’t know who he was but all his high school music trophies were still in his room. I left wondering what became of these folks… it was like life abruptly stopped for the whole house. I found so much that I am happy to return the books, anything.

Marie
3 years ago

My husband and I lived in Van Nuys, CA between 1984 and 1992. Taco was living at Marci Levy’s in North Hollywood the same time. My husband, also a musician, had known Taco from their Tulsa days and he came over to our house all the time. He was such a sweetie and so funny and talented. I remember him telling me how he got the name Taco and it was from Houston not Tulsa. Or maybe he was relating the story to friends in Tulsa and they dubbed him that. Anyway, when he was a young kid, he and some of his friends were playing in the street and some neighbor yelled at them calling them collectively Taco to get out of his way as he was pulling out of his driveway. No matter, Taco fit him very well and we shall all miss him very much.

Kris
3 years ago

I am Pat’s niece. We think about him all the time. Although he had his issues with alcohol for sure, he never had suicidal tendencies as were expressed in this post. And we were told he was hit after leaving a bar that night and walking across a very dark road. No ones fault that he was hit when the city had not lit the street well there to begin with. Apparently people had been hit there before as well. I was the first one to the door the night the police and chaplain came to tell us he had been killed. I will never forget the screams from my mother (his sister) that night. What was a blessing is that my grandparents (his parents) were staying with us that night from Houston so they were there to hear it themselves instead of my mom having to break that news over the phone. I am thankful for that. What is very chilling to my family still to this day is that none of us identified him, we don’t know who did. He was cremated. Although from reading the police report I am thankful no one did see him in that state.
We loved Pat very much and still talk about the funny, talented, kind soul he was. He had his ups and downs no doubt but he was still my uncle and he loved all of us so much. He loved coming over and seeing us when he could. I am grateful for those times. It saddens me that not everyone got to see him at his very best. Music is something that has carried on in our family and I will never forget him cheering us kids on when he was in town. It was a happy accident that I stumbled upon this tonight. I am happy to see he was loved and missed by others as well. His talent will remain in music forever. We will continue to all hold on to the great memories. Rest In Peace.

Case Tanner
3 years ago

I doubt anyone will ever see this pay was a good friend of my father life can be strange for sure

mike ashe
Reply to  Case Tanner
10 months ago

Case, I know your father.
He was a great guy too.

RANDALL NE SMITH
5 years ago

Great old memories, Scott. Pat (Taco) was a wonderful guy. I think we talked about it recently, but, yeah, I remember the infamous Manor Downs show! Lol.

Scott Smith
5 years ago

I went to Braeburn Ele School in Houston with Pat. He was a year older than me so he was closer to my brother Randy. I fished with Pat and his dad on their boat near Rockport. One Christmas our cat had kittens and Pats mom claimed the black kitten for Pat for Christmas. It made him so happy. We played for the Bears together, the Braeburn football team. He had a crew cut and was a good looking happy kid. Once I intercepted a pass in a game and he was so excited for me, which was a big deal to me cause he was older. I still have a team photo with him in it. Years later I saw him play for the Wheel several times while I was in college. One time I was broke and he generously gave me a “fin” as he called it. Another time a friend and I met up with him after a show in a hotel room, I think in Austin. He and Chris O’Connell busted into the room laughing, saying they had gone across to Mexico and got married. We all had a good laugh and drank some tequila to celebrate. Another time he stayed with me in New Braunfels and with brother Randy we floated in a tank and drank a few beers. Then we took him to a Wheel show at Manor Downs in Austin, arriving late. Ray mentioned to the audience his sax player was missing but then Pat (now Taco) walked out and hit every note. Those are my memories of Pat, all good ones. Randy told me about Pats death and I felt a deep loss. He was such a sweet, kind and good guy.

Debra Bullard
5 years ago

A fabulous band from Tulsa played occasionally on Dickson St in Fayetteville, AR back in the 70’s. The sax player was incomparable, called Taco. I had the gift of seeing them at least a couple of times, but do not remember the name of the band. In the late 70’s, Asleep played in Beaumont, TX, and I’d heard that Taco had joined the band. As I couldn’t go, I asked one of the club employees to tell him Hi from a fan from Fayetteville. My bud said he was happy to hear. If someone could prompt me on the name of the Tulsa band, I’d appreciate it. Pat Ryan was awesome to many of us, I’m sorry he didn’t realize. I’m thankful to know his given name, also.

James Miller
Reply to  Debra Bullard
5 years ago

Debra: Thanks for the comment. Taco had so many friends and admirers. Of course he would never tell you that if you didn’t ask. I miss my friend. I wish he was here.

James Miller
6 years ago

Does anyone know where Pat is buried? I coming through Tulsa this summer and wanted to pay me respects. Thanks.

Rusty Crutcher
6 years ago

Pat and I grew up listening to Coltrane, Adderley, and Desmond through 1965-68. He was a beautiful, delicate, and driven soul. We were best friends through those high school years. He moved to Tulsa for his 1968-69 school year. We lost touch, then reconnected in LA between 1982 – 1986. I could be a little off with these dates. He called me in 1996, while I was in England doing a recording gig and wanted to will me his instruments. He was in the dark places, but I didn’t get it that he was reaching out. So sorry. He just wanted to play trad jazz and not be bothered with the world. The world didn’t mesh with Pat. For me, he was always Pat. I think “Taco” happened in Tulsa.
Still thinking of you Pat,
Rusty Crutcher

Tierra B
9 years ago

My mom is the driver that killed him. Every year around August (when she hit Pat), she gets nightmares about it and everything that happened replays in her head. I was just a couple years old when it happened and when lived in Tulsa, OK. Weird part is his band won a Grammy on her birth year and then his suicidal tendicies led him to jumping out infront of my moms car.

Reply to  Tierra B
9 years ago

That’s very sad for your mom Tierra. I hope, as time goes by, she stops having nightmares.

RonB
9 years ago

He died after throwing himself in front my ex wife’s car. I remember coming home from flight school that night, to a police chaplain in my kitchen consoling my wife. Very talented man he was, and may he rest in peace. God bless you Pat!!!

Reply to  RonB
9 years ago

Wow. Our condolences Ron, and thanks for sharing that with our readers.

Rusty Crutcher
Reply to  RonB
6 years ago

Hello,
I’m so sorry to hear this is how it happened. The newspapers made it sound like he just stumbled drunk into the street. We were childhood friends discovering music together between 1966 – 68. Life can be so tragic.
Be well
Rusty Crutcher

James Miller
Reply to  Rusty Crutcher
6 years ago

Rusty, did you get my reply?

James Miller
Reply to  Rusty Crutcher
6 years ago

Pat was in rehab in Arizona before I met him. He lived with me for a couple of years before he went back to Tulsa. Loved the man and miss him dearly.

10 years ago

Thanks for sharing this story Collin. I recently found this video of Pat “Taco” playing with Asleep at Wheel back in 1980. “Taco” is featured playing a solo and I hope this will be a nice memory of him for his family and friends. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k9o3yuJJZEI

10 years ago

Thanks for the article. Pat lived with me in Phoenix and we were friends for years. I went to the University of Tulsa Law School because Pat lived close by. We stayed friends until I could not get in touch with him. I finally learned recently what happened. I can’t believe he is gone. He really was one of my very best friends and I love him. I never really had close friends but Pat was always there for me. I miss him so much and I think about him all the time. If there is a heaven I hope to see Pat again.

Reply to  Jim Miller
10 years ago

I’m sorry for your loss.

Rusty Crutcher
Reply to  Jim Miller
6 years ago

Hi,
I believe Pat was at the half-way house then. I really thought he had a chance. Was he really at a half-way house? That’s what he told me anyway.

James Miller
Reply to  Rusty Crutcher
6 years ago

Yes Pat was in a rehab in Arizona before I knew him. He was friend of mine knew him and asked me if I would rent a room to him. I never knew about his musical talent until one evening I told him that Clapton was my favorite guitarist and Pat then brought down a photo of him playing with Clapton in front of a HUGE crowd (stadium). After that, I started asking questions and pried out of him his musical talent and connections. I met his friends when they came through town (Scott Music, Teagarten?, etc., Pat got me tickets to Bob Dylan (sat on stage) and numerous other shows. When I went to law school pat was doing fine at first then the drinking started again and it went downhill from there. I miss him dearly. Does anyone know here he is buried? I’m coming through Tulsa this summer and wanted to pay my respects.

Rusty Crutcher
11 years ago

Thanks for your article. Pat and I grew up together in Houston, before his Dad got transferred to Tulsa, listening to Coltrane, Rollins, and Cannonball records. We spun those L.P.’s over and over again to copt those killer solos. We also studied sax by the same teacher and played in the jazz ensemble at Robt. E. Lee High School. A few months before he transferred we co-won an award at a jazz festival in Brownwood TX. Pat was a gentle soul who was born 20 years too late. In his heart he was a trad jazz man who could not fit in to the era he lived. Granted he played some name pop acts but he didn’t relate to it at all. Once I went to see him at Knotts Berry Farm playing with Asleep at the Wheel and he didn’t show up. He was looking for a new mouthpiece in L.A.
I miss Pat and think about him often. We had a lot of great laughs and did many crazy stunts in Hi School.
I will see you again.
Rusty Crutcher aka Jay

Phillip Tripp
11 years ago

I remember a hot summer afternoon in the San Fernando Valley in Ca ..Circa 1987, driving down Ventura Blvd with my best buddy Taco Ryan. He had been on quite a bender for a few weeks, as his girlfriend Norma had left him. We were trying to find his car (he would often lose it)A piss yellow old Oldsmobile with Oklahoma plates
that once took out the side wall in the parking lot of Casa Vega restaurant down the street.

While we were driving an old Bob Dylan tune came on the radio, Lay Lady Lay. I am a big Dylan fan but it was not one of my favorites. Taco turned the radio up and the song just echoed throughout. We were kind of stoned and we just listened in silence to the song, talking quietly singing the song. I looked over and these big old Crocodile tears were just rolling down his cheeks. I understood where he had gone.

Whenever I hear that song now I think of Taco. Its now one of my Dylan favorites….

12 years ago

Excellent story, very well told. Artists do seem to suffer from life more than the average Joe, the road life and playing in bars and clubs into the early hours can lead a young man down paths not open to us. I have known a few musicians in my time and they tend to have great highs and deadly lows. Very few of them were on an even keel.

You sure you are not a writer who does part-time lawyering.

12 years ago

Now THIS is damn good!

Robert E. Lee
12 years ago

Thanks for this article. I enjoyed it immensely and can understand why Mr. Ryan is adored by his fans.

Michael John Scott
12 years ago

Most excellent indeed!! Thanks for a great read and good listening.

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