So Long, Ike

Ike Turner died yesterday.

We've all heard rumors that he wasn't a very nice person. But we also know for a fact that he was a talented musician who never really got a lot of credit.

I think he would have been pleased at the TV obituary I saw, which referred to him first and foremost as a rock-and-roll pioneer (Ike Turner is credited by many music historians with performing with his band on the first rock-and-roll recording ever, way back in 1951) and naming highlights of his long career before any mention of what they described as a "notorious temper."

He's in God's hands now, and God is sure to let him know how He feels about whatever Ike did in his lifetime, just like He will with all of us.

I commend Tina Turner for her classy response to Ike's passing, which was . . . nothing. A spokesperson for her pointed out that she hasn't seen Ike in nearly 35 years and would not be making any statement about his death. Quite a contrast from the tacky Cher One-Name, who trashed Sonny Bono like yesterday's banana skin every chance she got, but yet hogged the spotlight at his funeral, weeping and carrying on like she'd lost her best friend and conveniently not saying a word of apology about all those mean things she said while he was alive to hear them. (Okay, so their marriage was probably more placid than that of the Turners and Sonny died tragically, but there's a valuable lesson in there about speaking ill of people nonetheless). And don't get me started on how Diana Ross took the spotlight at the funeral of Florence Ballard, not sitting quietly in the back with Mary Wilson and other folks from Motown, but marching right up and plopping her ass down in the very first pew, alongside Florence's mother, children and estranged husband.

What's done is done, as they say. You can't re-write history. Tina said what she wanted to say in her autobiography. No point in milking so many years later merely for the sake of publicity.