Bill Drake did for Top 40 Radio what Ray Kroc did for hamburgers.

Boss Radio was to American ears in the 1960s what McDonald's was for teenage mouths.

There are many tastes. These kinds of people intuitively know what people want.The means of delivery, when organized properly, can achieve fame and fortune.

My wish for Bill and his friends is that they remember Bill as I do: A Take No Fucking Prisoners Kickass Rockin' Radio man.

I owe much to Bill and his partner, Gene Chenault, who hired me for L.A. when I got out of Halawa Jail in 1965. Seems like a long time ago. But ideas of time are shifting. Now, the only true long-term impact on society is measured in Wikipedia space.

Bill was born Phil Yarborough in Waycross, GA on January 14, 1937. His grandparents raised him in their home. The first recollection he had of radio was on December 7, 1941.

A four-year old puttering in the yard, he heard screaming from the house and ran in. Some had fallen in horror in front of the big radio. As the box shrunk and the power of radio grew, he saw in it, as did many of his age and intentions, his ticket out of town.

His grandfather was the town postmaster and a convivial, popular person who encouraged Phil to pursue basketball, radio, girls, and, you know, whatever.

Radio won over the youngster, who was doing remote broadcasts from the cashier's booth of the local theater while listening each night to incoming signals from Atlanta, up from Florida. But most avidly, he tuned to the hardcore soul stations from Texas that could not be heard in the daytime.

Drake and I had little in common other than our mutual love of rock ‘n’ roll radio and properly boiled peanuts. Our only unresolved issue was who produced the best-tasting boiled peanuts. He said Georgia and I said Hawaii.

And we would talk, OK, argue wildly, at great lengths about the boiled peanut. So engrossed we never even got to price or ambiance.

Bill Drake and I fought the toughest Top 40 war ever in the streets, fields, fog, mud, snow, smog, police, hoods of ’60s California.

No one ever beat us when we worked together.

So Aloha, Bill.

And wikiwiki (Hawaiian for "fast") this Farewell to whichever electronic space it belongs.