It was in the late 50's or early 60's that I had a late night show on radio station KGU in Honolulu. I played jazz and big band, and it was a call-in show. The military guys on Christmas Island used to call in every now and then from down there to make requests. I believe KGU was a 50,000 watter, so they received the broadcast loud and clear.

The local scene was a pretty wild affair every night. The show ran from 9 p.m. to 1 a.m. The show built up a list of regular callers, and I began to give them nicknames. One fellow who called always sounded as if he were all alone in the world, so I gave him the name of "Lonely Wolf." I could recognize him by his voice.

There was also a young lady who called that was really upbeat. She was always laughing and telling quite funny stories. I named her "Vivacious Jackie."

So they would call and dedicate songs to each other. One night she called and said that she and "Lonely Wolf were engaged and were getting ready to be married. I was astounded. To this day I do not know how they met (I never gave out phone numbers on the air, and neither did the listeners. But somehow they met. Lovers do find a way.

I asked them, over the air, since they met on the show, would they get married on the show. They agreed, so one evening we had the marriage, complete with all their guests and the proper refreshments.

After they began together, their calls became less, and less, until they stopped. I have often wondered how their marriage made out.

I was always the fill-in man on the board at the station. When someone was unavailable for some reason or the other, I was called man the board. I enjoyed it, because of the extra money.

One night, while manning the board, a teletype from UP came in reporting a Pan American plane had gone down in the sea off Seattle. I made the announcement, and our Sports Director and announcer Gene Good came in. News was our big thing at the station. So, we began reporting what was happening. We were in contact with Pan American, the different Armed Services and the Air-Sea Rescue people. Gene was in a studio off to my left, and when a call came in I would raise my hand so that he could take the message. When he was ready to go on the air, he would nod his head. At that time, the "On-Air" red light was located on the top of his console so that he would know when his mike was "hot."

Gene was facing me, his back to the console, and looking out through the glass window of the studio. I thought I saw him nod his head so I opened the mike. As loud as he could, Gene yelled, "the son-of-a-bitch won't give me any information!"

It was really a night to remember.

Patt Patterson died July 15, 1998, in Honolulu. He was 75.