The airwaves are quieter today, marked by the impending silence of a true radio icon. John Oakley, the voice that has stirred Toronto for decades, is signing off from 640 AM this Friday.
Oakley wasn’t just a broadcaster; he was a force. For ten years, he commanded the afternoon drive, but his influence stretched back further – through morning shows and late nights, beginning in Orillia, Montreal, and eventually CFRB. He arrived at 640 in 2003, instantly electrifying the city with his signature bell and the rousing chords of “Johnny B. Goode.”
He built a show unlike any other, a vibrant arena where opposing viewpoints clashed with unfiltered honesty. There were no sanitized debates, no carefully curated narratives. Oakley welcomed everyone – from controversial figures like disbarred lawyer Harry Cupido to sharp-tongued pundits like Charles McVety and Susan G. Cole – fostering a raw, electric energy that captivated listeners.
His producers – Richard Syrett, Victor “The Machine” Machado, Lyndsey Vanstone, and Michael J. Downey – were instrumental in pushing boundaries, but the show always bore Oakley’s unmistakable stamp. His linguistic precision, his quick wit, and his unwavering commitment to free speech defined every broadcast.
Perhaps no single story embodies Oakley’s impact more than the rise of Rob Ford. Before he was a mayor embroiled in scandal, Ford was a political outsider, largely ignored by the establishment. Oakley gave him a platform, a weekly segment to expose what he saw as wasteful spending at City Hall.
That regular spot wasn’t just airtime; it was a launchpad. Year after year, Ford’s passionate critiques resonated with voters, ultimately propelling him to the mayor’s office in 2010. His first post-victory interview? With John Oakley, naturally, broadcast to a suddenly massive audience.
Oakley didn’t shy away from Ford’s flaws, but he treated him with a fundamental respect, recognizing the genuine connection he had with everyday people. He saw a man who cared about safeguarding taxpayer money, a perspective that resonated deeply with many Torontonians. Ford himself credited Oakley with his political success, and even with finding sobriety in his final year.
Oakley’s fairness extended to all, even those with whom he vehemently disagreed. He challenged assumptions, questioned narratives, and refused to accept easy answers. David Suzuki, the renowned environmentalist, famously walked off the show after being pressed on the hypocrisy of his gas-powered bus. But even then, Oakley’s microphone remained open to him.
This week’s broadcasts have been a nostalgic journey through Oakley’s remarkable career, filled with hilarious anecdotes and cherished memories – from tales of Elvis sightings to playful banter with Jerry Seinfeld. It’s a fitting tribute to a broadcaster who consistently delivered top-tier radio.
The reason for his departure remains unstated, though it seems a simple desire for retirement after nearly half a century of dedication. But like legendary athletes who find retirement doesn’t quite suit them, there’s a sense that Oakley’s voice may not be silenced for long.
For now, Toronto celebrates a brilliant career, a legacy of fearless broadcasting, and the countless memories created around the Oakley Show. It was a privilege to listen, to appear as a guest, and to witness the power of truly independent radio. And with only a few broadcasts remaining, the city holds its ears close, savoring the final moments.
