MAKING a list of outstanding radio personalities has proven to be a most difficult task because there are just too many of them. We must remember that this medium started in the early 1920s and by the time it peaked in the 1940s and 1950s, there were some 30 radio stations in Manila and hundreds more in the provinces.

We put a lot of weight on a person's longevity in the medium as well as his excellence in the area that he chose. We also considered the contributions he has made to the growth of the medium and his impact on the listening public. In one instance, impact was the main consideration.

Here, in alphabetical order, is our list:

Frankie has had a distinguished career in radio, starting out as a DJ and making a name for himself as one of the more credible newscasters who didn't just read the news but also understood it. His live coverage of special events was always competent. In the late 90s, he became the voice that prodded errant government officials to shape up in the "Hoy Gising" portion of Radyo Patrol.

Before instant replays in slomo and computer-generated stats, there was Willie Hernandez, whose play-by-play coverage of sports events here and abroad was as exciting as an episode of "NYPD Blue." His patented announcing brought listeners where the action was, no matter what the sport.

It was a voice that slowed down when the basketball coach asked his team to freeze the ball (there was no 25-second violation back in the 50s) and went at a fast clip when the action became fast and furious. Nothing escaped Willie's eagle eye so listeners didn't need a TV camera to visualize the game.

Willie can rightly be called the father of sportscasting in the Philippines.

She was the voice on Radyo Bandido that kept everyone's spirits alive during the Edsa revolution. Despite the dictatorial government's vast media resources, more people listened to her as she kept listeners abreast of what was going on during those chaotic days.

When it came to the top hits, Bingo Lacson was the DJ to listen to. Young listeners swooned over the many selections she played and, despite tough competition from male DJs, Bingo held her own and became one of a few female DJs who were credible in their jobs. Her voice was not hysterical like most male DJs then and she always made sense when she spoke. No wonder she remained on top of the heap for many years.

Radio has always appealed mostly to the masa audience. That wasn't true when it came to Joey Lardizabal. He, Jose Mari Velez, Harry Gasser and Joe Cantada were called DZHP's personality announcers in the late 60s. Joey knew how to reach the upscale market with his extensive knowledge of music, his familiarity with the latest trends, and his awareness of current issues.

Joey had a way with words that impressed listeners used to other announcers who merely read the liner notes on the album that they were playing. His sense of humor was understated and easy to take. He graduated to television eventually but, just as his career was taking off, a sudden illness took him away from the airlanes, leaving a gaping void in the industry.

"Lundagin mo, baby" was everyone's favorite cheer in the '60s. It was a line that Johnny de Leon popularized in his radio program. Among many personality announcers, Johnny was at the top of the list. He was a DJ, commentator, public service announcer and sometimes even dispensed advice to listeners with love problems. Johnny was someone the masa identified with and for many years, and was ABS-CBN's unchallenged top drawer.

With a name like Magpayo, it's only natural that her specialty as a radio announcer was and continues to be giving advice. For decades, Tia Dely has dispensed advice to the lovelorn, listeners with money and health problems, people who need cheering up and always, no matter how serious the problem, she is the epitome of serenity. No problem is that gigantic for her to panic on the air. She has a calming effect on people and many times that's all problem-saddled listeners need, a shoulder to cry on, someone who will listen.

Tia Dely is still on the air and retirement is still far from her plans as she reaches out "sa iyo, sa iyo, at higit sa lahat.....sa iyo."

There were many titas on the air but to the bulilits of the '50s and '60s, the only Tita they recognized and loved was Tita Betty. Like most titas, she spoiled her nephews and nieces with entertaining features at a time when there was no "Seame Street" to keep the kids happy. Her kiddie show was a refreshing change from the many inane programs in those days.

She was the voice of Lola Basyang, Severino Reyes' lovable character who weaved amazing tales about diwatas and other fantastic creatures. It was only one of the many voices she could do in the numerous soap operas she joined. She was a child, country lass,

little boy, witch, society girl, whatever the script called for. It was a talent that radio stations appreciated because soaps had low budgets and the less people who voiced for them, the less expensive it was for the stations.

Norman Reyes is part of Philippine history. It was he who told listeners on underground radio, "Bataan has fallen...but the spirit that made it stand, a beacon to all liberty-loving people, cannot fall." That memorable piece became a staple for elocution pieces at the Ateneo and other schools for many years. His words served as a rallying point for guerrillas who continued to oppose the Japanese conquerors.

After the war, Norman became one of the early practitioners of broadcast journalism, covering major events here and abroad for the government station. Broadcast pioneer Koko Trinidad says he was one of the brightest members of his staff.

Insomniacs and night owls found it hard to resist Jo San Diego's invitation as she caressed listeners with her bedroom voice--"Won't you hold my hand on 'All Night Stand?"' When the clock struck twelve, you could be sure almost everyone was tuned to DZMT to hold Jo's hand till the wee hours of the morning as she played mostly love songs and talked about almost anything. It didn't matter to the listeners who were in love with her voice and fantasized spending the midnight hour with her.

It's hard to be a comedian on radio because a large part of making people laugh is visual. Cris de Vera overcame this limitation and overshadowed other funnymen in this auditory medium. He was a master at voices as well as languages. His impersonation of a Japanese officer has become a classic.