Ricky Adams memories:

A legend died Thursday, June 25, 2009. Few, globally speaking, noticed during a week filled with notable deaths.
First, Ed McMahon, who made millions playing second fiddle, died June 23 after having fallen on rough times financially, about six years after receiving a $23 million settlement after toxic mold in his home killed his dog.
Johnny Carson's career sidekick said two ex-wives and living too high on the hog bankrupted him and cast him back to TV huckstering.
Before weekly tabloids catering to those addicted to Hollywood's glitterati reached supermarket racks, two more deaths left untold millions, Elizabeth Taylor among them, "devastated," Liz's word.
First was Farrah Fawcett, who, unlike all Mrs. Ed McMahons, was once married to a lowly "$6 Million Man."
The pin-up darling of the 1970s, during her year as one of "Charlie's Angels,"did for women's hair and toothy smiles what McMahon did for the Publishers’ Clearing House.
Fawcett was everywhere and, despite breaking her contract after her one angelic year, remained a media darling, especially during her courageous battle with cancer the past two years.
Her performance in "The Burning Bed" gave battered, beleaguered women hope, but having an out-of-wedlock son, Redmon, a convicted druggie who didn't know if he could leave prison to attend Mom's funeral and comfort his daddy, Ryan O'Neal, never gained approval for her in some circles.
O’Neal, in several taped news reports, said after years of his begging, Fawcett finally agreed last week to marry him when her health improved.
Unlike McMahon, and not counting the past two years, neither Fawcett nor O’Neal had done any work viewed inside the House of Adams this millennium.
It's been almost 40 years since theater-goers lined up outside Clark Cinema in Westgate waiting to see O'Neal and gorgeous Ali McGraw in "Love Story," entertainment categorized here similarly to "Achy-Breaky Heart," you know, like Brylcream; "A little dab'll do ya."
O'Neal's "Paper Moon" performance was a goody, but knowing the book from which the story came was set partially in Dothan and in Enterprise's historic Rawls' Hotel, not in the Depression-era Midwest, was maddening.
Long before her cancer, Fawcett’s "Late Night With David Letterman” appearance made many wonder if she, like the late former Alabama governor James E. "Big Jim" Folsom, might've been drunk or drugged before the broadcast.
Some also wondered how much cosmetic surgery Fawcett had; regardless, the number paled, no pun intended, in comparison to those performed on the third talented celebrity, the self-dubbed King of Pop, Michael Jackson, who died, somewhat curiously, some $400 million in debt, despite a $1 billion Sony contract signed in 1991.
While countless TV reports praised Jackson's talents, few mentioned a $20 million, out-of-court, child-molestation settlement.
Starting out, Mike Jackson took over his brothers' band, "The Jackson Five," and later left them in his wake, but none of their songs has been requested at gatherings deejayed by yours truly the past 37 years.
Now, the true legend mentioned above was Phyllis Thomason, 68, who unexpectedly died in her Dothan apartment Thursday.
Forever Hollywood glamorous, Phyllis was arguably the prettiest Enterprise High graduate ever.
Everyone knew it.
As Rob Conner said upon learning of her death, “Now there's a real loss."
Note: When the "Big Moroccan," Julian Thompson, called with news of "Jacko's" death, the immediate thought here was Mrs. Maisie Stanley's dog had died, which it had.
The writer, a huge "Jackson Five" fan, enjoys many tunes by Chuck Jackson, Deon Jackson, J.J. Jackson, Mahalia Jackson and Stonewall Jackson, and he ran out of words before advertising pitchman Billy Mays died Sunday.