2072 Bill Crowley (1947-2019): An Appreciation
In an age of viral internet everything, you’d think that the death of Bill Crowley would have traveled at light speed among his friends and colleagues. But it didn’t. It took days. And it was heartbreaking and still is. And it will be tomorrow.
Bill was a newsroom rock at the major networks. A writer/producer and anchor you could count on for a steady hand in a crisis. But even more important, a steady hand when there was no crisis.
He was a leading personality on New York radio. Not a megastar, but like all else about him, steady. Reliable. Better than most at it.
This was a big man. Six-feet-something, 300 pounds. That’s a lotta rock to carry around, but easier in your 20s than after 70, especially for someone with a family history of heart trouble and a quintuple bypass in the 1990s. Bill was 71, about half way to 72.
Now, back to 1969, summertime, 50 years ago. We had an opening in the WHLI radio News Room on New York’s Long Island. I went through dozens of tapes and resumes, and Bill’s stood out. I called him and invited him in for an interview. He asked if he could come in on his lunch hour from his summer job at a village swimming pool.
A word about WHLI. We had a dress code. Ties. Jackets. Skirts or “appropriate” slacks for the women. And here comes Bill. Bigfoot. Red swim trunks, a “Freeport NY” sweatshirt and a whistle on a lanyard around his neck.
The owner, Paul Godofsky, passed through the lobby, then asked the telephone operator who “that guy” is here to see, then came down the hall to the newsroom to scold me.
I explained the costume and told him “that’s going to be your next newscaster” and handed him Bill’s audition tape.” The “interview” took almost no time. And neither did the hiring. Oh, and neither did Paul’s visit after Bill’s first day on the air.
“You made the right choice and I shouldn’t have commented on his clothing.” Damn, right, boss! Paul was stubborn. But he was smarter than he was stubborn. I miss him, too.
Bill advanced through the ranks of broadcasters faster than I did. And we used to joke that I hired him first and he got even by wedging me into job after job for decades thereafter.
Our last collaboration was at NBC’s Weekend Today Show. He was news producer, I was one of two newswriters. There were many intervening years. But it always was hand in glove and I’m not sure who was which.
Bill freelanced for most of his later years. He ping-ponged between NBC and CBS. He was a correspondent with the NBC Radio Network. So was I, but only because he recommended me to the NBC News Vice President, Jim Farley, and then to the Morning News Director, Jim Dick on the TV side.
Bill was married twice. And I knew both of his wives before he did. His first wife was a copywriter/editor at WHLI. His second, Joan Arnold, was a “kid” in a youth group my former wife and I had led.
Joan is the mother of his children. She is a nurse, and I can’t reach out to her because I don’t know how.
If there is a heaven, surely Bill is there now. If there is a heaven and it is divided by nation, Bill -- the Irish Poet -- is sure to be in that part. And Bill, if you’re listening, that has to be the happiest part of the hereafter and I hope that if it exists, you’ll let me visit when my own time comes.
I respected you, admired you and I loved you. And I thank you for 50 years of wonderful collaboration, friendship, mentorship and menteeship.
Andy Fisher contributed reporting.
I’m Wes Richards. My opinions are my own but you’re welcome to them. ®
Comments to wesrichards@gmail.com
© WJR 2012
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