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Bill Heywood commits suicide

Bill Heywood & Susan Heywood commit suicide in Scottsdale motel

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Radio personality Bill Heywood, wife end lives in death pact

by Ofelia Madrid and Randy Cordova - Jan. 5, 2012 11:21 PM

The Republic | azcentral.com

Bill Heywood & Susan Heywood commit suicide in Scottsdale hotel motel room Bill Heywood knew he was losing his wife and soulmate to illness, and the longtime radio personality knew he couldn't live without her, friends say.

In recent times, when close friend Gary Edens asked about Susan, the normally affable Heywood was evasive, Edens said. Heywood's wife of nearly 35 years was known to have a heart condition. Friends knew they had had financial trouble, too.

The couple, described by friends as "joined at the hip," culminated their three-decade journey together this week, when Bill, 75, and Susan, 70, apparently took methodical steps to end their lives.

Scottsdale police say the Heywoods wrote down funeral arrangements and left instructions for family and friends at their home in northeast Phoenix. Then, on Tuesday evening, Susan checked into the Homewood Suitesnear Scottsdale and Mountain View roads. Investigators believe either Bill or Susan put a note on the suite's bedroom door.

Then, they sat on the bed together and someone -- it is unclear whether one or both -- pulled a trigger.

Two handguns were found near the bodies, each shot in the head, police said.

News of the deaths stunned Edens, especially because he had exchanged Facebook messages with Bill Heywood on New Year's Day. Heywood had wished Edens a happy birthday for later in the week.

"Would love to have a copy of pic with you and Charlie. Can't get it to print off my computer. Have a Happy!! Cheers :)," Heywood wrote. It was signed "Sweet" Bill, a nickname from the radio days.

The Heywoods leave an adult daughter, Nicole, who lives in the Valley.

A housekeeper entered the hotel suite around 1 p.m. Wednesday and found a suicide note on the door to the bedroom, said Sgt. Mark Clark, a Scottsdale police spokesman. The note said there were two suicides inside the bedroom, Clark said.

Police are calling the case a death investigation until the medical examiner returns with a preliminary report, which is expected in the next few days, Clark said.

"It's pretty clear something was planned," Clark said.

Their final instructions were found at the Heywoods' Kierland condominium, Clark said. "Information that was putting their affairs in order. Instructions for how to proceed for the funeral and instructions for family and friends," he said.

Police have not released the wording of the note or instructions. A blossoming romance

The deaths of Heywood and his manager wife ended what many friends have called a "complete romance."

Susan was an account executive at an advertising agency in the 1970s when she hired Heywood to do Circle K commercials. He was an old-school gentleman with supersoft wit, and she was the kind of woman who loved to lavish friends and family with gifts, friends said.

A romance blossomed, and the two were married on Valentine's Day 1977.

Heywood was already at the top of his game with a radio career stretching back to the 1960s. In 1973, Edens was general manager of 550 AM and was looking for someone to replace his station's morning man. Heywood had left Phoenix for Las Vegas, and Edens went after him.

"We cut a deal on a napkin, and he joined us in 1973," Edens said. "We had a nice 14-year run."

During that time, Heywood was honored by industry publication Billboard three times. In 1974, the magazine named him Grand International Disc Jockey of the Year.

"He was just huge," friend and former radio personality Preston Westmoreland said. "They held a ceremony in the biggest banquet room of the Camelback Inn. The parking lot was jammed, and thousands of people wanted to meet him or just see him. He was that big."

When he was at his peak, NBC filmed a disaster movie called "A Fire in the Sky" in 1978 about a comet hurtling toward Phoenix. Heywood and longtime Valley radio and television personality Pat McMahon both had speaking roles.

Heywood spent 15 years of his radio career with KOY-AM (then 550 AM; now 1230) and the defunct KOY-FM. There were also four stints on KTAR-AM (620), as well as a morning show on KFYI-AM (550).

Susan Heywood helped her husband promote his name as a brand, Edens said. "Heywood in the morning," Edens said. "People would sing the Bill Heywood song, the KOY jingle. We had multiple versions of that. He was a legendary morning man." An evolving radio career

Tim Hattrick, now part of "Tim and Willy" on KMLE-FM (107.9), was partnered with Heywood in 1986 when KOY started operating on the FM dial. Hattrick was a young up-and-comer, while Heywood was an established personality.

"I think I was brought in to sort of hip it up, and I actually sort of dumbed it down," Hattrick said. "It was very intimidating to think I would step in and work with him every day. But, as everybody who works in radio will tell you, he was very kind and gracious. I learned a lot from him."

Hattrick remembered they once made an appearance at a charity basketball game in Buckeye. Heywood stayed around for an hour after the game, signing autographs and speaking with fans.

"He could have hopped into his Mercedes and left, but he stayed and shook every hand," Hattrick said. "That left such an impact on me, but he was like that. He was just a sweet, sweet man."

The pairing with Hattrick lasted less than a year, as Heywood was replaced by Glenn Beck, who was moving his way up the radio chain and would eventually become a Fox News personality.

"I've seen a lot of bitter and angry people in radio over the years, but Bill wasn't one of them," Hattrick said. "He was like, 'This isn't my thing anymore, and I'm going to step aside.' When Glenn came along, he wasn't sad; he was gracious."

Heidi Foglesong partnered with Heywood on the morning show on KFYI-AM (550) from 2001 to 2003.

"I would say Bill was one of the classiest men I've worked with in radio," said Foglesong, who owns a Valley media marketing company. "I came from television and didn't know much about radio, and I got to work with this person who, in his heyday, was iconic. He was phenomenal, top-shelf talent and really taught me a lot about radio."

She recalls how much the Heywoods loved animals and receiving photos of him taken with his pets.

"He was a fur person," she said with a laugh.

Foglesong hopes the circumstances of his death don't overshadow his contributions to the Valley media scene.

"This is a hard business, and it's very hard to sustain and maintain, but he kept coming back and had a long, productive career. That's quite impressive, especially in today's society where people come and go very quickly. He left a mark."

Real-estate, financial struggles

After Heywood left radio for real estate in the mid-2000s, he urged Westmoreland to follow, although Westmoreland said it wasn't an easy adjustment for Heywood.

"It was the toughest thing he ever did," he said. "He was the velvet voice, so smooth, so easygoing. He wanted to be on the radio so bad. But Bill was a nice guy, and he maybe outlived the idea that being a nice guy on radio was a good thing to be."

Some friends said they knew the Heywoods were having financial trouble in recent years but never suspected they would take their own lives. The couple filed for bankruptcy in August 2009 and lost their Biltmore-area home to foreclosure about two years ago, court records show.

Mary Morrison, who was matron of honor at the Heywoods' wedding, said when the couple moved to the Kierland condo, Susan decorated it beautifully, but it wasn't their Biltmore-area home.

"Her exact words were, 'We're very humble,' " Morrison said.

Susan's declining health became a growing issue in recent years, according to Charlie Van Dyke, a longtime friend and co-worker at radio station KOY. Yet the Heywoods' passion never wavered, he said.

"They were very intense into each other," Van Dyke said.

Westmoreland recalled how the Heywoods were extraordinarily close. A few years ago, he had dinner with Heywood, who was doing some business in Sedona while his wife remained in Phoenix.

"He was almost like a lost little boy without her," Westmoreland said. "He had this sullen look on his face because he wasn't with Susan. He really needed her. She was part of his strength. This was a couple that just really belonged together."

 

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