A native of New York — his early life was indeed the "damndest thing," and included going to his first day at Wesleyan College by cab — Husted landed in Colorado via Crested Butte, where he used up whatever trust fund he had on a bar. By 1983, he'd headed down to Denver, where he'd decided to try his hand at covering the suddenly booming entertainment scene. I met with him early on, offered some not-useful advice, and quickly became a fan and a friend. Meanwhile, Husted managed to create a career that started with $50 nightlife columns for the Rocky Mountain News and evolved into a full-time columnist gig there and then at the Denver Post; after he took the Post buyout (read his last column here..if you can), he wrote for the Denver Business Journal (read his interview with me here...if you can). Through it all, he also did regular TV and radio gigs as an on-the-town columnist and commenter.
Husted was a fan of cigars and great books and Key West and the correct pickles. He was obsessed with the electoral college, an odd interest for an entertainment columnist. He did not care so much about spelling. But he cared about his work, and he cared about this town.
He passed away this weekend after fighting cancer; he left behind many friends and so many stories — both published and private, shared only among those friends. One that belonged to both categories: In a column on holiday sightings on the slopes, Husted reported that Lee Marvin had been spotted at Aspen. It must have been a Christmas miracle, because Marvin had been dead for years.
Bill Husted during his last big night on the town, when he was inducted into the Denver Press Club Hall of Fame.
John Imbergamo
While his stories live on, Husted is gone.
It's the damndest thing.
More memories of Bill Husted:
From Lisa Whittaker: Bill was one of the all-time great characters of Denver. I met him when he was a waiter at Restaurante Boccalino in Cherry Creek in the early '80s. He was one of the best, most personable waiters there. However, if he was your waiter...your food took forever. The kitchen had it ready, but because he was always socializing (for too long) at all of his tables, the food did not arrive hot. Everybody loved him and nobody even cared because he was so fun.
After his restaurant gig, he worked as a newspaper society columnist. I worked for the pro sports teams in town. Bill would always call and ask me for scoop...knowing full well I could not give it to him. But he would continue to call over and over again. He was such a good guy I didn’t even mind. He never got any scoop and he knew he wouldn’t. I still loved when he called because he was such a character.
I really got to know Bill well because he went to my health club and we hung out at the outdoor pool together. He would show up every day in the summer and stay for hours. He never swam but had total command of his deck chair. First he would set up the chair in the exact same location. Next, he would attach this little clip-on umbrella that he brought from home. He would carry this yuppy canvas bag filled with so many books, a sandwich (which he snuck in) and a drink. He would literally stay all day...and show up the next day and do it all over again.
As social as Bill’s job required him to be, he really enjoyed his own time. His dog Madge, his fine cigars, his books, his walks in Cherry Creek and his close friends. I am grateful to have gotten to know him and lucky to call him a friend. I will miss him dearly.
From Bob Thompson: Sad to hear of Bill's passing. He was quite a character! Spent many a night roaming Cherry Creek in the early 2000s with Husted. Thought he might have a breakdown after Mel's closed! Bill had this well-known obsession with Olathe corn. So much so that the infamous "Cob Nob" was born and flourished for many years! RIP, my friend.
From Marty Jones: He was a damn good columnist and character, last of the greats in my book.
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