In Memoriam: William F. Buckley
Buckley, the host of "Firing Line," the founder of "The National Review" magazine, the author of countless columns and more than 50 books -- and the godfather of modern conservatism, has died. I can't say that I liked his magazine, TV show, or most of what he wrote -- but that doesn't mean that I didn't admire him.
Around January most years, I pledge myself again to the task of clearing out the clutter, to going through the garage, working my way through my study -- and each year I manage to clear out a couple of boxes before the task comes grindingly to a halt supplanted by other more pressing chores, obligations and assignments.
This year while working my way through some boxes that were more than ten years old, I came across a letter from William F. Buckley that I didn't recall owning.
The letter was a simple thank you. In the vaguest of terms Buckley wrote that he often received letters, that he couldn't reply to all of them, but that he just wanted to send me a thank you for mine.
& Then I recalled. I had written Buckley when his article that would become the basis for "In Search of Anti-Semitism" appeared. I had applauded him for publicly exposing Pat Buchanan's views, many of which I had come across in the process of researching Buchanan's many pronouncements in defense of the former Nazi Camp Guard John Demjanjuk.
Early in his career Buckley spoke out about the racism of the John Birch Society. And when he came to assess the writings of his National Review colleague Joe Sobran, comments made by Gore Vidal, and the writings of Pat Buchanan, Buckley found them Anti-Semitic. Buckley's public opinion allowed others, such as William Safire, to speak out.
I also recall Buckley explaining what he called "the dirty secret" of his professional life: that the columns he wrote and TV show he hosted were just advertising for his speaking gigs which is where he actually made money (Buckley gave around 70 speeches a year). The bad news of speaking so much, he said, was that he was forced to be away from home a great deal; but the good news was that it was on the plane that he wrote his novels.
Buckley was also one of the last great New York patricians. Like the late George Plimpton, and the late Norman Mailer, he was a literary fixture of the city -- a player -- of an intellectual variety which now seems all the more rare.
Around January most years, I pledge myself again to the task of clearing out the clutter, to going through the garage, working my way through my study -- and each year I manage to clear out a couple of boxes before the task comes grindingly to a halt supplanted by other more pressing chores, obligations and assignments.
This year while working my way through some boxes that were more than ten years old, I came across a letter from William F. Buckley that I didn't recall owning.
The letter was a simple thank you. In the vaguest of terms Buckley wrote that he often received letters, that he couldn't reply to all of them, but that he just wanted to send me a thank you for mine.
& Then I recalled. I had written Buckley when his article that would become the basis for "In Search of Anti-Semitism" appeared. I had applauded him for publicly exposing Pat Buchanan's views, many of which I had come across in the process of researching Buchanan's many pronouncements in defense of the former Nazi Camp Guard John Demjanjuk.
Early in his career Buckley spoke out about the racism of the John Birch Society. And when he came to assess the writings of his National Review colleague Joe Sobran, comments made by Gore Vidal, and the writings of Pat Buchanan, Buckley found them Anti-Semitic. Buckley's public opinion allowed others, such as William Safire, to speak out.
I also recall Buckley explaining what he called "the dirty secret" of his professional life: that the columns he wrote and TV show he hosted were just advertising for his speaking gigs which is where he actually made money (Buckley gave around 70 speeches a year). The bad news of speaking so much, he said, was that he was forced to be away from home a great deal; but the good news was that it was on the plane that he wrote his novels.
Buckley was also one of the last great New York patricians. Like the late George Plimpton, and the late Norman Mailer, he was a literary fixture of the city -- a player -- of an intellectual variety which now seems all the more rare.
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