Memory from His Final NR Cruise
It was with a profound sense of loss and sadness that I read of William F. Buckley's death on Wednesday morning.
I thought to myself, why such sorrow for someone I hardly knew personally? From the many condolences and thoughts that have poured forth the last three days the reason became clearer — still difficult to express, but clearer. It was his passion for right ideas, the English language, and freedom manifested in a defense of limited government and the free market. But it also was his personal qualities — his intellect, energy, accomplishment, grace, humility, wit, generosity, and his ability to make friends and be a friend, the latter of which were legendary. It is rare indeed for all of those qualities to exist in one person.
My first encounter with WFB was when I was about 12 years old (circa 1970). I walked into our living room on a Saturday afternoon while my dad was watching Firing Line, and there on the screen was this man with a clipboard and pen in his hands, rumpled hair, and a very narrow (early 1960's style) necktie, sort of cockeyed. [Remember, by 1970 ties had become very wide and garish.] I asked, "Who is that?" to which my dad replied, "That's William F. Buckley, the conservative columnist." I thought to myself, "Oh, so
that's how you can tell he's a conservative — he's wearing that really skinny tie." Well, I sat down and listened and started to understand what "conservative" really meant. Over the next formative years I read his column and watched some Firing Lines and learned a few big words and a lot of big ideas.
During my surgical residency in the mid- to late 1980's I would hurry home from Saturday morning conference and rounds to join my wife in watching — in Fred Friendly's terms — that "overeducated, overachieving swashbuckling dude sling poison arrows at his guests" on Firing Line. Then, almost 20 years ago, we started subscribing to National Review. We suspected it would be good, but what we didn't expect was the caliber of the writing on a wide range of topics, not merely on politics and economics. It became our guide to books, art, music, and film. Plus, it was very funny. This was all under the leadership of a remarkable editor who set the tone for the whole enterprise...he knew there was more to conservatism than politics and economics and he knew that humor was a key ingredient. Through the years I sent him an occasional letter about a topic of interest and he always replied (a common experience, from reading the tributes by other NR readers).
It was our privilege to sail with Mr. Buckley on what appears to have been his final NR cruise in November of 2006. We had settled in to our stateroom and when we walked out the door the only person in the hallway was WFB himself, in his yachting cap, lost and looking for his room. We were struck by how tall he was and, sadly, that he was looking old (he was 80). We pointed him in the right direction and then introduced ourselves. He introduced himself (as if that were necessary). The next morning, we tried to find open seats on the main level of the auditorium for the first panel discussion but none were to be had, so we walked upstairs to the balcony. WFB was sitting up there, saw us walk in, and motioned for us to come sit
with him. As he did so he said, "Come on up here...Chad." How did he remember my name from that brief introduction the evening before? We sat there with him and listened to the speakers and exchanged some remarks. It was like sitting with your dad. It was wonderful merely to be in his company.
We feel as if we have lost a close friend. My wife, Kim joins me in extending our condolences to Christopher, the entire Buckley family, and the National Review family for their loss. May the Lord give eternal rest to this great man.
Chad Davis, Indianapolis, Indiana
03/02 09:46 PM
