by Ray Keating
When William F. Buckley, Jr. passed away ten years ago, I was a weekly columnist with Newsday. Here is the column I wrote at the time.
Photo Courtesy of National Review Online
Life offers good
days and bad days. The key is to keep it all in proper perspective, and cherish
the many gifts from God.
But that’s not
always easy. Early last week, I had a couple of bad days. You know – expensive
car woes, career challenges, and so on. Then I heard on Wednesday morning that
William F. Buckley, Jr. had died. My own frustrations gave way to loss and
sadness.
Much can and has
been written in recent days about this witty, intellectual powerhouse who was
central to the modern-day conservative movement. Buckley started National
Review magazine, penned a syndicated newspaper column, wrote novels and
nonfiction books, hosted a television show, tweaked liberals, and did much more
in nearly six decades of public life.
Oh yes, and he
played an important role in defeating communism by laying the intellectual
groundwork for Ronald Reagan’s presidency.
In addition,
Buckley sailed the seas, ran for mayor of New York City in 1965 on the
Conservative Party line to the irritation of liberal Republican John Lindsay,
and even was a CIA agent for a brief time. How cool is all of that?
And he did it
with panache and obvious joy. Perhaps a small part of the reason I became a
conservative was because of Bill Buckley. I wanted to have as much
fun as that guy.
But two personal
encounters with Buckley revealed his charm and generosity.
The first time
was nearly 20 years ago. I just started writing a column for a very small,
now-long-forgotten New York City newspaper. Buckley was doing a lunchtime book
signing. So, I decided to ask this conservative luminary for advice. I slipped
a few of my columns in an envelope, and when it was my turn in line, nervously
handed Buckley the package, asking if he might take a look at my work. His face
lit up with a smile, and he declared, “I most certainly will.”
A couple of
weeks later, a letter arrived. Buckley graciously read through these early
rough columns, and offered some helpful, but gentle critiques. He added that
none of this should make me hesitate at the keyboard because I was making a
positive contribution. That note of encouragement was invaluable.
During
subsequent years, I joked with friends that my life would be complete if two
things happened. Jack Nicklaus said “nice round” after playing 18 holes of
golf, and Bill Buckley gave thumbs up to my writing.
Well, a couple
of years ago, I again saw Buckley at a New York City gathering, and introduced
myself. He responded with another smile and said: “Raymond Keating, I read your
work.” Without thinking, in a kind of haze of disbelief, I responded: “Oh, come
on.” But he reassured that was the case, and we enjoyed a nice conversation.
(No word from Nicklaus as yet.)
Those moments
with Buckley were good days for this conservative writer. They are memories to
be cherished.
But many others
have had similar experiences. For example, Matt Carolan, my onetime column
partner in these pages, worked for Buckley at National Review. Last week, Matt
noted many generous acts on Buckley’s part, and concluded: “Bill's Christian charity and welcoming
spirit, whether that be directed to employees, strangers or even political and
cultural opponents, were surely some of his greatest accomplishments.”
In my life and
so many others, Bill Buckley was a gift. Last Wednesday was a bad day for those
of us left on this celestial ball as we will miss William F. Buckley, Jr. But
Buckley, I have no doubt, is now enjoying paradise, and paradise is all the
more lively for his arrival.
