- NYT’s David Brooks: Obama has ‘manhood problem’ in Middle East
- Ted Cruz thanks Obama for denying visas to terrorists
- Survivors recall chaos, fear in Everest avalanche
- General Mills apologizes for ‘right to sue’ confusion, reverses policy
- Dealer wanted in U.S. for art fraud nabbed in Spain
- Easter morning delivery for space station
- Boxer Rubin ‘Hurricane’ Carter dies at 76
- Probe could complicate Rick Perry’s prospects
- Ukraine, Russia trade blame for eastern shootout
- Obamas head to church on Easter morning
Women losing coverage under Obamacare, too
Topic - Bill Buckley
To millions of readers, he was William F. Buckley Jr.: book author, magazine publisher, televised debater. To me, he was Bill: friend, ally, trailblazer.
"Sex and God at Yale" is a title that just demands your attention. Sex sells, and when you plug God into the equation, the result is a Shakespearean human struggle played out on Yale's campus -- rightly described by the author as the "cradle of American presidents."
For many of us, it was a tale of two Bills. In the late 1960s, when I was hired by Bill Buckley to come to work for National Review, my first assignment was to do a cover profile of New York City Mayor John Lindsay. I was told to go talk to NR's publisher, Bill Rusher, who had intimate knowledge of New York politics.
Last weekend, I was given a hint as to how an erroneous idea is born and how it takes on a life of its own. I was at Yale University, as a guest of "The William F. Buckley Jr. Program at Yale." It is run by a group of extremely winning young Yale students who are all admirably conservative. Bill would approve. They all carried themselves like young ladies and young gentlemen. They were confident of their ideas and amused. One of their goals is to keep the name of William F. Buckley Jr. alive and a thorn in the side of Yale's smug liberal establishment.
It is a poignant and historic moment: Conservatives have paused to mourn the death of William A. Rusher, the editor of the National Review for 31 years and an intellectual and ideological stalwart who helped shape the movement for more than five decades. He died Saturday at 87.
Well, you're standing on the stage listening to Beverly Sills' mother coach the great soprano in Russian dialect, and somehow you wind up at a birthday party for her - the mother, that is - and eventually you get to know Beverly very well, to the point of lunching with and receiving correspondence from her, as well as various confidences, and so it goes, apparently, if you're Garry Wills.
William F. Buckley Jr. described his son Christopher as a man of "singular warmth and grace" and "tough gentility," qualities much in evidence in this intense, beautifully written and often achingly personal account of his relationship with his parents, who died within a year of each other.
In 1977, after the Nixon/Frost interviews — 28 hours of taped material edited down to four 90-minute sessions and seen on prime time television by more than 50 million viewers — Bill Buckley wrote: "It is probably inevitable that no matter how often one takes the pledge not to write again on the desolate and sad subject of Richard Nixon, it is bound to happen: again and again and again. . . . an endless succession of books."
Her set pieces are superb — the banquet at the Great Hall of the People, for instance, where the People's Liberation Army band played "Turkey in the Straw" and "Oh! Susanna" and a flushed Nixon toasted Communist functionaries individually, apparently fueled by a particularly potent variety of Chinese white lightning — a performance that caused Bill Buckley to write a brilliantly scathing critque of Nixon's behavior.