Life with Bill, Part IV
Revisiting William F. Buckley Jr.
Dear readers: This week marks the centennial of William F. Buckley Jr., born on November 24, 1925. On Sunday, I began a series, composed mainly of correspondence with WFB. Part I, here, opens with an introductory note. For Parts II and III, go here and here.
July 30, 2005:
Jay, I forgot to ask you: Do you have a doorman? I have sent you something that requires the signature of a recipient. It would arrive on Monday—I should have checked earlier. P.S. I probably should have sent it care of Carnegie Hall.
(I was doing a lot of reviewing in those days.)
***
It was a watch. In thanking Bill for it, I said that I had actually been thinking about getting another watch, and I explained to him why. And, lo, a watch showed up.
He answered,
Jay, that IS extraordinary! The coincidence, providential. You didn’t say whether you LIKED my watch. Please remind yourself I have no sense of involvement in the style of it and you are free to exchange it, or ... whatever.
***
On August 30, I sent Bill a longish letter, expounding on writing and editing. The occasion: Someone had criticized Bill’s sentences—Baroque and individual—and suggested “improvements”: blander, more conventional sentences. (Bill had drawn my attention to this.) I explained why the blandizer was wrong.
Bill began his answer to me,
GEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, I was glad to hear you say that!
(I had to count up all those E’s ...) (Nineteen.)
(If you care to hear my speech on bad editors who blandize and conventionalize—I can give it to you sometime.) (I occasionally “editor-proof” my articles by blandizing and conventionalizing them in advance.)
***
On September 12, I said that I had spent the weekend with my grandmother, who had liked my new watch, a lot.
Said Bill,
How nice!!!!! And nice of you to report it. I always thought your grandmother had SUPERB horological tastes!
***
On September 14, I sent him a note saying I would see him soon, and he ended his answer,
Will you be able to tell me what time it is??????????
(Ten question marks, nine fewer than the E’s.)
***
On September 19, Bill ended a note,
Why don’t you LOOK tired?
(One of his claims was that I did a lot—that I jumped from one activity to another.) (I think I kind of did.)
***
On September 23, I wrote him,
How’re you doing? Want to plot something? [That was borrowing from Bill’s own language. He’d say, “Let’s plot something.”] Go to an opera or concert or something? Drink an orange-ade?
An inside joke. Bill constantly—constantly—commented on my not drinking. (Not drinking alcohol.) It was a theme of our lives. He’d say things like, “What’ll you have, an orange-ade?” Not without irritation were these lines.
Anyway, Bill’s reply, I will leave in the raw:
Wouldlov enoth8ng more! LET MEWRESTLEWITH MY SCHEDULE. (caps ujnint ended)
***
September 24:
Whee!!!!!!!!!! I will be with you on Wednesday for Verdi. Where would you like to dine? Assuming it begins at 8, dine at 6:30? What’s attractive and within walking distance (I can’t walk far these days) of L/C?
That last stood for “Lincoln Center” (the arts campus in New York).
***
On October 2, The New York Times Magazine had Bill on its cover. This was an unusual, striking photo, by Platon (full name: Platon Antoniou). It showed Bill with his eyes closed, sort of battered.
I rather liked the photo, as well as the article, and said so to Bill. He replied,
From scattered mail, I gather everybody just looked at the death mask and didn’t read the article!
(The article was by Sam Tanenhaus, who was writing Bill’s authorized biography.)
I remember wincing when I read that: “death mask.”
***
On November 10, a post-concert note from Bill:
A memorable couple of hours, with music to enchant, and truly wonderful company. How grateful I am to you.
(Few have ever been as good at expressing gratitude as he.)
More of that, on the 18th:
Jay, your friendship—our closeness—means more to me than I can express.
***
In December, Bill and Pat were in the Bahamas for a while. I said to him,
I hope the water is sparkling, and that you are sparkling as well. Don’t forget to come back—the Caribbean is boring without Iggy Pop to socialize with.
He answered,
Iggy Pop! As I live and breathe! You continue to amaze me. Am crawling out of a deep flu, no appetite to swim, putting in a couple of hours every day beefing up my novel. And enjoying Reeves’s book on Reagan. Miss you. Will call instanter on arrival.
What novel Bill was beefing up, I’m not entirely sure. The book by Richard Reeves is President Reagan: The Triumph of Imagination.
And Iggy Pop? Well, he is a rock star, whom Bill once met on the isle of Mustique. He and Iggy got along like a house afire. Bill told me about this some years later—on the isle of Mustique, when the Buckleys and their party were passing through.
In a note back, I reminded him of this, and he said,
I remember that quite blissy trip. I bought that little piece of rock there that I gave you 3-4 years later!
True. I think the “little piece of rock” was a paperweight, with a Caribbean scene on it.
***
On December 30, I wrote,
Dear B.: On Mon. night—Jan. 2—I’m going to “The Elixir of Love” at the Met. Want to come, for at least part of?
He wrote,
Jay, so many thanks, but I am sick in bed!!!! Next time.
I said,
Bill, I’m so sorry about that. Anything I can do for you? Bring you something? Compose you a villanelle?
He said,
Ah! A villanelle! Only thing I have not tried. Will you be in NYC in the days ahead???
Me:
Yeah, I’ll be in N.Y. till the 23rd, when I go to Davos for a week. Hope you’re feeling better in ’06 (today) than you were in ’05 (yesterday).
(I see that I was writing on the afternoon of January 1.)
Him:
Dear Jay, I feel TERRIBLE. A combination of an eat-’em-alive flu and the exfoliation [I can’t make out the words here, owing to typos]. But I expect to be better and we’ll celebrate before the 23rd.
In a reply, I said that he ought to be patient with himself, and not worry about being “off the circuit” for a while. “The world can wait,” I said. “You’ve done enough for it anyway.”
He answered,
—and yet, who will be clever?????????? Thanks, pal.
***
I must have visited Bill on the 2nd or 3rd. I have a note from him on the 4th, saying,
Well, I woke up. Not exactly refreshed, but enduringly grateful to you.
A reply from me really surprises me. I have no memory of this. During our visit, Bill must have asked me what I wanted out of life, broadly speaking. In an e-mail, I jotted a little list (with commentary). This is an amazingly candid note.
As I think about it, I was unusually open—confessional—with Bill. This was true right from the start, when we had a long, long lunch at the Jefferson Hotel in Washington.
Anyway, Bill’s reply:
Jay, I wish with a sweep of my hand I could give you all of those things. We’ll have to leave that to the Lord, but we can remind Him from time to time. Your achievements are truly remarkable, and I am proud of you.
He was good, wasn’t he? Really good.
Thank you for joining me, everyone. I think I’ll let you alone tomorrow—Thanksgiving—and talk to you again on Friday. Happy, happy Thanksgiving.
Thank you: you're bringing him back to all of us.
Always enjoy your work, Jay. This week's series recalling your correspondence with WFB? The chef's kiss!