Life with Bill, Part V
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. Succeeding parts are at the following links: II, III, IV.
February 13, 2006:
I have tickets for the Kerouac play Wednesday at 8 p.m. It lasts only one hour (rave review in the Saturday Times). Half of it is based on Kerouac’s performance on “Firing Line.” I would be delighted to take you, and propose dinner afterwards if you are game.
“Kerouac” would be Jack Kerouac, the Beat writer, of course. As for “It lasts only one hour”—Bill liked short, a lot. (So do I, now more than ever.) Firing Line, you know, was Bill’s public-affairs show.
As for that review in the New York Times, it said,
In his spot-on imitation of Mr. Buckley, Ben Williams captures every drawn-out vowel and self-satisfied smirk, while acting as the ringmaster of this circus.
Bill took Mike Potemra (my longtime friend and colleague) and me to the play. It was interesting to glance at Bill as he watched an actor play him onstage. I wondered, “What must that be like?”
When the play was over, we went backstage to meet the director and actors. They were not as impressed that Bill was there as I would have expected them to be, or wanted them to be.
Oh, well. (I enjoyed the experience, and I think Bill did too, pretty much.)
***
On February 21, Bill ended a note,
Should I buy a Charles Tomlinson Griffes (sp.?)? According to John Simon, I should. But JS is—odd.
Yes, John Simon was. (Brilliant too.) (As Bill would be the first to say.) By his question, Bill meant: Should I buy a recording of music by that composer? Yes, Griffes is worth hearing, worth knowing.
(And, yes, Bill got the spelling right, with the customary typo or two.)
***
On March 7, a typical Bill billet:
Jay, it gives me SUCH pleasure when I have contact with you, however glancing.
***
April 3:
Jay, I hadn’t yet selected a date to check with you, but is yours a comprehensive negative on St. Matthew???
Translation: “Are you sure you can’t go to any of the performances of the St. Matthew Passion [Bach] with me?”
Later on April 3:
Jay, I had an idea after my last St. Matthew, namely to go in at the half. The most splendid music lies ahead and plenty of it. What would you think of THAT? Or would that enrage you?
It was okay by me.
***
On April 11, I concluded a note to Bill as follows:
On a flight the other day, I sat next to a young businessman. He asked what I did, where I worked. When I told him, he said what a great fan of yours he was—in particular of your sailing books. He is a sailor, and he has taught his young children to sail. He went on and on.
Bill began his note back,
I’m sorry you left out the “on and on”!
***
On April 13, the morning after the St. Matthew Passion, Bill wrote,
It supplemented the joy to have you there. Though I was knocked out by the tempi. I know that music as well as I do “The Star-Spangled Banner” and cannot understand the musical motivation. But it is glorious, and the chorale after the death of Our Blessed Lord was in perfect tempo. Pat adores you.
***
April 15, the day before Easter:
Bless you, my friend. You have a lot to be grateful for this weekend. The Good Lord has been superabundantly generous in his endowments of you.
***
April 18:
Your commentary in The New Criterion absolutely blows me away. ... Will Lang Lang ever recover? Has Podles proposed to you?
I must have written negatively about Lang Lang, the Chinese pianist, and positively about Ewa Podleś, the Polish contralto.
***
On May 16, I wrote,
Dear Bill: Wanted to be sure you saw the below piece [a piece I pasted into the e-mail]. It’s by Mark Steyn, and was published in The Atlantic Monthly. It’s on Romano Mussolini—the subject of one of our favorite stories.
Nice seeing you last night. Do you sometimes feel that, if you didn’t have work to do, you’d go sort of nuts? I’m afraid I have felt that way. Or are you able to be serene without work?
Bill replied,
Have never been without work, so can’t answer! I know, but even on a sailboat, somehow it’s work. Will instantly read your enclosure. A bliss seeing you again last night.
***
On June 14, I concluded a note,
I wanted to share this with you: Last night, a pianist played Granados’s “Goyescas” (and quite badly, I’m afraid). I began my review this way: “You don’t have to be Alicia de Larrocha to play Spanish piano music, but it helps.”
Am off for a week in Michigan.
Bill, I should tell you, was a personal friend of de Larrocha’s.
He began his answer,
It was blissful to see you. And when you get back, we must make a date for a good visit. I know “Goyescas” well and, to tell you the truth, I do not like it. So I’m glad I was not there.
***
June 28:
You have got to be the warmest friend I ever had, but also—the most sentient. You knew I felt lousy and you did so kind a thing.
(No idea what that was.)
***
When Ed Capano retired as publisher of National Review, there was a farewell dinner for him, a tribute dinner. WFB, of course, made remarks. In anticipation of the next issue of the magazine, I wrote to Bill (on July 6),
And do you have anything written down, from what you said, that we could publish? Or was it totally ex temp?
He answered,
I did not write anything down, but I trust you to put words into my mouth.
(I did no such thing.)
***
On July 7, I wrote to Bill,
Have a swell weekend. I’ll be at my sister’s, in Greenport, LI (across from Shelter Island).
Bill answered,
Any chance of your stopping by at either end of your Shelter Island idyll???
That’s a good example of what WFB’s language was like: “Shelter Island idyll.”
***
The next month, I was going off to work at the Salzburg Festival, and Bill wrote,
Have a wonderful time and give music my love.
***
On August 29, I wrote him a note, saying several things, including that I was back from Salzburg. I also included an e-mail exchange between me and a law student who was a fan of Bill’s and had just read Stained Glass (one of WFB’s best novels).
Bill answered,
GRAND to hear you are back!!!!!!!!! Gosh, what a job you did on Salzburg. Comprehensive and beautiful and remarkably informed. How do you do it? And what a nice exchange with [the student in question]. Would like to meet him, if you can arrange it. Miss you dreadfully. Are you around???
***
Idomeneo at the Met one night was not too inspired—in fact, it was dull—and Bill left at the first intermission. (I stayed on as I was reviewing the performance.) The next morning, Bill wrote,
Well, last night established that I can prefer your company to Mozart’s. It was truly a fine hour with you, reminding me of the blessings of your friendship. I was astonished that I was not FAMILIAR with the music of the evening. But I loved the whole scene, the wonderful seats, the stunning staging. Thanks, pal.
Even after a letdown of an evening, Bill could effuse.
Have you had enough effusions for one day? See you for Part VI. And many thanks.