Life with Bill, Part VII

Revisiting William F. Buckley Jr.

Photo by Marcel Eberle on Unsplash

Dear readers: In recent weeks, many of us have been marking the centennial of William F. Buckley Jr., who was born on November 24, 1925. Two Sundays ago, 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, V, VI.

Pat Buckley—Patricia Taylor Buckley, Bill’s wife—died on April 15, 2007. As I said earlier in this series, she merits a series of her own—and more.

On April 19, I wrote Bill,

Dear B.: Could I just have a word—you doing all right?

He answered,

Yes, pal, am okay, subject to respiratory problems. And Christo is with me. And we spend hours tidying up Pat’s businesses. Are you in town these days???

“Christo” refers to Christopher, the Buckleys’ son.

I answered,

I am indeed. Just crook your finger.

Bill answered,

Okay, finger crooked. Are you free for lunch tomorrow (Friday)? I will be writing my column (here in NYC) and would happily take you anywhere you like. Advise.

I said,

Absolutely. Let’s think of some place good. Confer in morning?

The next morning, he said,

UTTERLY SPLENDID. What would be especially fun—are you interested in going to Jake’s? My all-time super steak house? It is really worth it, but the inconvenience is that you would need to take the subway home, as I would be traveling from there to Wallacks Point. But I could pick you up (advise me where) at 12 p.m., and then we’d both go on to Jake’s, a 30-minute ride. Advise.

Jake’s is in the Bronx. I had never been there with Bill before. I had never been there with anyone. While we were in the restaurant, Bill pointed out the window toward an apartment building and said, “Rosalyn Tureck lived there.” (She was a famous pianist—who lived from 1913 to 2003—and was a friend of Bill’s.)

I thought Tureck would have lived ... in more affluent surroundings. I mentioned this to Bill. He said that she had very little money.

***

On April 25, I wrote to Bill,

I like what you did with Gerhart Niemeyer (and wife). He sounds like a neat guy.

Niemeyer was a political philosopher who lived from 1907 to 1997. Bill must have written something about him, in ’07. I can’t remember what it was. In any case, Bill said,

Am SO pleased you like. He was all that I say and you would have liked him so much. Always such a pleasure to hear anything from you.

***

On April 27, I wrote,

Dear Bill: How’s it going? I was just reading this morning, “Death is swallowed up in victory”—and it reminded me of you and Pat and me and everybody. Reminded me of the truth, which is always a nice thing!

Hope you are keeping yourself comfortable, and being *good* to yourself. Pampering yourself, even. Lots of peanut butter, coffee ice cream, etc. Maybe a decent novel. Don’t let me hear that you aren’t being gentle and sweet to yourself!

(It is well known that Bill loved peanut butter. I think it is less well known that he loved coffee ice cream.)

Bill said,

I have had a WONDERFUL parade of family which goes on another four days. Richard Heanue, Pat’s closest friend, is coming for dinner Saturday. Could you come too, and spend overnight???

The record shows that I did (the record of e-mails). And, at dinner, I recommended the movie The Lives of Others, the masterpiece by Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck about East Germany, and the Stasi in particular. Bill soon saw it and devoted his column to it. I congratulated him on the column, to which he replied,

Oh, I am SO pleased you approved, especially since it was YOUR movie!! Let’s, when it comes out on disk, see it again together here??

***

There is a gap in our correspondence—well, many gaps. As I said in a previous installment, I am missing three whole years: 2000–02. Anyway, the next thing I have is from August 24 (2007):

Jay, I am terribly lonely without you and hate that we are in the same city and haven’t communed more often. Between thee and me, my illness is pretty incapacitating. ANYWAY, my point is, could you come for dinner on Wednesday? Aug. 29? I’d like you also to meet my new research assistant (a Ph.D.!), if I can get him to stay over that day. I can arrange to have Jerry bring you here and back home, just say the word!!

The new research assistant was Dr. Danilo Petranovich, and Jerry was Jerry Garvey, Bill’s longtime driver.

***

The record shows that I did go to Wallacks Point on August 29, along with my comrade Jack Fowler.

On the morning of the 29th, I wrote,

Dear Bill: Jack and I will take the train, because the traffic may be rough at that time. We’ll reach Stamford a little before 6, and take a cab to you.

He answered,

Dammit, you spurn my limo, but do you have to spurn my service from the train to Wallacks Point? Just tell me what time you are arriving and look for me or for Julian in a red mini-van on the eastbound tracks, where the taxis are.

Julian Booth was in the employ of the Buckleys for many years: as chef and general household manager.

***

Going through this correspondence has reminded me of something—well, many things, but one is this: In 2007, after Pat died, I spent a lot of time with Bill, and he was watching two television series—therefore, I was too. One was Band of Brothers, about World War II. And the other was The Sopranos, the mafia drama.

(I liked both series. I guess everyone did.)

There was a lot of listening to music, too—in concert halls and opera houses (if Bill could manage it physically) and simply over the “stereo,” to use an old-time term.

My friends, I thought I would conclude this series today, but that would make the current installment too long. So I will see you tomorrow. Great thanks to you.