Dear Mr. Buckley: November 16, my first visit to New York City

* Dear Mr. Buckley: November 16, my first visit to New York City. I landed at JFK around 1 P.M. and drove straight into Manhattan. First stop: NATIONAL REVIEW offices. Do you give tours? I sheepishly corrected the assumption that I am a subscriber: not currently, but was for many years starting around '73. A slow reader, with a wife and four young children, I was spending more time reading NR than I could afford and so had to quit. But I still love NR. I was welcomed warmly and given a tour by Messrs. Anthony Dick and Kevin Longstreet. They kindly ushered me into the Holy Place. It was reassuring to find everything consistent with all I had read about it: unpretentious and hospitable.

November 17, 7 P.M. My business meeting in New Jersey was over. So was my fantasy of getting a glimpse of your 80th birthday party, which started at 6. But later, as I was making good time on the drive to JFK, and reflecting on the kind Providence that had brought me to New York on this very day, I turned north to Manhattan again, parked, and put my jacket and tie back on. I entered the Pierre ballroom in time to hear your son, the very funny comic novelist, comment on the video in progress. I stood in the back and witnessed the rest of the program. When it was over, I was startled to hear "Steve, you made it!" from Mr. Dick, who, to my amazement, recognized me. Overwhelmed with the success of my endeavor and wishing to express my gratitude, I looked for you in the crowd and, mirabile dictu, spotted you in the lobby. But as you were about to cross my path it seemed to me you looked somehow desperate and I could not bear to take so much further advantage of your eleemosynary nature to stop you thus. So, I substituted "Happy Birthday, sir!" to which you turned in passing and thanked me. I then proceeded to the top of the Empire State Building, where I could recapture my soaring spirit.

I would like you to know some of the gratitude that I feel toward you, and the beneficent influence you have had on me--you yourself and you as synechdoche for NR. And since you can now read this at your leisure, I will say a bit more than I would have said in the context of your party. The thing I had planned to say is that one of my family's Christmas traditions is to read your sister's articles to our children from an old, wrinkled copy of NR. One day I mean to read her book. I am currently rereading (for the past six months) Erik von Kuehnelt-Leddihn's Intelligent American's Guide to Europe. Somewhere in my home there is a spiral-notebook compilation of your peculiar vocabulary words and definitions. Quite a few years ago, I determined to win Nika Hazelton's limerick contest, with two objectives in mind. One was the bottle of champagne. But I also devoted one of my five limericks, as provocative as I could devise, to goad you into explaining why you are Roman Catholic (I am a Calvinist Christian). I missed on the champagne, but you did answer my question in your recent book (whether or not my limerick was responsible). This question bothered me for many years; namely, how could a very well-read master of syllogism have failed to be persuaded by the Reformers? I have scrutinized your writings for any clue to this. Once, when Bill Allen (my favorite college professor) honored me by seating me with Rich Lowry during Allen's U.S. Senate campaign, I unwisely pumped him for some insights (which I perceived he did not appreciate). While your book's answer was not fully satisfying (love would see the difference removed, as when you and your sister "baptized" your houseguest), I eventually saw that it did answer the question why you are Catholic: because of all of the people you have loved and who have loved you. This is consistent with Proverbs' teaching that love is the most effective persuasion, far more persuasive than syllogisms. But it did not answer the question, or analyze (so far as I recall) whose syllogisms, per se, you find more compelling, or which ones you find defective. That almost happened in a Firing Line exchange with R. C. Sproul; but at the crucial moment when the matter of justification by faith alone arose, (alas!) Mr. Kinsley interrupted, and it was never resumed. Unlike baptism, or your Jesuit's syllogism, or to which Christian church you belong, this is a life-or-death issue (see Rom. 3:28; 10:1-4). After so many years I remain in suspense. To resolve which I gladly would have doused you as you passed by! And, while I am likewise certain that happiness will reign in heaven, that woman's bliss may begin with weeping, at finding her beloved pet absent. But how many more tears must the Lord wipe from my face, should I find you absent (Is. 25:8)! In this world, so badly broken through deception, what a tragedy that even love and truth can be at cross purposes. However, I am quite hopeful that your love, gift for friendship, and pursuit of truth on many fronts, which I rejoiced to hear attested at your party, are exactly what they seem to be: the fruits of genuine faith in Christ. Therefore I anticipate having innumerable, heavenly conversations with you, since Providence has not afforded me such a luxury on earth. But it has afforded me many joys through you and NATIONAL REVIEW, for which I am profoundly grateful. My thanks to you all, particularly to Messrs. Dick and Longstreet. Again, "Happy Birthday, sir!"