What a grand life Bill Buckley had, doing what he loved, and being so good at it. That’s what young Anthony Dick said to Buckley while serving as research assistant on a book on Goldwater.
He quickly corrected me. He did not love writing. He found it difficult, tedious, and increasingly painful. Nor had he ever loved politics, which was awash in sordidness and banality. He would rather be reading, or sailing, or visiting friends, or enjoying any of the other luxuries his wealth could have afforded.
No. He worked out of a sense of duty, Buckley said, to repay for all the beauty he had received and to “resist the totalizing designs” of the folks who want to ratchet up the power of politics.
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