Hey, Georgie boy’s snappy retrospective of how a slightly pushy young lad from the sticks became the biggest goddamn Bow Tie the Beltway had ever seen—The pursuit of happiness is happiness—is not at all a bad read, informative and even touching at times, words I haven’t always used when discussing Mr. Will. I was particularly struck by George’s account of the manner in which he discovered the way he intended to spend—and in fact did spend—the rest of his life.
Soon thereafter [graduating from college], I did what a young man from central Illinois would naturally do: I took the train to New York City. Arriving in the splendor of Grand Central Terminal, I plunked down a nickel for a New York tabloid in order to see what was going on in Gotham. This purchase of a New York Post was a life-changing event because in it I found a column by Murray Kempton.
I do not remember what his subject was that day, but his subjects generally were of secondary importance to his style, which reflected his refined mind and his penchant for understated passion, mordantly expressed.
As an example of which, George provides the following, from a column Kempton wrote in 1956, covering President Eisenhower’s reelection campaign:
In Miami he had walked carefully by the harsher realities, speaking some 20 feet from an airport drinking fountain labeled “Colored” and saying that the condition it represented was more amenable to solution by the hearts of men than by laws, and complimenting Florida as “typical today of what is best in America,” a verdict which might seem to some contingent on finding out what happened to the Negro snatched from the Wildwood jail Sunday.
Well, thereupon hangs a tale, or, rather a reproof, because I must ask George what exactly it was that took down those “Colored” signs from drinking fountains across the South, if not the “hearts of men”? Well, it was the 1964 Civil Rights Act. And who opposed the 1964 Civil Rights Act? Well, it was, among others, George Will fave rave Ronald Reagan, who thought the 1964 law was not “socialism” but “communism”. Literally. In 1984, George helped Ronald Reagan prepare for his televised debate with Walter Mondale (because we did have television back then), and then wrote a glowing review of Ronnie’s performance, saying he came through “like a thoroughbred”. Once the story got out, George then wrote a 4,000-word essay, which reflected his refined mind and his penchant for understated passion, mordantly expressed, explaining why he hadn’t behaved like a goddamned asshole. You’re funny, George, you’re funny! You’re a funny man!
Afterwords
I haven’t always trashed George like this.
