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| Paperback cover of "Overdrive." |
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| William F. Buckley in his limousine, 1974. (Photo by Jill Krementz.) |
William F. Buckley Jr.’s 1983 book “Overdrive: A Personal
Documentary,” is a fascinating look inside Buckley’s day to day life. “Overdrive”
chronicles just a week in Buckley’s life. Specifically, it covers the events in
Buckley’s life from November 16, 1981 until November 23, 1981. And during that
week, Buckley packs in more than most people could do in a month. “Overdrive”
is a follow-up to Buckley’s 1971 book “Cruising Speed,” which followed a
similar formula as he chronicled a week in his life in 1970.
Politically, I am very liberal, and there are few areas in
which William F. Buckley and I share the same position. That being said, I find
Buckley to be a singularly fascinating person. Last year I read his son
Christopher’s book “Losing Mum and Pup,” which is a memoir about the deaths of
his parents. I was an admirer of Christopher Buckley’s political satire, but
“Losing Mum and Pup” blew me away. It’s a fantastic book, funny, warm, sad, and
touching all at the same time. As I read “Losing Mum and Pup” I said to myself,
“I have to find out more about William F. Buckley, because he sounds like an
amazing guy.” I had known of Buckley since I was a kid, even though I grew up
in a thoroughly Democratic household. I’m not sure exactly how I knew who
William F. Buckley was, but I grew up during the 1980’s, so it was probably
just osmosis.
Reading “Overdrive” gave me an appreciation for Buckley’s
intelligence and his personal integrity. Buckley had many friends who were
liberals, and the fact that they held different political opinions did not
affect their friendship. Buckley was tenaciously loyal to his friends, no
matter who they were. “Overdrive” also gave me an appreciation for Buckley’s
incredible energy and stamina. “Overdrive” takes place during the days just
before Buckley’s 56th birthday, yet his schedule would be taxing for
a man half his age. Buckley wrote a syndicated newspaper column three times a
week, hosted a weekly television show “Firing Line,” and was the editor of the
biweekly magazine “National Review.”
It seems peevish to wish for more details in a book that
covers just one week in pretty minute detail, but I do wish that Buckley would
have provided an hour-by-hour breakdown of his time. I’d like to know: when did
he get up? When did he go to bed? How long exactly did it take him to respond
to those five letters? How exactly did he allocate his time in order to make
the most out of it? In a 1978 interview, Buckley gave the answer to his productivity:
“Deadlines. I have deadlines for everything. I find them liberating.” Buckley
expounded a little more in a 1983 interview: “I had three deadlines this
weekend. And because they simply had to be done, they were done…The people I
pity are not the people who have deadlines, they’re the people who don’t have
deadlines.” That sounds easy enough, right?
It’s obvious from “Overdrive” that Buckley made the most of
every moment. Even during “down” time he is always working on something, even
if it’s just responding to his mail. And Buckley frequently responded to his
mail as he was being driven around in his limousine. This brings us to the
somewhat touchy subject of William F. Buckley’s limousine. In the Introduction
to the paperback edition of “Overdrive,” Buckley answered those who had
criticized the book. Excerpts from “Overdrive” appeared in “The New Yorker” in
January and February of 1983, and they caused something of a critical
firestorm. Critics were harsh on what they perceived to be Buckley’s
solipsistic attitude in penning such a book. Of course, a book written by anyone
covering a week in one’s own life is by its very definition solipsistic, but
there you go. When “Cruising Speed” was published in 1971, an interviewer asked
“Don’t you think it a bit much to write an entire book devoted to the events of
a single week?” Buckley’s tongue in cheek response was “I don’t know. John
Keats devoted an entire ode to a single Grecian urn.” (p.154) Upon publication
of “Overdrive” in August, 1983, the book encountered a frosty reception from
many book reviewers. As Buckley himself writes, “These critics were
uniformly…upset, might be the generic word to describe their emotions…They
found the book variously boring, boorish, presumptuous, vain, arrogant,
illiterate, solipsistic, and other things.” (Introductory epilogue, p.
xviii-xix) Critics were also upset at what they perceived to be Buckley’s delight
at his upper-class lifestyle. Nora Ephron, writing in “The New York Times,”
said “He has written a book about money.” (p.xix) Ephron then goes on to
criticize Buckley’s emphasis on his limousine, seeing it as emblematic of his
lifestyle. But Ephron had missed the point. “Overdrive” is not a book about
William Buckley’s money; it’s a book about William Buckley’s life. And yes,
William Buckley’s life might look very different from yours and mine. But, if
we’re reading a book written about a week in someone’s life, the type of people
who would write such a book will probably lead a very different life than you
and me. Yes, William F. Buckley had a customized limousine. William F. Buckley
was also a very successful writer and speaker who made a lot of money during
his life. Thus, his life will be quite different from most people’s lives. But
that is exactly why Buckley’s life is interesting to read about.
1981 was a perfect time for Buckley to write “Overdrive,” as
it was the first year of Ronald Reagan’s Presidential administration, and
Buckley was one of the people in the conservative movement most responsible for
Reagan’s ultimate rise to power. Reagan and Buckley were quite close, and that
makes “Overdrive” a little more interesting. Throughout “Overdrive” Buckley
shifts between the past and present, as something in the present invariably
brings back a memory. And while this style is very true to life, as many random
memories come our way during the course of a day, it sometimes makes
“Overdrive” a trifle challenging to read. More than a couple of times I had to
go back and double check myself as I wasn’t sure if an event was actually
happening in the present or if it was a past memory.
Buckley
begins Monday, November 16th, 1981, at his desk in his office, which
is a converted garage in his home in Stamford, Connecticut. The first few pages
of the book bring about reminiscences about buying the house with his wife Pat,
the pheasant he always sees on his lawn in the morning, and the desk he’s
working at, which he bought in Mexico in 1951 when he was working for the CIA.
(Buckley’s superior officer in the CIA was E. Howard Hunt, of Watergate
infamy.) By the time the reader first encounters Buckley at mid-day on Monday,
he has already written his newspaper column for the day. Buckley doesn’t go
into much detail about his newspaper columns, as he doesn’t even tell us what
his column that day was about. Buckley was able to write extremely quickly, and
could polish off a column in half an hour! However, Buckley claimed to not
enjoy writing. He compared himself to his fellow conservative columnist George
F. Will, who said “I wake in the morning and I ask myself: ‘Is this one of the
days I have to write a column?’ And if the answer is ‘Yes,’ I rise a happy
man.” (p.76) In contrast, Buckley writes, “I, on the other hand, wake neither
particularly happy nor unhappy, but to the extent that my mood is affected by
the question whether I need to write a column that morning, the impact of
Monday-Wednesday-Friday is definitely negative. Because I do not like to write,
for the simple reason that writing is extremely hard work, and I do not ‘like’
extremely hard work.” (p.76-7) This coming from a man who often produced 350,000 words a year for publication,
a man who wrote a newspaper column three times a week for 45 years, and who published
57 books during his lifetime! Methinks he doth protest too much.
What exactly did Buckley’s week chronicled in “Overdrive” look
like? Here are thumbnail sketches of WFB’s activities for each of the days he
covers:
Monday-Buckley writes his column at home in Stamford, then
goes into New York City, in his limo. Goes to “National Review” offices, meets
with editors. Hears classical pianist Rosalyn Tureck at Carnegie Hall.
Tuesday-up early to fly to St. Petersburg (Florida, NOT
Russia) for a lunchtime lecture. Flies back to New York City for a benefit for the
New York City Ballet. After the ballet, goes to the home of Ahmet Ertegun, the
President of Atlantic Records.
Wednesday-Writes his column early. Lunch with his sister
Priscilla, who works for “National Review.” Attends an 8-hour theater
performance of Charles Dickens’ “Nicholas Nickleby,” with Ron Reagan, the
President’s son. Buckley writes of the play, “Surely the most captivating
theatrical experience I’ve ever had.” (p.98)
Thursday-Prepares remarks for a 20-minute speech at the
Waldorf. Writes a letter to Ronald Reagan. Accepts offer to act as host of
American showing of miniseries “Brideshead Revisited.” Gives speech at the
Waldorf, and then flies to Toledo, Ohio to give another speech at a dinner for
the Friends of the University of Toledo Libraries. Writes his Friday column
late Thursday night before going to bed.
Friday-Flies to Louisville, Kentucky, to tape two episodes
of “Firing Line.” Writes the introductions for his guests on “Firing Line,”
which he finds to be the most difficult of the many things he does. The first
episode to be taped deals with the issue of busing to effect school
desegregation. Buckley admits that he doesn’t get the show off to a smooth
start, as he botches the names of scholars who have written reports on busing.
The rest of the show goes better. Between shows Buckley gets the message that
President Reagan was calling for him. Buckley calls the White House, but the
President is unavailable right now, but will be available in half an hour.
Buckley knows that won’t work, as he has another hour-long “Firing Line” to
tape, so he tells the White House he’ll call back in an hour. Such was the
power of William F. Buckley in 1981! The second episode of “Firing Line” features
John Y. Brown, then the Governor of Kentucky. The show goes well, although
Buckley writes “The effort to get him to intellectualize his point is not
working.” (p.149) After the show finishes taping, Buckley talks to President
Reagan on the phone. Buckley has tickets to fly back to New York City, but the
flight is canceled, so he must spend the night in Louisville.
Saturday-Flies back to New York City. WFB responds to more
letters. One of the highlights of “Overdrive” is reading Buckley’s responses to
the letters he receives. In letters to strangers, Buckley is usually very witty,
and with his friends he is very kind and generous. I greatly admire what a nice
person Buckley seemed to be; throughout “Overdrive” he exudes a kindness and
graciousness to all of his friends. Buckley is always quick to praise his
friends, which is an appealing trait. One thing that struck me as I revisited
some passages from the book is that for an American male born in the year 1925,
William F. Buckley was very much in touch with his emotions. Very early in the
book Buckley reprints the moving eulogy he delivered at his friend Harry
Elmlark’s funeral. Elmlark worked for Buckley’s newspaper syndicate, and
Buckley had worked closely with Elmlark for many years. Most of their working
relationship was over the telephone, and Buckley writes “When he called and you
were occupied, he would not call again. ‘I always know you’ll call me back,’ he
said to me once; and it is a sadness very nearly disabling to know that I
cannot call him back again.” (p.25) That’s a lovely thing to say about a
friend. Another great quote is from a letter that Buckley wrote to author Keith
Mano, who had dedicated a book to Buckley. “There is no way to thank you for
this, except to insist that you should know the measure of my gratitude, and to
accomplish that will require a lifetime.” (p.192-3) Another good friend of
Buckley’s, the British actor David Niven, is staying at their house for the
weekend. The Nivens and the Buckleys wintered in the same resort town in
Switzerland, which is how they became friends. Buckley writes of the problems
that Niven has been having controlling his voice lately, which a doctor has
told Niven is due to overwork. Sadly, the doctor was very wrong, and Niven’s
trouble controlling his voice was the first sign that he had ALS, also known as
Lou Gehrig’s disease, which would kill Niven in July, 1983, just before
“Overdrive” was published.
Sunday-Buckley starts the day by saying, “I rose early
because the day would be crowded.” (p.206) You know, as opposed to the other
days of the week he’s just described. Buckley answers more letters before Mass.
We learn that WFB didn’t care for the Vatican II reforms of the Catholic
Church. WFB visits his friend Tom Hume in the hospital. David Niven is in rare
form at lunch, doing many wonderful impersonations-no trouble with his voice
today. After lunch WFB’s son Christopher makes a surprise visit. At this time
Christopher was a speechwriter for Vice-President George H.W. Bush. WFB goads
Christopher into taking the boat out for a quick sail.
Monday-Halfway into writing his column, Vice-President Bush
calls WFB. Bush has to cancel his appearance at a fundraising lunch that day
for “National Review.” Bush cannot leave Washington because of a federal
government shutdown. WFB attends the “National Review” editorial conference.
Goes back to his apartment for lunch, Jeane Kirkpatrick, then US Ambassador to
the United Nations, is replacing Bush as the speaker. After the lunch, WFB
writes his “Notes and Asides” column for “National Review.” Works on the book
jacket cover for his forthcoming book about sailing, “Atlantic High.” Visits
his mother at her apartment. Has dinner with his “National Review” editors.
Goes to bed.
That’s quite a week. As I noted at the beginning of this
review, I’m impressed with William F. Buckley as a person, even when I don’t
agree with him. I’m impressed by Buckley’s obvious intelligence and his love
for the arts. Some of the most fun passages of “Overdrive” are Buckley writing
about the music of Bach. I’m also impressed by Buckley’s loyalty and devotion
to his friends. He always makes a point of mentioning his friends’ good
qualities, and he is generous in his praise of them without ever seeming
sycophantic. “Overdrive” is also a testament to how much Buckley enjoyed his
life. Throughout the week he doesn’t complain about being tired, or being frustrated
that he has to spend the night in Louisville. He seems to enjoy all of his
experiences, taking them as they come, and being happy that he is doing work he
enjoys while surrounded by family and friends. Who could ask for anything more?
