I lost a friend and patron - here is how I remember him

Bill Buckley’s Uncommon, Common Kindness 

I came to know Bill Buckley from an unusual perspective; I fell into taking care of Bill’s succession of computers, starting back in the olden days when CP/M, Kaypro computers, and Wordstar were Bill’s favorite tools. Over the course of a decade, I had the pleasure of spending many weekends with Bill in his study in Stamford. Bill would show me what he was working on, and how he wanted to be able to do it. A week later I would install some new gear or software and teach Bill how to use them.  And so it went, season after season. 

Bill’s study was a large, converted carriage house that overflowed with books and music, and stacks of papers. There were always clear zippered bags full of correspondence Bill had dictated, awaiting his signature. Bill sat in a slightly broken, high-backed swivel chair on casters. He would wheel from his huge C shaped partner’s desk across to his bank of computers, and whatever was then the fastest “letter quality” printer.  Bill would jam the luggable computer he had used in Switzerland to write his Bradford Oakes spy novels, next to his desktop computer, next to a precariously balanced laptop or two. When one of his Toshiba laptops took a drink of saltwater during a trans-Atlantic crossing, we got his writing back: In any event Bill’s enthusiasm would not have been dampened. 

Bill was NO conservative when it came to technology. Bill Buckley was a true multi-tasker. He was using a 9 window, multi-tasking, electronic desktop on his computer, years before Bill Gates shipped a useful version of Windows. WFB had his favorite Oxford English Dictionary on two CD-ROMs, a CIA Factbook CD and an Encyclopedia on CD, all accessible via a 5 CD jukebox attached to his PC. Yet Bill was not a follower of computer fashions. Dick Clurman interviewed him for Time magazine, and asked why Bill still used Wordstar, instead of a “modern word processor” like Microsoft Word. Bill characteristically replied “I’m told there are better programs, but I’m also told there are better alphabets.”

Bill was generous. He recommended me to Stephen Sondheim, Tom Wolfe, William Rusher, Werner Erhard and Leo Rosten: I am clear that what I learned in pursuit of making new technologies work for Bill, prepared me to work in Paul Allen’s research and development lab in Palo Alto. But as grateful as I am for the doors opened to me by the accident of becoming Bill’s computer guy, it was Bill’s everyday humanity and Grace that has contributed the most to my life. 

I would quietly pull open one of the huge carriage house doors, trying not to disturb Bill’s telephone call. Bill would leap to his feet, cover the phone with one hand, extend his other, and exclaim “My friend! Good to see you”. He did the same when Jose, his house handyman, entered his study after having a grandchild. Bill was in a lengthy conversation with Ronald Reagan’s Chief of Staff who had called to ask Bill for a favor. Bill asked the “caller” to hold for a minute. Bill then turned his attention to Jose, and asked in Spanish for the details of the newborn child’s weight and health. When Bill had fully listened to Jose’s proud report, Bill returned to the phone to ask the President’s Chief of Staff to hold for another minute. Bill went in search of some of his elegant cigars to hand to Jose. Only when he had taken care of his houseman, did Bill return to White House business. 

When I would work in his study on Sundays, Bill would often insist that I join him and Pat for supper. If I demurred, supper was brought to me on a plate with ice water in a crystal goblet. During the summer months my daughter, then 5 or 6, would be with me.  If I got stuck working out a difficult bug, she would get bored and fall asleep. Bill would pick her up and carry her across the lawn and into his music room where his wife Pat would baby sit. 

I used to exchange stories of Bill’s uncommon, common kindnesses with his driver, Jerry; and his cook, Julian; and his inestimable assistant, Frances Bronson.

When I had moved on to work in California, my father was diagnosed with cancer.  I sent Bill an e-mail. Bill was racing for an airplane, but he had his driver wait, so he could send a fax before he left the country.  Bill’s message was waiting for my father when he arrived at the Mayo Clinic. Bill promised to pray for my father. My father was both Jewish, and a Kennedy democrat; Bill, not so much.  Dad was deeply moved by Bill’s compassion.   

Bill, I thank for your challenges, for your kindnesses and for your Grace. 

May God Bless you and keep you.   Daniel Shurman, Cambridge MA.