In Memoriam

In Memoriam

P. D. James, An Appreciation

By 12.1.14

Novelist and life peer P. D. James, since 1991 Baroness James of Holland Park, died peacefully at her Oxford, England home Thursday at 94. It’s fitting that she should leave us on Thanksgiving Day. Readers and friends of civilization everywhere have reason to be thankful for her long, productive, and well-examined life. And thankful for the literary riches she leaves behind.

Lady James’ chief claim to our attention and appreciation is her 18 elegant crime novels that have attracted millions of readers across the world from Cover Her Face in 1962 through Death Comes to Pemberly in 2011. Yes, I chose that adjective carefully. Mrs. James proved that crime fiction can be elegant. Also intelligent, insightful, and humorous. (Please excuse this American for using the civilian form of her name, titles in the U.K. having been greatly debased now that every superannuated rocker has Sir before his name.) Her stories not only make good reading, but good viewing as well. Eight of her novels have been made into television dramas.

In Memoriam

Nick Drake: The van Gogh of Music

By 11.26.14

Vincent van Gogh is one of the most renowned painters in the history of the world. His paintings are worth tens of millions of dollars. Unfortunately for van Gogh he would never live to see this good fortune. His renown would come only after his death by suicide. The life of van Gogh was one of full of suffering, and his gifts were not sufficient to alleviate that suffering.

In Memoriam

Mosheh (Son of Isadore) Twersky, R.I.P.

By 11.21.14

It is an axiom of long standing that Jewish blood is cheap. The moral equivalence displayed by President Obama in the wake of a brutal massacre of Jews in prayer — “Too many Jews have died; too many Palestinians have died” — is despicable but not surprising. What possible difference could there be between Jews murdered in a holy place during an act of religious devotion and suicidal homicidal maniacs turning themselves into human bombs to kill women and children?

One might have thought that when those Jews are American citizens their President would accord them respect. But even that hope for change was in vain. Three Americans and an Englishman were killed in the Anglo expat neighborhood of Har Nof in Jerusalem, but clearly that toll did not rank high enough to eclipse the formulaic pap — “Too many Jews have died; too many Palestinians have died.”

This dystopia of myopia is a murky place where decency, compassion, and ethical thinking come to drown. Sadly, we are beyond the point of being rattled by this snakiness.

In Memoriam

Death of a Hell-Destined Homophobe

By 9.10.14

S. Truett Cathy, Chick-fil-A founder, died Monday at age 93. With hard work, discipline, and dedication, he turned a single Atlanta diner into a popular restaurant chain and household name. He rose from poverty to riches.

Cathy opened his first restaurant in 1946, just after returning from serving his country in World War II. Today, Chick-fil-A has nearly 2,000 outlets in 39 states.

All along, the man was faithful to his business, his family, and his God. You would think that his life’s story would elicit nothing but praise. But if you think that, then you don’t live in modern America — that is, today’s fundamentally transformed America.

Cathy, you see, was a devout Christian, a Baptist, as is his son, Dan, who inherited the chain. They’re so faithful to their Biblical precepts that their many restaurants are closed on Sundays. That’s what they believe their Bible commends. The Cathy family has faith-based principles, and sticks to them.

In Memoriam

God and Dick Scaife

By 7.5.14

I was saddened to wake up the morning of July 4 and learn that Richard Mellon Scaife, Pittsburgh billionaire, conservative philanthropist extraordinaire, and spearhead of Hillary Clinton’s ominous “vast right-wing conspiracy,” died at age 82. How appropriate that this patriot bid goodbye on July 4. It’s fitting, too, that his death comes within a year of the deaths of his two principal lieutenants at his foundation, Dan McMichael and Dick Larry. Together, these three men established numerous conservative programs, institutions, and even individuals. They made a huge impact.

In Memoriam

A Great Tree Falls and an Era Passes

By 6.29.14

The death of the leader of a family clan marks the ending of an era. The big family clan –– held together by forceful personalities and connected across states and theologies and basketball rivalries and socioeconomic divides –– is rare anymore, but it is so important. One of the earliest condolences we received after the death of my husband’s older brother, J.B. Crouse, said, “A great tree has fallen.” I can think of no better description of how we feel as we mourn the loss of a great leader who is also –– first and foremost to us –– our dearly loved brother.

The shade of that big tree fell on all of us; that tree — a focal point in our whole extended family –– covered our lives and interactions with his personality, presence, and prayers.

In Memoriam

Long Live the People’s Poet

By 6.13.14

Cliff Richard had a rough week. On Wednesday, Morrissey cancelled his American tour in which Sir Cliff had secured the opening slot. A day earlier, Rik Mayall, who had played a Cliff Richard-loving student activist in The Young Ones—its title and theme song paying ironic homage to the British pop-star—died of a heart attack at 56 after a morning jog.

The uninitiated get a sense of Mayall’s humor by reading his autobiography, or at least the title: Bigger than Hitler, Better than Christ. The funnyman, in a coma for five days after a 1998 four-wheeling accident on Holy Thursday, often invoked the similarities between his and Christ’s resurrection for comedic effect—just as he crossed taboos to use the German anti-Christ to elicit laughs. 

Children of the ’80s knew Rik Mayall best as “Rick,” a pain-in-the-ass, high-strung, left-wing poseur in The Young Ones, which MTV picked up after its 12-episode BBC2 run.  

In Memoriam

Bob Welch, R.I.P.

By 6.11.14

When I learned that former major league pitcher Bob Welch had suddenly passed away of an apparent heart attack at the age of 57 the first person I thought of was our editor Wlady Pleszczynski.

Just over two years ago, I wrote an obituary for Bob Welch, the former Fleetwood Mac guitarist, after he took his own life. After I submitted it, I received an e-mail from Wlady. A lifelong Dodger fan, when he first saw the title of my e-mail he thought I was referring to the man who struck out Reggie Jackson to end Game 2 of the 1978 World Series. I assured Wlady that I wasn’t. Sadly, two years later, I can no longer make those assurances.

In Memoriam

My Friend Joe Shattan

By 6.9.14

Editor’s Note: Joseph Shattan, who died on Saturday, was a great friend to this magazine, writing for it since 1979. He also served his country as key speechwriter for everyone from Jeane Kirkpatrick at the UN, Elliott Abrams at the State Department, and Vice Presidents Quayle and Cheney, among others, including President George W. Bush. The kindest and most decent of men, he will be eternally missed.

Joe Shattan and I used to meet from time to time, chat, talk, finish each other’s sentences. It was like that; most lately, when he was at the Heritage Foundation, we usually met downstairs, went out to get a snack or two, went back into the building where he worked and took our snacks up to the roof and sat on deck chairs, ate, talked, drank coffee. A couple of aging Jewish guys eating and talking and enjoying each other’s thought, jokes, references. He had a lot of those; you learned a lot talking to Joe.

In Memoriam

Dead Poets Society

By 5.30.14

Maya Angelou, an author more revered than read, passed away at 86 on Wednesday. She is survived by her seven autobiographies.

In addition to Angelou playing Boswell to Angelou’s Johnson, Angelou acted, wrote poetry, danced, and sang. Was she an actress, poet, dancer, or singer? People liked her politics, and, out of ideological solidarity, reflexively praised her talents in multitudinous endeavors. At her most irresponsible, she embraced Fidel Castro, Malcolm X, and Bill Clinton—a mistake for a lady of any age.

“I’m not modest,” Angelou explained last year to the AP. “I have no modesty.” She got to know herself, apparently, after getting to know poetry and politics and songs and stage. She usurped her parents’ privilege by renaming herself after finding “Marguerite Johnson” not quite arresting enough. In this spirit, she insisted that others call her “Dr. Angelou” though she never obtained a college degree.