America’s greatest living right winger is dead. Though much of what Buckley wrote is pretty hard to take, even at times hard to excuse, he was a thoughtful writer who I think believed everything he wrote and, more importantly, didn’t mind others not believing one word of it. He was a fine writer and something only one or two of today’s more prominent hard rightists are — a gentleman. Moreover, he seems to be held in high regard by nearly everyone half sane or half decent who he met, nearly as many of them liberal as conservative. Which explains why relations were reportedly strained with Norman Podhoretz and some others of today’s far right on a National Review cruise last year when he dared to opine that the war in Iraq wasn’t exactly turning out to be a great thing.

And, of course, as we all know, he smoked dope on his yacht (outside the 3-mile limit) and hung out with lefties (not necessarily at the same time). The man knew how to live, and his writer son Christopher noted, he may have died with his boots on, so to speak, working on another entirely wrong headed but interesting, column.

He was a man of taste, at least some of the time, and my fondest memories were his introductions and post-show discussion following the original broadcast of the TV Brideshead Revisited way back when. (Evelyn Waugh’s novel is as casually right wing as many more modern novels are casually leftist.) On the other hand, that taste could obviously break down when confronted with the shock of the relatively new. As per the AP, here’s what Bill had to say about the musical of those dangerous ragamuffins, the Beatles:

“so unbelievably horrible, so appallingly unmusical, so dogmatically insensitive to the magic of the art, that they qualify as crowned heads of antimusic.”

I wonder if he still felt that way after a doobie herbal jazz cigarette?

******

There’s a ton of great stuff to read about the man online. Today’s NYT obituary is unusually thoughtful, lengthy, and definitely worth a read, and this shorter one from the AP (thanks Zayne). Historian/liberal blogger Rick Pearlstein has a touching (if typo-filled — [Update: not that I’m anyone to talk! I just added one important missing word above.]) remembrance of the old Tory. (H/T Jane Hamsher) And, from the National Review itself, which is holding a kind of online wake, comes the memories of his final debate opponent, Mario Cuomo.

Here in liberal cinephile land, the recently self-outed Brian Doan beat me to the punch on this and has some very good stuff to say. (But if George Will and David Brooks are two of the most idiotic voices of the right — what are we to make of these people? Intriguingly, no mention only an extremely brief post acknowledging Buckley’s passing. They’re Podhoretz-heads all the way, I guess. Figures.)

And since I say I love spy stuff, maybe it’s time to read one of those Blackford Oakes novels…sex with the queen of England? Kinky, but definitely conservative.

UPDATE: Jacob Heilbrunn offers a possible reason for Dirty Harry’s loss for words.