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But the McCarthy era has receded, the radical right is at least temporarily in eclipse, and people are worried about the violence-prone New Left. Buckley does not seem as menacing as he once did. Today, he can truthfully say that some of his best friends are liberals. Namely, Galbraith, Columnist Murray Kempton, Norman Mailer and Steve Allen, whom Buckley once introduced on Firing Line prior to a debate on capital punishment: "My own thinking on the subject is confused, which, come to think of it, should make Steve Allen feel quite at home." Some people have a sneaking suspicion, in fact, that Buckley prefers the company of liberals, who, even if they disagree with him, talk his language. Buckley once went skiing with Galbraith, whose Keynesian economics is anathema to him. Noting the economist's awkward form on the slopes, Buckley asked him how long he had been skiing. "Thirty years," replied Galbraith. "Mmm," said Buckley, "the same length of time you've been studying economics."
Matter of Course. To their surprise, some of those who resent his arrogant manners on TV find Buckley ingratiating in private. To Clare Boothe Luce, who knows him well, he is "that rare thing: a very opinionated man who listens very courteously to the other fellow." Uninitiates, who tend to approach him socially with the wariness of a bunny facing a boa constrictor, are often pleasantly relieved when they are not swallowed whole. Buckley punctuates his conversation with the phrase "That was fun," or "That was great fun." His ready smile exposes what he calls a "disconcerting sea of teeth." For an ideologue, he has more than a passing fancy for the luxuries of life, often piles his wife Patricia and their only child, Christopher, 15, into their 40-ft. yawl, where they embark on a four-course French meal served at sea.
Buckley is in vogue as never before. He is asked to write nonideological articles for nonconservative publications. He has just finished a piece for Esquire on Truman Capote's masked ball, to which he was invited as a matter of course. He and Pat appeared on the cover of a recent issue of Town & Country. His letters are printed wherever he chooses to write them. After the London Observer ran an article declaring that the U.S. had become the center of homosexual activity, it printed a Buckley letter suggesting that the reason might be the "brain drain." This month Buckley starts teaching a course at Manhattan's New School for Social Research on the relevance of conservative principles to urban problems.
He stands in grave danger, in fact, of being adopted by the liberal establishment he deplores. On Firing Line, Richard Goodwin, a former speechwriter for Presidents Kennedy and Johnson, gave Buckley the stamp of approval of the Great Society. "Any society, and particularly the Great Society," intoned Goodwin, "needs a responsible force on the right. I think that all of us are very glad that you are that force. It might have been somebody who is mean and sharp and nasty and unwilling to debate the issues. As long as you're there, it protects the civilities of discourse in a free society." Replied a startled Buckley: "I'm going to dissolve at this rate. I'm not used to being treated so kindly."