Spencer Dryden
Our local newspaper has a reader generated section
featuring a number of recurring themes. One of them is called "My Fifteen
Nanoseconds of Fame". The theme is stories about readers' chance encounters
with famous people. We Minnesotan's have a terrible inferiority complex so
whenever we meet a famous person, it's a big deal. Some years ago, I had an encounter with one
of my intellectual heroes, William F. Buckley. The story of our meeting made
the printed version of the "Best of the Bulletin Board". I retell it now for you amusement.
Back when I still wore suits and ties, I was in
Washington DC doing some promotional work for an insurance association. I had mistakenly
fallen into a leadership role which took a great deal of time I didn't have for
initiatives that never paid dividends, personally, professionally or for the
industry as a whole. With my business concluded, I took a cab to
Washington National Airport - this was long before 911- it's called Regan National now.
At that time, the boarding gates were arranged in a
semi-circle at the end of a long corridor.
Passengers from the half dozen gates
shared a common gathering area. As I awaited for my flight to be called, I
spotted William F. Buckley. I admired his writing and loved his old television
program, "Firing Line". This was back when there were small
"c" conservatives and William F. Buckley was the dean of that school
of thought. I couldn't help myself. I approached him like a groupie, realizing
that I could not offer one bit of wisdom to a man of his intellect. I simply
said 'hello' and told him I was a great admirer. He was very gracious. If you
remember how disheveled he looked on TV, you should have seen the real thing;
rumpled suit, little blood stains on his collar from a bad shave, yellow teeth, blood shot eyes,
threadbare overcoat and very blotchy skin. He looked like someone who I might
see pan panhandling on a street corner.
We exchanged a few pleasantries and I headed
back to my area.
Later, when boarding, I was stunned to see Buckley
being seated in first class. It was a non stop flight to Minneapolis. What on
earth would Buckley be doing heading to such liberal country?
From my seat among the lumpen proletariat I saw
Buckley reading a magazine. I wondered what it was. I assumed he simply knew
everything. What did Buckley need to read? Whatever it was, I wanted a
subscription.
When we arrived in Minneapolis, first class
passengers de-planed first, so I lost sight of him. With the world's smallest
bladder, I headed to the men's room immediately upon landing. Lo and behold who
is at the urinal next to me but William F. Buckley. We exchanged a friendly
acknowledgement. This time I asked him why he had come to Minnesota. Turns out
he was the guest of the very liberal Hubert Humphrey Institute. Imagine that,
liberals and conservatives used to be able to talk to each other.
We finished our business and went our separate ways.
But to this day it's my claim that I am the only person I know who won a
pissing contest with William F. Buckley.
