Remembering Bob Bartley.

A week ago, on Dec. 9, I was having lunch with two friends in a Washington, DC, restaurant, when the subject of Robert Bartley's recent absence from the pages of the Wall Street Journal came up in conversation. Bartley, who'd contributed a column every Monday, "Thinking Things Over," since stepping down as the paper's editor in 2002, had just received a well-deserved Presidential Medal of Freedom from George W. Bush earlier in the month. "I hear he may be sick," one of my companions said.

Bartley's premature death, at 66, was announced the next day.

It was characteristic of this journalistic icon, whose ideological ferocity was in stark contrast to his taciturn personal demeanor, that these two well-connected conservative writers had no idea how serious Bartley's illness was.

Although a longtime devotee of the Journal, and occasional contributor to the paper, I didn't meet Bartley until the mid-90s. Yet on the several occasions we had conversations, it was clear he was a remarkable and extraordinarily kind man. One time, at a book party for a former Journal editorial features editor, Max Boot, I took exception to a recent editorial that had entirely dismissed the 1960s counterculture. Bartley excused himself for a minute, ostensibly to get a cocktail, then mischievously introduced the author of the piece in question. "Now where were we," he said, with a broad grin. At the same event, upon meeting my wife, who has little interest in combative politics, Bartley, who had about 75 guests to greet, took the time to chat with her about their common taste in flowers and fiction.

One other time, in 1998, during an election-night gathering at his Brooklyn Heights home, he noticed that I was gloomily watching the returns on television, as Republicans fell one after another. Smiling, he simply said, "Why the long face, Mr. Smith? This is a party! Besides, I think the results will be more favorable in 2000."

There have been scores of tributes to the late editor in the past week, the vast majority written by men and women far more eloquent on the subject than myself. Seth Lipsky, for example, addressed his staff at the New York Sun on the day of his former boss' death. He began: "Since we live in a season of journalistic scandal, with great editors being toppled in newsroom revolts and the movies celebrating cases of journalistic fraud, I wanted to tell you a bit about [Bartley]. For those of you who are just starting out, you could, whatever your politics, have no better role model than the editor whose life has just ended."

Lipsky, an estimable editor in his own right, then recounted for his Sun colleagues a self-deprecating anecdote that revealed his great admiration for Bartley. He said that upon hearing the news of the 1981 assassination attempt on President Reagan, he returned to the Journal offices and "My reaction was?I am mortified to recall?to remark what a great story it was."

That didn't go over well. "Bartley greeted my remark with a look of disgust and pity. I could see that he was infuriated by the assassination attempt and devastated at the possibility that Reagan might die, literally trembling with emotion. Watching Bob across a small office in those desperate hours made me grasp that in permitting himself to become emotionally engaged he was?like the greatest editors in our history, Charles Dana, say, or Abraham Cahan or Henry Luce or Colonel McCormack?operating at a much higher plane of journalism than I had been with my cynical newsroom mentality."

Only the most crass left-wing critics of Bartley have intruded upon the grief of his family and Journal colleagues to cackle at his passing, and they needn't be acknowledged.

Slate's Jack Shafer, however, wrote an even-handed, respectful essay about Bartley's legacy, admitting he was a "conflicted fan of his work." Shafer balanced his view that Journal editorials often "tend to speed-metal their way past inconvenient facts, toppled straw men, and blame societal or political ills on the page's hobbyhorses," with a mention of his close friend Michael Kinsley's 2001 claim that the Journal's editorial page was "a central cog in the vast right-wing conspiracy," "irresponsible" and "intellectually dishonest."

After describing a few "shortcomings," Shafer concluded: "Bartley still deserves credit for revitalizing the editorial form. 'Journalistically, my proudest boast is that I've run the only editorial page in the country that actually sells newspapers,' he said in 2002, and he was absolutely right. Wherever editorial pages take a genuine stand on an issue instead of pondering the complexity of the world for 600 words before recommending further study, you have Bartley to thank. Wherever editorial pages report a story or break news, wherever editorials read as if they were written by a human voice instead of an institutional voice, you probably have Bartley to thank, too. And wherever an editorial page serves red meat instead of tapioca, no matter what the page's politics, its writers should pay royalties to the Bartley estate."

I think the vast number of influential journalists devoted to their friend (and often mentor)?including Paul Gigot, Dorothy Rabinowitz, Daniel Henninger, Max Boot, Susan Lee, John Fund, James Taranto, Seth Lipsky, Amity Shlaes, Tunku Varadarajan, Holman Jenkins Jr., to name just a very few?would agree that Shafer's obituary of the Journal legend was an honest appraisal that Mr. Bartley would have taken in stride.

Wasted Space

On the same day (Dec. 13) that the New York Times ran its 132nd Let's-Hope-Bush-Fails-in-Iraq editorial, complaining that the president still isn't playing by 43rd St. rules in denying France, Germany and Russia a part in rebuilding the occupied country, the paper also saw fit to comment upon another pressing topic: Mick Jagger's knighthood. (On Monday, the day after Saddam Hussein's capture, the paper still insisted it was vital that the impotent United Nations be charged with bringing democracy to Iraq.)

Reviving the ancient Beatles vs. Rolling Stones debate, the Times editorialist?perhaps even the same one who pens such drivel about Iraq, campaign finance reform and the courage of Teddy Kennedy?comes down on the side of the "cute" ones. Believing that honors bestowed by Queen Elizabeth (or her handlers) are still important, if diminished, the writer comes up with the remarkable conclusion that Jagger is now part of the establishment he once rebelled against. He or she must surely be a graduate of Columbia University's worthless journalism program.

Now hear this: "[I]t does provoke a certain sadness. There was a 'sir-ness' to Sir Paul McCartney long before it became official, an acknowledgement of how much music hall, as well as Beatle, there was in him. Even if there was never as much difference between the Beatles and Rolling Stones as we liked to believe [sap alert!], they at least stood for different tensions within rock 'n' roll: the difference between the rebellion implicit in a kind of musical ecstasy and rebellion as actual insurrection."

I have no idea why a silly honorific provokes a "certain sadness." Isn't it far more pathetic, considering that some elitists actually take awards seriously, that Jimmy Carter, an incompetent chief executive and even more disgraceful ex-president, received a Nobel Peace Prize? Besides, give Jagger credit for surviving this long, given that his chosen professional field has an actuarial table not much different than that of a third-world country.

A New Backbone?

I don't care much for the writing of David Brooks?his Bobos in Paradise was an abomination?and so I was disappointed, if hardly stunned, when he was anointed the heir apparent to the 73-year-old William Safire as the New York Times' token conservative op-ed columnist. (If publisher Arthur Sulzberger Jr. had a real desire to balance the idiocy of Maureen Dowd and Paul Krugman, he'd have hired the Boston Globe's Jeff Jacoby or the Weekly Standard's David Tell.) Safire told the New York Observer's George Gurley that he has no intention of retiring soon, but given the rude walking-the-plank exit of Russell Baker, I'm skeptical the ex-Nixon speechwriter will still have a Times slot a year from now.

Brooks is a squishy conservative, the kind that liberals will deign to break bread with. He supported John McCain in 2000, told Gurley he's not a supporter of Bush's tax cuts and believes the president is "intellectually insecure." I wouldn't be surprised if, when the 2008 election nears, Brooks completes his conversion and favors a moderate Democrat like Sen. Evan Bayh for president. In the course of his embarrassing interview with Gurley (who wrote, "Mr. Brooks has a cute, chipmunky quality and looks like he enjoys a midnight snack every now and then."), Brooks said of his Times job offer, "Has anybody ever said no to that question?"

Pass the Pepto, please, and make it a double.

Nevertheless, despite many abysmal columns, Brooks partially redeemed himself last Saturday with a light?very light?satire aimed at critics of the Bush administration's foreign policy.

He wrote: "I think we are all disgusted by the way George W. Bush's administration has allowed honesty and candor to seep into the genteel world of international affairs? The United Nations passed resolution after resolution condemning the government of Iraq, without committing the faux pas of actually enforcing them. The leaders of France and Germany announced their abhorrence of Saddam's regime, and expressed this abhorrence by doing as much business with Saddam as possible. Then came George W. Bush, the cowboy out of the West, and all good manners were discarded. The first sign of trouble came when the Bush administration declared its opposition to the Kyoto treaty. Up until that time, all decent governments had remained platonically in love with the treaty. They praised it, but gave no thought to actually enacting it. Bush said he would scuttle it and did?

"Sometimes you've got to be slippery to accomplish real good. The Bush administration is thus facing an insincerity crisis. It has become addicted to candor and forthrightness. It needs an immediate back-stabbing infusion. Perhaps Al Gore could be brought in to offer advice."

I'm under no illusion that Brooks has suddenly shed his wimpy, career-ahead-of-principles inner core?after all, who wouldn't want to be admired by both Michael Kinsley and Andrew Sullivan?but even the very occasional burst of sensibility appearing on the Times' op-ed page is reason enough to light at least one candle on his behalf.

Tampa Tantrums

I'm not about to gloat over the Bosox signing closer Keith Foulke?even if Boston enters the 2004 season as the team to beat on paper, something will keep the Curse alive?but for now, it's even more encouraging that George Steinbrenner may be leading the Yankees into some kind of abyss.

One of my oldest friends, a Yanks fan since we were first-graders, who was confident after the Marlins' Series victory that New York would emerge a far stronger club next year (immediately signing Andy Pettitte for example), sent the following email last weekend.

"Gen. Geo always was Capt. Queeg: he's just older and battier than ever. Here's my take on recent events on the Yonkle Funny Farm. Brian Cashman, despite the option pick-up, is history before Opening Day; Geo's attempt to make him the fall guy won't play. Joe T. is 50-50 to complete his final year?he may walk. Wild card: Either George is attacked by his heart or his son and son-in-law (who are watching Steinbrenner spend their inheritance on private suites and jets for Kevin Brown, etc.), may put out a contract on George?all of which will tie up the estate and freeze aggressive team improvement for a couple of years.

"Ultimately, George is going to drive the Yonkles off the road. I'd just like one more legitimate shot at a Series title?it's been such a long drought for us long-suffering Yonkle fans."

[MUG1988@aol.com](mailto:MUG1988@aol.com)