William Safire died today. He was 79.
Most grown-ups, defined here as the people who lived through Vietnam and the Nixon administration, will probably remember Safire as Nixon’s speechwriter, and later one of the few conservative voices to regularly write for the New York Times editorial page.
But I was too young for any of that. I met Safire in the pages of the New York Times Sunday magazine, in his column, “On Language.”
My parents loved “On Language,” so naturally I hated the column when I was first introduced. I thought he was curmudgeonly, and overly concerned with the obscure minutia of language.
In short, I was a moron.Safire cared deeply about the little words and trends of the English language not from the cold outside perspective of a linguist but from the practical viewpoint of a man who chose words for his career. His columns were witty and well-researched and interesting to any reader, but he did something more for the wanna-be writers of the world (it’s a club – we’ve got jackets.) He made us think constantly and critically about what we were writing, on a word-by-word basis. And ultimately, I think he made me a better writer.
It feels wrong somehow to honor Safire just for “On Language,” and I encourage everyone to read a much more thorough obituary (like this one from the New York Times) But when I remember Safire, I’ll remember Sunday mornings at my kitchen table, a full pot of coffee, and an old man I used to despise forcing me to rethink a phrase I’d heard hundreds of times before. I’ll miss “On Language,” and I’ll miss William Safire.
(image source: nytimes.com)
I’ve only ever known Safire through his column (and the occasional ancient Op-Ed.) It was usually what I turned to first in the Times magazine. All the obituaries today (by which I mean the one and a half that I’ve happened to read) seem to focus on Safire’s tenure under Nixon and his decades as a political force. Thanks, Spencer, for adding to the record this reminder that he was a presence in the lives of our generation as well.