Michael Cromartie, by his wits and his Christian faith, created something out of nothing, what investor Peter Thiel calls going from 0 to 1. And he became an important and influential figure in Washington, though that wasn’t his aim.
It’s an unlikely story: a scholar at the Ethics and Public Policy Center who focused on evangelical Christians and other religious matters and became a teacher and friend of the press corps. Scores of reporters and columnists would learn from him how to talk and write knowledgeably about religion.
But let’s back up a bit. In the 1990s, Cromartie started getting phone calls at his think tank from befuddled media folks. The rise of the Christian right had aroused interest in evangelicals. Journalists knew practically nothing about the subject and called him. Cromartie, an evangelical himself, knew everything. More important, he was happy to help.
The result was Faith Angle Forum, twice-yearly gatherings in which 20 journalists would spend two days with religious scholars, theologians, preachers, and historians—from the right and left and not just Christians. Cromartie organized the whole thing, got the funding, lined up the speakers, invited the needy journalists, and got them to come to Key West and later Miami (that was the easy part). The sessions, which he moderated, continued until this year.
Mike died last week at 67. If you check the Internet, newspapers, or TV news, you’ll find eulogies from the platoons of journalists who knew and loved him and from many others. Mike didn’t push them to convert to Christianity but the power of his presence and joyfulness in his faith affected them. I suspect some did accept Christ as Savior under Mike’s influence, but I’m only guessing.
Mike was memorable like no one I’ve ever met. I knew him for more than 30 years. His wife Jenny teaches at Rivendell, a wonderful Christian school in Arlington, Virginia, not far from their home. She’s the favorite teacher of my grandchildren, who attend the school.
Mike was a great storyteller and loved basketball. (He was multifaceted.) These were not an insignificant part of his life. He told humorous stories about those early calls from journalists curious about evangelical Christians. The forums took up other religious subjects as well, from Mormons to Muslims.
He once spent an hour talking about evangelicals to a skeptical political writer. “Let’s cut to the real issue,” the writer said. “These people are sexually repressed, aren’t they?”
Mike’s response was as gentle as possible. As he later told Steve Hayward of Powerline: “I said they all have six kids. . . . The best-selling books in the evangelical Protestant community right now are books on sexuality in marriage and how to have a good fulfilling marriage . . . sexually. . . . I was hoping in the piece he’d quote me on that, but he didn’t.”
Another inquiry came from a reporter who asked about a discussion at the Southern Baptist convention involving men, women, and marriage. Mike began by referring to the book of Ephesians, only to be interrupted. What’s that book? Who’s the author? Who’s the publisher?
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Mike said. “It’s a letter from a man named the apostle Paul. It’s a letter to the Ephesians. It’s in a book called the New Testament, which follows the Old Testament.” Conversations like that sparked the creation of the forums.
Basketball is another story. Mike was a backup point guard at Covenant College in Georgia. After graduation he learned the Philadelphia 76ers were looking for a mascot. Mike assured them that “I can run around and I can dance.” He got the job.
But there was a problem. The Sixers often played on Tuesdays, when Mike also had a graduate-school class at American University in Washington. So he spilled the beans to his professor, who was sympathetic. “That’s a great excuse,” he told Mike. “We’ll get you the notes.” Mike made the games dressed as what he described to Hayward as “a chicken/roadrunner type of character.”
Pickup basketball games with men half his age were a temptation Mike couldn’t resist. He got knee surgery in hopes it would help his game. He also bought a basket that tossed the ball back after the shot. He put it in his driveway. He liked it so much he became the regional distributor for the device.
In an interview last year, Mike and Hayward discussed all the players on the great Sixers teams when Mike was the mascot. Mike knew all of them. When Hayward mentioned Lloyd Free, Mike, always looking to be helpful, corrected him.
“Lloyd B. Free,” he said.
Fred Barnes is an executive editor at The Weekly Standard
