When I first wandered into The Weekly Standard I worked at the front desk and answered the phones. It gave me a window into who was genuinely kind (they do not make human beings nicer than Gary Bauer) and who was not (no reason to name names). Because I’d grown up as a political junkie, I recognized a lot of the people who called into the office—this was before email—and was starstruck by many of them. But the one who perplexed me most was Dusty Rhodes. The first time he called I couldn’t figure out for the life of me why one of the greatest professional wrestlers of all time wanted to talk to Bill Kristol.
I went and asked one of the grownups what was going on (I think it was John Podhoretz) and he explained to me that the Dusty Rhodes on the phone wasn’t the wrestler, but one of the giants of the conservative movement: a man who was one of Bill Buckley’s great partners, who had been, at various times, president, CEO, and chairman of the board at National Review. That Mr. Rhodes was someone who everyone even tangentially associated with conservative intellectual life ought to know and revere. I was sufficiently chastened that I resolved to better acquaint myself with Mr. Rhodes. Which I did, from afar.
So the news of Mr. Rhodes’ passing last week was a sadness. But it was also an occasion for many wonderful and deserved tributes from his colleagues and friends. I highly recommend all of them, especially the essays from Jack Fowler, Gary Bauer, and my boss, Bill Kristol.
Dusty Rhodes will be missed, even by those who never got the chance to know him.
