19 August—Jim Buckley died yesterday a few months after his hundredth birthday. Probably best known as William F. Buckley Jr.’s older and better-looking brother, he was a U.S. Senator representing New York State, President of Radio Free Europe, and a judge on the U.S. Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia. As a Buckley born and bred, of course, Jim was a staunch conservative.

Jim lost his New York Senate seat to Daniel Patrick Moynihan in 1976. The Buckleys have had a considerable presence in Sharon, Connecticut, for some time, so Jim came back to Connecticut and in 1980 ran for the U.S. Senate seat being vacated by Democrat Abe Ribicoff. Many Republicans—as well as Democrats—mistakenly regarded Jim as a carpetbagger, so after he won the state Republican convention’s nomination he was primaried by I can’t remember whom.

That’s when I met him. Because I, having been done out of the Republican nomination for the old Sixth Congressional District, primaried the winner of the district convention. Short story long, I had had the nomination all to myself because I had convinced two other GOP Sixth District wannabes to drop out. It was rather fun. A state senator was all set to nominate me at the convention in Torrington and a local bank president was going to second. Fantastic!

Then, a couple of days before the convention, the Sixth district chairman asked me to meet him for lunch. After a delightful meal and meaningless political and social chitchat at the Yankee Pedlar, over dessert, “Paulie (he was Italian), you have very impressive credentials. But, I don’t know how to put this, the Sixth District just isn’t ready for a Jew.”

I was taken aback. “Uh, what about Abe Ribicoff?”

“That’s different. He’s state and a Democrat.”

“So whom are you proposing to run?”

“No idea. We don’t have anybody yet. We’re looking. All I know is it can’t be a Jew. Don’t feel bad.”

By the time I got around to calling my nominator (a gentile holding a state Senate seat previously occupied by a Jew, by the way), “Sorry, Paul, Nick Schaus, a good friend, just got back from a cruise (on his yacht, as it happens) and he has the fire in his belly.”

So I called the bank president to ask him to nominate rather than second. “Sorry, Paulie (he was Italian), word is out to fuck you and if I don’t fuck you they’ll fuck me.”

I was able to make other arrangements for the convention at the last minute and got an extended standing ovation after my speech. Nick, an insurance executive who wasn’t much of a public speaker and had nothing worth saying anyway, got some polite applause. Not that it mattered, to be sure.

Because Nick got the nomination. But I won the support of 43 percent of the convention delegates, despite the orders from State Central, which allowed me to primary without having to petition.

So Nick and I and Jim Buckley made the Republican rounds, sometimes together, always friendly, always positive. I spent $94 on my primary campaign, mostly on gas and postage. Nick spent over $20,000, lots of it on a Dale Carnegie course. No kidding. It worked.

That takes us to the primary. Nick won, I lost. By about the same margin as at the convention. And Nick went on to lose the general election to Toby Moffett, which had been part of my plan too. But that’s another story. And Jim Buckley lost the general to Christopher Dodd, who dutifully followed in his corrupt father’s footsteps.

The story about the primary, then, is that when I went to the firehouse to vote, one of Litchfield’s rich old farts with nine toes in the grave and a mansion as dilapidated as he was decrepit arrived at the same time. “Hello, uhh, Paul.”

“Morning, Stanley.”

Once inside, old Stanley asked one of the voting officials who was running and for what. “Well, there’s Rosenberg and Schaus for the House and Buckley for . . .”

“Rosenberg and Schaus? Can’t vote for them. They’re Jews. But Buckley’s gotta be one of us.”

In Nick Schaus’s defense, he wasn’t Jewish . . .