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hen David W. Miller
sent out a birth announcement for his new son in October, it appeared
in the form of a mock press release and contained the wry
sense of humor all his friends had come to appreciate: "In
the face of widespread layoffs battering the U.S. economy, top executives
at Miller & Fee yesterday responded to the challenges of a globalized
market environment by abruptly expanding its staff 33 percent
or one person," it said. Then came a quote from "president
and CEO" David Miller: "We didn't expect to make this
hire until next month, but the candidate was very insistent and
made a big impression." In other words, the healthy baby had
arrived earlier than expected.
I made a mental
note that we would have to get our families together sometime after
the holidays. It had been too long.
On the night
of January 6, however, Miller was killed in a car crash heading
home from the Baltimore airport. He had just returned from Atlanta,
where he was covering a meeting of the American Economic Association
for The Chronicle of Higher Education. According to an account
in today's
Washington Post, an SUV crossed the median of the Baltimore-Washington
Parkway and struck the car in which Miller was riding. Three people,
including Miller, died in the accident.
Miller was
35, and leaves behind not only the son born in October, but also
another son, 2, and his wife, Colleen.
Many Washington
conservatives knew David (no relation to this author) because he
worked at the Heritage Foundation, where he was once managing editor
of Policy Review. "I remember him for his excellence
as an editor, writer, and reporter," says Adam Meyerson, head
of the Philanthropy Roundtable who was the longtime editor of the
magazine. "I remember him even more for his decency, professionalism,
and fairness to everybody he came into contact with. I cannot think
of a single instance in which he acted toward anyone a colleague,
an author, a printer with anything less than respect. This
is rare in any business, but it's especially rare in publishing."
Miller
who went by the name D. W. Miller in print eventually left
Policy Review and distinguished himself as a reporter for
the Chronicle. I started reading his work there mostly because
he was a friend, but kept on doing it because his excellent stories
were invariably interesting and a rich source of material. Two of
my own articles for National Review over the last 15 months
grew out of ideas generated by David's journalism.
Yet his friends
will remember him best not for his professional achievements, but
his accomplishments as a human being.
"David
was insatiably curious. You could have a conversation with him about
anything," remembers Joe Loconte, another former Policy
Review editor who is still at the Heritage Foundation. "There
was a warmth to him. He always wanted to make sure things were right
between you. Friendship came first."
"He was
an outstanding husband and father," adds Meyerson.
"David
had a great attention for detail, and he mixed it with a wonderful
sense of humor" says Sheila Moloney, a former Policy Review
editor who is now policy director of the Republican Study Committee.
"We once had a three-week debate over whether 'donut' or 'doughnut'
was the proper spelling. He would ask everyone who came into the
office for an opinion." (Miller preferred "doughnut.")
"He was
one of the most thoughtful and engaging editors I've ever worked
with. He had a wide range of interests and seemed to take a great
deal of pleasure in solving difficult problems and communicating
complex ideas to readers," recalls John Hood, president of
North Carolina's John Locke Foundation and a former Policy Review
columnist. "He always had words of encouragement and always
handled disagreements with grace. He was just a delightful person."
Miller was
a graduate of Princeton University, where helped found the Princeton
Sentinel, a conservative student newspaper, in 1987. He remained
an adviser to the students who followed him. "He was always
thoughtful and willing to help out," says National Review's
Ramesh Ponnuru, who edited the Sentinel in the early 1990s.
"He was
a good man. I consider myself blessed to have known him," says
Moloney.
So do we all.
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