Pat Buckley, the arresting, original figure who illuminated the social and philanthropic spheres of New York for four decades, was born 100 years ago today. She was not just the wife of William F. Buckley Jr., the renaissance man of American conservatism — editor, broadcaster, novelist, wit, polemicist, bon viveur, one-time CIA agent, New York mayoral candidate, accomplished harpsichordist — and a devout Catholic. Pat was a force in her own right. Together, they made a formidable double act.
As Bob Colacello put it in a sparkling profile for Vanity Fair in December 2008, they were “a study in contrasts — Auntie Mame and the Absent-minded Professor, Pericles and Cleopatra — but those who knew them best understood how in tune they were mentally, morally, politically, and romantically.” They called each other “Ducky.” Colabello quoted from their good friend Henry Kissinger’s eulogy at Pat’s memorial in 2007: “Theirs was one of the great love stories of our time. The combination of Pat and Bill brought about a binary reaction that perhaps only a nuclear physicist could explain.”





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