I think Kevin Williamson is one of the reasons I work at NR today. After he wrote a cover piece with the opening sentence, “Michael Brendan Dougherty is bitter,” it suddenly became irresistible to the perverse mind of Charles Cooke to bring me into the fold. The fights about nationalism and populism on the right weren’t going away, and we might as well have them inside the tent. One or two lunches later, and we pulled off the idea. To be honest, I liked the idea of coming in after that cover story, too. Maybe trying to disprove the accusation.
Five years later, and the other half is gone for the Dispatch. And this time, unlike last time, I suspect being gone will stick. Though I think the debate will continue.
Kevin has made some unforgettable contributions to National Review — including his reporting from Appalachia, the porn Oscars in Vegas, and his ahead-of-its-time essay “Laverne Cox Is Not a Woman.” I suppose, in providence, Kevin has put down so many torches, it takes a staff of us to pick them all up and keep running.