An Affectionate Farewell to Alfred Kohlberg

Two months ago in New York, representatives of the anti-Communist community gathered to pay honor to Alfred Kohlberg, 73, who by common consent had done more than any other single man to keep alive the cause of a free China. From all over the world messages of appreciation and admiration came in, and the small, mild-mannered, self-effacing businessman received the tributes of Chiang Kai-shek, Syngman Rhee, Herbert Hoover, Douglas MacArthur, Richard Nixon, to name only a few. His sudden death last week imposes upon the cause he served a staggering setback, and on his friends, a sense of irretrievable loss. Those who knew him would probably agree that even on so solemn an occasion, Alfred Kohlberg would have been impatient with a conventional tribute, a conventional obituary, preferring instead an attempt at a reiteration of the ideals for which he fought so long and bravely, with reference to his role in that fight. Accordingly, we reproduce extracts from the remarks at the testimonial dinner for Alfred Kohlberg on January 26, 1960, by the editor of NATIONAL REVIEW.

How pleasant it would be to have an altogether frictionless evening, a surcease from work, a contented hour given over to celebrating the personal and public accomplishments of a brave man. But evenings which bring together spirited people moved by a common impulse— in this case, the impulse to save the people of China from total despair—cannot take that course, and probably should not. We seldom give ourselves over completely to serenity. I think of a great Christian prayer, serene, beatific, but before it is quite over, we find ourselves asking our Maker to be so thoughtful as to “cast into hell those evil spirits who roam through the world seeking the destruction of souls.” Amen. And anyway, to take no notice of the basic frictions which animate this kindly, dogged, energetic, modest, and intelligent man, would be to render an imperfect tribute to Alfred Kohlberg. He is one of the few men who would be bored to death by any evening given over exclusively to the recounting of his virtues and attainments. . . .

AK

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Alfred Kohlberg

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William F. Buckley Jr.

Two months ago in New York, representatives of the anti-Communist community gathered to pay honor to Alfred Kohlberg, 73, who by common consent had done more than any other single man to keep alive the cause of a free China. From all over the world messages of appreciation and admiration came in, and the small, mild-mannered, self-effacing businessman received the tributes of Chiang Kai-shek, Syngman Rhee, Herbert Hoover, Douglas MacArthur, Richard Nixon, to name only a few. His sudden death last week imposes upon the cause he served a staggering setback, and on his friends, a sense of irretrievable loss. Those who knew him would probably agree that even on so solemn an occasion, Alfred Kohlberg would have been impatient with a conventional tribute, a conventional obituary, preferring instead an attempt at a reiteration of the ideals for which he fought so long and bravely, with reference to his role in that fight. Accordingly, we reproduce extracts from the remarks at the testimonial dinner for Alfred Kohlberg on January 26, 1960, by the editor of NATIONAL REVIEW.

How pleasant it would be to have an altogether frictionless evening, a surcease from work, a contented hour given over to celebrating the personal and public accomplishments of a brave man. But evenings which bring together spirited people moved by a common impulse— in this case, the impulse to save the people of China from total despair—cannot take that course, and probably should not. We seldom give ourselves over completely to serenity. I think of a great Christian prayer, serene, beatific, but before it is quite over, we find ourselves asking our Maker to be so thoughtful as to “cast into hell those evil spirits who roam through the world seeking the destruction of souls.” Amen. And anyway, to take no notice of the basic frictions which animate this kindly, dogged, energetic, modest, and intelligent man, would be to render an imperfect tribute to Alfred Kohlberg. He is one of the few men who would be bored to death by any evening given over exclusively to the recounting of his virtues and attainments. . . .