We have been beset by mail from the heart-stricken who, after reading the Letters Column in the last issue, assume that Editor Frank Meyer has gone over to the enemy. Take heart. Our Mr. Frank Meyer of Woodstock, New York, is not the Mr. Frank Meyers of Newark, N.J., not even no kin. No, that’s not right: not even kin. For those who have no idea what we are talking about, having failed to read, or recall, the letter of Mr. Meyers in the last issue, we offer a special bargain: a copy of the said issue, with scatological marginalia by our Mr. Frank Meyer, for five dollars per copy. The supply is limited.
Most of our readers have received a letter, giving the embarrassing details of national review’s indigence, and many have generously responded. In that letter we promised to report, by April 1st, whether the prospects were good for our continuing publication. The time has come, and the answer is: we expect to survive. The phrase is cautious only out of necessity. Some of our readers are as dilatory as most of our writers, and make a mental resolve to contribute to the national review Fund Appeal which they redeem in their own good time, and God bless them for the thought, and doubly for the deed. If we can count on as many post-April 1 contributions as we had last year, and the year before, and there is no reason we can think of why we cannot, then we can say: we are with you, thanks to you, for another year.
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