“Bill Buckley was multimedia before the term was commonly used,” writes James Rosen in the new issue of National Review magazine. “Savoring only one form of his vast output — just the syndicated columns, say, or just Firing Line, or just the Blackford Oakes spy novels — never conveyed the full measure of his multifaceted genius. Only by knowing how beautifully and amusingly he wrote could you truly appreciate his extemporaneous speaking ability, his command of viewers and situations, by turns allusive, pointed, and comic, never less than persuasive.”

Name a medium, and there stood the young WFB — photogenic and connected, ambitious and well financed — athwart the emerging technology, eager to harness it to the mid-century conservative movement he conceived and midwifed. It wasn’t just newspapers, TV, radio, lectures, debates, books — anthologies and original works — but record albums (e.g., A Birthday Party for National Review, released in 1961, or Buckley’s 1984 narration of Peter and the Wolf), PR stunts (think Schlesinger and the donkey), and even, most daring, an election.

Next year, beginning in January 2025, National Review and National Review Institute will inaugurate a year-long commemoration of the centennial of William F. Buckley Jr.’s birth. This special issue is our opening salvo in that effort.

WFB was a man who quite literally changed the world. That’s not an exaggeration. He changed the world because, over the course of the American century, he changed the United States.

As the editors of National Review write in the new issue:

“We are all worms,” said Winston Churchill, “but I do believe that I am a glow worm.” Let no one doubt that William F. Buckley Jr. belonged to the same species. Born in New York City on November 24, 1925, Buckley became by his mid twenties what people then still called a “public intellectual.” In a career that spanned seven decades, he wrote books and columns, hosted a talk show, founded a movement and associated institutions (including notably this magazine), ran for mayor, improved the politics and governance of his country — and still found time to play the harpsichord.

“To those around him,” the editors continue, “he was joie de vivre personified. In this issue, we commemorate the centennial of the great man’s birth. May he continue to serve as an object of the gratitude he exemplified and commended in life.”

In the new issue, you’ll find a spectacular special section with 14 essays on WFB at 100, including:

And of course, in every issue of National Review, you’ll find coverage of politics, the arts, and the world at large. Don’t miss the excellent essays by Andrew Stuttaford on the war on cars and Dominic Pino’s look at Elon Musk, Vivek Ramaswamy, and DOGE.

If you’re not an NR subscriber already, please consider becoming one — we’d love to have you join the NR family. You can find our special 50-percent-off subscription options here. I’d especially encourage you to select the print-and-digital bundle options, which is the single best way to support NR’s conservative journalism.