Thursday, January 26, 2023

Victor Navasky



Victor Navasky has died at the age of 90.

Few people had greater influence over my career or the careers of countless other progressive journalists than Victor. To me, he was a kindly father figure — even though he was only 15 years my senior — plus a mentor, a friend, a supporter, and a fellow conspirator.

He conspired with me and many, many others to value what truly matters in life — not just careers and ideas and politics and the affairs of state — but children, families, friendships, humor and our common decency as fellow human beings in a messed-up world.

Victor was editor and publisher of The Nation for a long time. In the 1980s he invited me onto the magazine’s editorial board, where I stayed for 30 years. 

Victor always seemed curious about everyone and everything. Once when he was visiting the Bay Area and arrived at a reception at the home of a mutual friend, Victor spied a copy of a home-made “magazine” with an article written by my oldest daughter, Laila, then aged 11.

The article in question was an interview with the legendary left-wing muckraker Jessica Mitford. Victor asked if I could get him a copy and before long, Laila’s interview had been reprinted in The Nation.

He told me that made her the youngest author in the history of the magazine, which has been around since 1865. Years later, Victor would often recount his conversation with Laila when he purchased her interview. Apparently, she tried to convince him that the voting age should be lowered so that kids as young as her could vote for president.

He got a kick out of that. “Write us an article,” he urged her.

In Manhattan, Victor and I usually met for breakfast at one of his favorite places around Gramercy Park. Out here we went to places like the Fog City Diner or the Faculty Club at U-C, Berkeley. I sent a stream of writers, stories and ideas his way and he introduced me to, well, the whole world of east coast progressivism.

We’d talk business, politics. but also at length about our families and our shared dreams for our children. He was a devoted husband and father. 

To me, Victor was the consummate New York gentleman as well as a wise old owl. There was always this certain twinkle in his eye. 

As for the editorial board, he never talked much in meetings; he’d just introduce a guest or two, and then sit back to enjoy our debates.

Over the years, he introduced me to an amazing array of authors, editors and intellectuals. When I was out with him in New York, it often seemed that he knew just about everybody in town.

Much more importantly, they all knew him back, and as far as I could tell, just about everybody who knew Victor loved Victor. 

I know I did.

He may be gone but his twinkle remains. 

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