Today marks two years since the death of Rush Limbaugh. The day is burned into my memory. Not only was it Ash Wednesday that year; it was also the day a much-loved member of my extended family passed away. Conservatism — to say nothing of talk radio — has had a giant, Rush-shaped hole in it ever since.
I was a Rush listener from the beginning of my time as a politically aware individual, and probably before. When I appeared on Political Beats to discuss Electric Light Orchestra, I described how, when I was younger, I spent a lot of time driving with my dad: to and from track meets, friend’s houses, family events. We passed our time on such trips talking, of course, but in the background would always be either one of any number of classic-rock CDs in his car (from which came my love of ELO, and my music taste more generally), or whatever talk radio was on, ideally Rush (which was how I began forming my political views). When Rush wasn’t on in the car, he was on in the house, playing through a too-old stereo that preserved the AM-radio static crackle just below his mellifluous words. (Listening to Rush with a completely clear feed seemed wrong, somehow.)
The lifelong love of Rush stuck with me through my time at Hillsdale College, which proudly advertised on Rush’s show. During the school year, I would look forward to the end of exams and other trips home for all the obvious reasons, but also because of the award that awaited me on my drive (three to four hours, depending on how fast I went — and I sometimes went too fast). If the timing worked out, I could leave campus right around noon, just in time for Rush’s show. With his voice to keep me company, three hours would fly by; the trip would be almost over by the time I had to say goodbye.
What was it about the show that we “dittoheads,” as Rush lovingly called his fans (the jargon of the Rush Limbaugh Show was extensive), found so entertaining? Reflecting on all the hours I listened, I must note how good he was in front of the microphone. No one has ever done talk radio better, and I don’t think anyone ever will again. Rush simply owned the format, one that wouldn’t have existed without the repeal of the Fairness Doctrine; everyone who came after him owes something to him, in many cases directly. Just to hear the opening bassline of “My City Was Gone” by The Pretenders; to behold Rush’s boasts that his talent was “on loan from God” and that he was coming to us with half his brain tied behind his back, just to make it fair; to experience his loving callouts to Bo Snerdly and his rifling through papers with his “formerly nicotine-stained fingers” — all of this was to be in the presence of a master of his craft.
But Rush was more than an entertainer. He was a guide through the politics of the day. When he first emerged, he spoke to an audience that was already there, but that, in the early, post-Reagan days, did not quite have a champion. His conservatism, delivered plainly yet intelligently, was that of millions throughout the country. They were the people Pat Buchanan called “conservatives of the heart,” who “don’t read Adam Smith or Edmund Burke,” but “come from the same schoolyards and the same playgrounds and towns as we come from” and “share our beliefs and convictions, our hopes and our dreams.” Rush should be applauded for not just speaking to but also speaking for conservatives of the heart. It was not for nothing that National Review and Donald Trump alike recognized his greatness.
Recently, going through some old effects in my parents’ house, I discovered a copy of The Way Things Ought to Be, Rush’s first book. Reading through it, I was struck by how recognizable and relevant the conservatism it presented was. I was also struck by the hope present in it. 1992 was a dark time for conservatives, who believed (correctly) that Bill Clinton had just bamboozled Americans into voting for him. Even then, though, Rush was optimistic, believing that America was on the brink of a conservative restoration. (The final chapter: “The Last Word: We Are Winning.”) Two years later, he was proven right. We don’t have Rush with us today. But those of us who cherished our time with him ought to carry forth his spirit, in this and in whatever other respects we can manage.