On Safire

By MAUREEN DOWD
NYT

WASHINGTON

During the Clinton impeachment circus, I walked by William Safire’s lair.

He had an imposing office in “murderers’ row,” as he dubbed the hall where we worked, full of English antiques, Oriental rugs and a couple of old ties he kept for those rare moments when he needed one.

He was sitting in an armchair reading that bodice-ripping best seller, The Starr Report.

“There’s a word here I don’t know,” said The Times’s wordsmith. “What is a thong?”

(Original here.)