Applied to Oswald Garrison Villard, the word “liberal” never carried a connotation of mildness or indecision. Instead it called up the image of a crusading reformer, animated by strong convictions and fierce indignations, moving in to battle against the many varieties of social and political sin with which his time was so heavily afflicted. He titled his autobiography Fighting Years, and it was an accurate summing up of his public career. His liberalism lay in his devotion to freedom; it included little tolerance for political or other views which differed basically from his own. He would never have disputed another man's right to disagree with him about peace or racial equality or free trade; but it was hard to persuade him that such contrary views were sincerely held or honestly advocated. To him they were simply wrong, and to harbor wrong opinions was at least circumstantial evidence of evil motives. I once heard a famous newspaper publisher say plaintively: “I never could persuade Mr. Villard that I really disbelieved in woman's suffrage; he always thought there was something corrupt about our opposition to it.” This attitude won him a reputation for pugnacity and self-righteousness. But it is to be noted that even those opponents who found him most exasperating always paid tribute to his sincerity and to his immense ability as a journalist.

The New York Evening Post, in the years Villard was owner and publisher, was a newspaper of insignificant circulation, by metropolitan standards. It played down or ignored sensational crimes and private scandals; it would have given the Yanks and Dodgers two sticks on the thirty-second page, if it had mentioned them at all. But it reported public affairs soberly, objectively, and at length, and when it set out to expose an unsavory political deal or to advocate a reform, its facts and the judgments it pronounced echoed in every newspaper and government office. Other liberal editors cribbed freely from the Post, only wishing they could go as far and write as plainly. But the paper suffered financial losses so great that finally, in 1918, Villard was forced to sell it. So far it has not been replaced, and most students of the press would probably agree that a journal which combined such rigid editorial standards and such outspoken views would have even less chance to succeed today.

After he sold the Post, it was chiefly through The Nation that Villard expressed his passion for justice and his hope of peace. Here he was able to speak even more freely. Between the end of World War I and the start of the Roosevelt era, when he retired as editor, Villard made this journal the most effective crusading organ of its time. Whatever The Nation has accomplished in the years that have followed has taken direction and pattern from his editorship. As one whose stretch of duty has spanned the whole period, I can testify to a continuity of which some of my colleagues may be less aware. Mr. Villard himself might have questioned this, since the disagreements that caused him to stop writing for The Nation in 1940 shadowed his feeling for the paper from then on. His break with The Nation grew out of his uncompromising pacifism. He attacked our stand on collective security, dating from Japan's invasion of China in the '30's, and our opposition to the arms embargo as it affected Spain and later the Western nations in their resistance to fascist aggression. And finally he opposed our support of military training and aid to the Allies. He firmly believed that even fascism must be overcome by peaceful means. But the spirit of a journal is something apart from its specific beliefs, even if he would have disputed it, and the spirit that made Villard's Nation the able defender of Irish freedom, the stout opponent of American imperialism in Latin America, the advocate of diplomatic relations with Soviet Russia, and of a peace based on justice; that led the fight for TVA and against the power of the big utilities, supported the campaign of “Old” Bob La Follette for the Presidency, and called for a new-deal program before F. D. R. was even in the Capitol in Albany—this spirit has remained to inspire new crusades on new issues.

It is in the best tradition of liberal journalism to cut loose from any tradition that would interfere with a bold, independent handling of contemporary affairs. That is what Villard did when he took over direction of The Nation and that is what his successors have tried to do since he gave up control. Thus even The Nation's differences with him have been part of the legacy he left; a paper once edited by Villard would do him poor honor if it aimed chiefly to agree with him. But its agreements are more fundamental and comprehensive than its differences, and in the years to come this journal will continue to express in its own way the courage and the passion for decency in human relations that comprised the journalistic faith of Oswald Garrison Villard.