The Ludwig von Mises Institute presents The Libertarian Tradition, an audio series with Jeff Rigenbach.
Roy Allen Childs, Jr. was born January 4, 1949 in Buffalo, New York.
Had he lived, he would have just turned 62 years old about a week ago.
He once told his close friend, Joan Kennedy Taylor, that he first became interested in political issues at the age of nine and by the time he entered high school in 1962, he had begun reading some of the classics of libertarian and individualist thought.
He continued to do so during the remainder of his years in high school.
He told Joan that he read Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead in 1965 and found it so disturbing in light of some of the religious ideas he had been taught that he burned his copy.
But, Joan recalled, in the early 1990s, shortly after Child's death, he recovered and went on to read Anthem and Atlas Shrugged.
He reported he was enthralled by Ludwig von Mises' Human Action the Christmas before
he was 17, that Rose Wilder Lane's Discovery of Freedom, more than any other book, made
him a libertarian, and that the two predominant intellectual influences on him during these
years were Ayn Rand and Leonard Reed of the Foundation for Economic Education.
After graduating from high school in 1966, Childs enrolled at the nearby State University
of New York at Buffalo, determined to earn a Ph.D. and get a job as a college or university
professor.
But during his freshman year, as Joan told the tale in the early 1990s, he became interested
in the teachings of Robert Lefebvre and his freedom school, and in 1967 he won one of
forty full-tuition scholarships to Lefebvre's comprehensive course.
Lafave had given his Freedom School, established in 1957, the summer before Atlas Shrugged
was published, a new name by this time.
It was now Rampart College, and Lafave was busily hiring faculty and making plans for
the school to become an accredited degree-granting four-year libertarian college, as soon as
all the necessary details were worked out.
Roy Childs made a big impression on Lefebvre and on his teachers and fellow students in
the comprehensive course that summer of 67.
Scarcely had the course been completed, then, as Joan recalled, the Rampart College Newsletter
announced a new Pine Tree Features Syndicate, which would distribute columns by writers
such as Murray Rothbard, F. A. Harper, the founder of the Institute for Humane Studies,
Robert Lefebvre, economist Hans Zenholz, and some graduates of the course, including R.A. Childs, Jr.
Columns of his were distributed by Pine Tree Features in 1967 and 1968, and in the spring of 1968,
Rampart Journal brought out his first published article, The Contradiction in Objectivism.
The contradiction Childs believed was bedeviling objectivism from within was essentially the same one Murray Rothbard had identified about a decade earlier.
If you followed Ayn Rand's arguments about the nature of government and individual rights to their logical conclusion,
you would have to conclude that the state was an illegitimate institution that should be abolished.
In other words, Ayn Rand, if she were as consistent as she always claimed to be, would be an anarchist.
At this point, Childs was 19 years old, just finishing up his sophomore year in college.
He quit college at the end of the spring 1968 term, however, to join the Rampart College
teaching staff as an assistant instructor.
He even packed up and moved to Larkspur, Colorado.
But within a few months of his arrival, the entire Freedom School enterprise, including
Robert Lefebvre moved what was left of Rampart College, mainly its home study course, to Southern California.
Childs went back to Buffalo and back to his college classrooms in the fall of 1968 and continued working,
not only on his courses, but also on his argument on the contradiction in the objectivist position on political philosophy.
By the following summer, the summer of 69, he felt he'd finally perfected it. He rewrote it, in the form of an open letter to Ayn Rand herself, and submitted it to The Rational Individualist, a small circulation monthly being published in suburban Washington D.C. by a group of former students of objectivism who called themselves the Society for Rational Individualism, S.R.I. An open letter to Ayn Rand,
Objectivism and the State, by R. A. Childs, Jr., appeared in the August 1969 issue of The Rational Individualist, along with an editorial introduction by Jarrett Wallstein of SRI.
Wallstein wrote that SRI had changed its declaration of principle because Mr. R. A. Childs had convinced them that any government was immoral.
SRI, which had aspired to succeed the recently defunct Nathaniel Brandon Institute as the
institutional home of the objectivist movement, had just taken a stand that would separate
it forever from any officially sanctioned objectivist movement, a stand that was more
Rothbardian than Randian.
You might say that SRI was one of Roy Child's first big victories in his campaign to sell
The Fall of 1969 was, of course, a busy season for the nascent libertarian movement.
At the same time SRI had jumped the Randian ship and turned Rothbardian, the student activists
who had made up the libertarian caucus of the conservative youth organization Young
Among Americans for Freedom, YAF, had decided to walk out of YAF en masse and seek institutional
support for their activities elsewhere.
That fall, SRI merged with the former Libertarian Caucus of YAF to create the Society for Individual
Liberty, SIL, and it did not take the leadership of the new organization long at all to conclude
that the increasingly influential Mr. R. A. Childs should be lured away from his current
career as an undergraduate at SUNY Buffalo to become the associate editor of The Individualist,
the new format of The Rational Individualist, and to run the SIL book service.
And so it was that Childs left SUNY again at the end of the spring term of 1970 to take
a job with SIL in Silver Spring, Maryland.
After two years on the job, Childs had an idea, which he took to Robert Kephart, the
publisher of Human Events, an anti-communist weekly headquartered in Washington, D.C.
Kephart had thought himself a conservative, but had been convinced by a series of conversations
with Childs that he was, in fact, something else, a libertarian.
Childs sketched for Kephart his new idea, his grand vision of a growing, prospering
and Libertarian Movement, led by a crusading, muckraking magazine to be called Libertarian Review.
And Kephart had been sold up to a point.
He allowed Childs to talk him into buying the stock and the mailing list from the SIL
Book Service.
He allowed Childs to talk him into trademarking the name Libertarian Review.
But he balked at the idea of launching a full-scale magazine just yet.
Instead, he beefed up the old SIL book review, adding pages and new reviewers, and changing
the publication's name to Books for Libertarians.
Kephart reasoned that if Books for Libertarians grew and prospered, then after a few years
it could be expanded further.
He had in mind going to a tabloid format, reminiscent of the New York Review of Books,
trotting out the libertarian review name he was holding in reserve, and ending up with
with a libertarian version of the New York Review.
This was a little different from Child's vision, but it was something Child's could live with
very easily.
He enjoyed the sorts of long review essays the New York Review specialized in, and he
looked forward to writing such pieces himself.
Child settled in as editor of books for libertarians, and settled back down to this latest phase
of the work which brought him early fame in the libertarian movement, the work of introducing
It is uncertain whether Childs first encountered Rothbard's works during his freshman year
at SUNY Buffalo, or a few months later when he was taking Robert Lefebvre's comprehensive
course at Rampart College in the summer before his sophomore year.
But encounter them he did, somewhere around 1966 or 67.
He seems to have met Rothbard in person sometime in 1968 or 1969 when he was about 20 years
old, through Ralph Reiko, a Rothbardian professor of European history at SUNY Buffalo and a
long-time personal friend and associate of Rothbard's.
Childs was mightily impressed by what he read inside the covers of Rothbard's books and
by what he heard from Rothbard himself in that famous living room at 215 West 88th Street,
and he was determined to pass his enlightenment along to the students of objectivism who had
begun flooding the libertarian movement after the 1968 collapse of the Nathaniel Brandon
Institute and the subsequent implosion of the objectivist movement.
Rothbard was something of an admirer of Ayn Rand, within limits.
He first met her in the early 1950s when she moved back to New York from Hollywood after
writing the screen adaptation of her novel The Fountainhead.
At that time he didn't much like her.
But as Rothbard biographer Justin Raimondo puts it, when Atlas Shrugged shot to the top
of the bestseller lists in the fall of 1957, Rothbard had to sit up and take notice.
This was, he thought, a dramatic breakthrough for the mass dissemination of libertarian ideas.
A book, albeit a novel, explicitly advocating laissez-faire capitalism and the centrality of private property as the basic organizing principle of a free society.
How could he not feel sympathetic and even enthusiastic about the success of such a book?
Perhaps more important in the long run, the new mass following Rand was attracting for libertarian ideas was, Rothbard felt, generally ill-read and in need of education in several key areas, and the thought of playing an important role in educating these people was genuinely appealing to him.
Not so appealing, however, that he found he could tolerate the company of Rand and her inner circle in order to undertake such a role.
It was, therefore, ten years before students of objectivism were introduced to Rothbardianism in any substantial numbers, and when it happened, the man who made it happen was not Rothbard himself, but the youthful Roy Childs of Buffalo, New York.
From Child's point of view, Rand and Rothbard had a lot in common.
In terms of overall philosophy, they seemed to him to be virtually identical.
Both of them believed in an objective reality that is knowable to all human beings willing to use their rational faculty to investigate it.
Both believed in rational self-interest as a guide to personal action.
Their main area of disagreement was in political philosophy.
Rand insisted upon the necessity of a small, severely limited state. Rothbard was an anarchist.
Hence, Child's opening sally in his crusade to convert Randians to Rothbardianism
had been his argument that a consistent Randian must be an anarchist.
And when he became editor of Books for Libertarians in 1972, he began running laudatory reviews of Rothbard's books,
Man Economy and State, America's Great Depression, The Panic of 1819, Power and Market, What Has Government Done to Our Money,
virtually everything Rothbard had published up to that time.
The first issue of Books for Libertarians is dated July 1972.
A little more than two years later, in October 1974, Books for Libertarians became Libertarian Review.
About a year and a half after that, Libertarian Review abandoned the old newsletter format it had inherited from Books for Libertarians and went to a tabloid format, not unlike that of the New York Review of Books.
With the previous issue, January-February 1976, Libertarian Review had converted to a bi-monthly publication schedule.
But by the time all these changes took place, Childs was long gone.
He didn't even stick around long enough to see Books for Libertarians become Libertarian Review.
He didn't last even two years as editor of Books for Libertarians.
His first issue was July 72. His last was April 74. A 25-year-old has-been,
he had been ignominiously fired from the publication that was his idea,
His creation. His baby. And why? For repeatedly failing to meet his deadlines.
I met Roy Childs in the fall of 1972, only a few months after he started Books for Libertarians,
and I knew him for 20 years. In all that time, I never knew him to pay much heed to deadlines.
Whether he was writing something or editing something, he did it at his own pace, and he
Bob Kephart, on the other hand, wanted to get each issue of Books for Libertarians done and done on time.
He didn't see any other way for it to break through to financial independence.
So, he let Childs go and hired a replacement.
Childs wasn't going to take this setback lying down.
But neither was he.
He didn't see any other way for it to break through to financial independence.
So, he let Childs go and hired a replacement.
In our time, one child's an all-expenses-paid trip to Brussels for the 1974 meeting of the Mont Pelerin Society, where he mingled with just such people as this.
Another piece, The Invisible Hand Strikes Back, a devastatingly clever dissection of Harvard philosopher Robert Nozick's National Book Award-winning Anarchy, State and Utopia, was first presented at the Third Libertarian Scholars Conference in 1975.
in 1975.
Childs also spoke at the 1976 and 1977 libertarian scholars conferences, and in 1977 he became
a research associate of the Center for Libertarian Studies in New York and a member of the editorial
board of the Journal of Libertarian Studies.
Eventually, what he had been working toward did come to pass.
He managed to bring himself to the attention of Charles Koch, a wealthy Kansas oil man
for Libertarians of Every Stripe, or, at least, of many stripes.
He had already secured Murray Rothbard's agreement to write regularly for the New Libertarian
Review, and he had recruited two Rothbardians, the historian Leonard Ligio and the economist
Walter Grinder, as associate editors.
Now he thought it would be nice to be able to add at least one Randian to the masthead.
But it would have to be an unusually broad-minded Randian, one who could work with Rothbardians
on an ongoing basis.
And it would have to be a Randian who could write as knowledgably about current issues
and events as the best of the Rothbardians, and do it with at least equal facility.
It would have to be a Randian who could pull his own weight.
Or her own weight.
Now there was an idea.
But where was there a female Randian who was knowledgeable about current issues and events,
could write, and could be tolerant of Rothbardian anarchists?
There was Joan Kennedy Taylor, of course, but she hadn't written anything on current
issues and events in ten years, and would she be tolerant of the Rothbardians?
Well, there could be no harm in trying.
Childs tried, and again got what he wanted.
By the time of his first issue, in July 1977, he had Joan Kennedy Taylor on his masthead as an associate editor, along with the Rothbardians.
For the next four and a half years, Childs edited Libertarian Review, following it across the country when its offices moved from New York to San Francisco,
and following it back again when it moved again, this time from San Francisco to Washington D.C.
See.
When it ceased publication at the end of 1981, he moved on to a position at the Cato Institute,
where he edited books and wrote articles on foreign policy.
From there, in the mid-1980s, he moved back to New York and became editorial director
of Laissez-Faire Books, where he was responsible for reading through new titles coming on the
market in history, philosophy, economics and current issues, making preliminary decisions
is about which of these titles laissez-faire books ought to carry, and writing reviews
of most of the books the company did end up carrying.
These reviews were published in the monthly laissez-faire review, which doubled, of course,
as a mail-order catalogue.
It is in this role, as the author of what Brian Doherty aptly calls detailed and erudite
reviews for the monthly catalogue of libertarian mail-order bookseller laissez-faire books,
But Childs is probably best remembered today.
As early as 1994, ten years after he took the job at laissez-faire books, and two years
after his untimely death at the age of 43, Joan Kennedy Taylor wrote that many people
only know Roy as the premier book reviewer for laissez-faire books.
In her estimation, among the qualities that won him a multitude of fans during those years
were his vast reading, which he often used to place the book he was discussing in a wider context,
his willingness to point out disagreements he had with the book he was recommending,
and, above all, his unquenchable enthusiasm.
Child's importance in the libertarian tradition extends far beyond his work as a writer, however.
Even at his worst, he was a pretty good writer. At times, he was very good.
But journalism is always a race, a race that's usually followed by a compromise.
You seldom have enough time to get a piece into the shape you'd really like it to have.
You have only so much time, and you often have to settle for the best you could do in the time you
had as a substitute for the best you could do. The haste with which he always had to write
everything he wrote has marred a good deal of what Childs wrote, and one of the reasons his
One of the reasons his own writing suffered from too much haste is that he spent too much of his time rewriting articles by other knowledgeable people who simply didn't write that well, at least at that stage in their careers.
Also, time has passed. Part of what so impressed people about Roy's essays was the fact that here was an obviously brilliant mind writing fairly detailed assessments of current issues and events on the fly,
Just like, to use names that loomed large in journalism at the time, William Buckley, Norman Podhoretz, Nat Hentoff or Nicholas von Hoffman.
He wrote as well as they did at least much of the time, and he was even more astute.
After all, he was a consistent libertarian.
There were few other libertarian voices of that kind back then.
From the standpoint of today, much that Roy wrote seems less brilliant than it did at the time,
Because, with three decades of hindsight, it now seems obvious that his was the correct understanding of the events and issues he was writing about.
He knew that, thirty years ago.
But his brilliance extended far beyond his own writing.
He was a gifted editor-in-chief, the kind of man who could talk well-established intellectuals into writing for his magazine for a tenth of what they'd earn
and a fraction of the audience they'd reach if they sold the same article to Harper's or Esquire or the Atlantic.
He was the kind of editor who planned issues months ahead, who saw the big picture, where the magazine was heading, and why.
He was also, as Brian Doherty calls him, the sort of man whose presence put smiles on people's faces.
He was the sort of figure all ideological movements need, the tireless networker, letter writer, phone caller, dedicated to a larger vision of a long-term libertarian project that extended beyond whatever work he happened to be doing, as dedicated to promoting and connecting other libertarian comrades as producing specific, tangible work of his own.
At his peak in his late 20s and early 30s when he was editing libertarian review, he was, as Doherty puts it,
the most consistent personal inspiration and support to a rising generation of young libertarians.
Roy Childs was one of the handful of people of whom it might be said that, had he not lived, had he not done what he did,
the libertarian movement as we know it today would not exist.
This is Jeff Riggenbach.