Lawrence Henry, a damned fine writer, has died

The bad news was up at the American Spectator today. Henry was a regular contributor there.

I look at hundreds of pieces of writing every week. I read parts of dozens. I go beginning to end on very few. Lawrence Henry’s pieces were among those few that I usually read beginning to end.

He had style and something to say, two of the hardest things for a writer to have in the same place at the same time. A former itinerant rock and roll bad boy, he rebuilt his life on sobriety and faith.

I wish that I had known him, because by his writing he was a hell of a good guy. My sympathies go out to his family, which he made no secret about loving with all his heart.

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