Introduc­tion by Leon­ard Peikoff

Mary Ann and Charles Sures were longtime personal friends of Ayn Rand—Mary Ann for twenty-eight years, Charles for almost twenty. Their recollec­tions in this delight­ful memoir make vivid­ly real the Ayn Rand they knew so well.

Their book offers plenti­ful examples of Ayn Rand’s mind, and in­tel­lec­tu­al generosity, in ac­tion, and also captures many lesser-known aspects of this unique woman. In these pages, we see Ayn Rand the celebrity, the lov­ing wife, the legal client (of Charles), the employer (of Mary Ann). We are with her in her study (includ­ing the day she wrote the last page of Atlas Shrugged), at stamp shows, at the opera, on a New York City transit bus, in the White House. We dis­cov­er new examples of her favorite and least favorite things in clothes, perfume, parties, music. We relish again her sense of humor, her capacity for indignant anger, her benevolence.

The Sures un­der­stand and admire the passion for values from which Ayn Rand’s anger stemmed. In Mary Ann’s words, she was some­one “who always speaks out, unequivocally, against irra­tionality and injustice, and who not on­ly denounces evil, but who defends the good. She was mankind’s in­tel­lec­tu­al guardian, a soldier in the battle of ideas. Her banner was always fly­ing high. When she died, some­one made the follow­ing comment: ‘now anger has gone out of the world.’ And I thought, it’s true, and it’s the world’s loss, and mine.”

As to Ayn Rand’s response to the good, Mary Ann describes some eloquent scenes, such as: “I had heard that when [Ayn’s] ship reached the pier [from Russia], tears ran down her face as she looked up to the skyline of New York. I asked what those tears were for. Frank answered: ‘They were tears of splendor.’ And Ayn nodded in agreement.”

The unique quality of these memoirs is not on­ly the new content they reveal, but also the perfect balance they achieve among ideas, emo­tions, and ac­tions, includ­ing where appropriate specific dialogue and physical, perceptual details. The result has almost the impact of fic­tion, specifical­ly of Romantic characteriza­tion. From the book one gains not a mélange of random memories, abstract ideas, and disconnected concretes, but rather the experience of an actual larger-than-life person.

The person in this book is the same person I myself knew for so long; read­ing these pages is almost like hav­ing Ayn Rand in the room again. The result on me is part­ly sadness that the irreplaceable is gone, but most­ly exhilara­tion that she once was real.

Admirers of Ayn Rand owe a debt of gratitude to the Sures for their dedica­ted work in put­ting this compel­ling material on record. They finished the manuscript just before Charles died last December. He spent considerable time dur­ing his last weeks and even days in edit­ing and polish­ing his parts of the book. Know­ing how near he was to death, he still said to Mary Ann: “It’s one of the most important things we have ever done. We have to make it just right.” This is the kind of hero­ism before which one stands hushed, in farewell salute.

Ayn Rand and her husband would have grieved at Charles’s death. I know this because I know the values they shared, and what friends the four of them were. The Sures were among the few peo­ple in Ayn Rand’s life who were in­tel­lec­tu­al­ly honest all the way down: they accepted her phi­los­o­phy, they lived by it, they remained loyal to it and to her throughout her life and theirs. Thus the special feel­ing Ayn Rand communica­ted whenever she spoke of them.

Those who want to know more about the author of The Foun­tain­head and Atlas Shrugged now have a new opportunity to do so—thanks to the lov­ing memories of two love­ly peo­ple, Mary Ann and Charles Sures.

Irvine, California March 2001

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