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Colleen Hroncich

Jennifer Wolverton calls Log Cabin Schoolhouse an “accidental startup.” An engineer by trade, she became a homeschooler after discovering that one of her kids was dyslexic. With her engineering background, she was soon the math teacher for all of their friends.

When COVID-19 hit, “We went online like everybody else did,” she recalls. “I started taking registrations for my classes on my blog just because we were all online and it was an easy thing to do. And all of a sudden I had kids in other states. I had kids in New York and California, and the next summer I had kids in Australia. Now I have kids in Canada.” And that was the start of Log Cabin Schoolhouse, LLC.

Since then, Jennifer and her family moved to Alabama, and two of her kids have graduated and headed to college. She was searching for the right educational fit for her younger son. “We’ve tried so many things since we’ve been here,” she says. “It’s hard when you know exactly what you want and just can’t find it because it really doesn’t exist.” So she decided to create it: Log Cabin Microschool will launch in the fall in Huntsville, Alabama at a virtual reality theme park called DiVRgence.

The uniqueness of Jennifer’s approach is that she marries the latest technology with classical education—or, as she puts it, she “smashes” them together. For English, this takes the form of the AI Writers’ Guild she created that anyone can take through Log Cabin Schoolhouse. Jennifer partnered with a woman from Germany who developed a program called NovelCraft, an AI‐​powered brainstorming tool, to give Log Cabin students free access to the program.

“It empowers young novelists to write and self‐​publish a novel with the assistance of artificial intelligence and technology,” Jennifer explains. “It’s super cool. I’m targeting middle schoolers, but it is a full credit of high school English as well. You’ll write a full novel with the potential to publish it on Amazon KDP. You become an expert in Microsoft Word because you wind up with a 10,000- to 40,000-word manuscript with a clickable table of contents. And you also become an expert in Microsoft OneNote, which is where you do all your novel brainstorming.”

She’s also planning to “smash” history and technology. “My kids will be telling the US history story—the high schoolers will tell it through website design, and my middle schoolers will tell it through a podcast,” Jennifer says. In science, the “smashing” will involve virtual reality, but she doesn’t have that completely figured out yet.

One of Jennifer’s goals is to create producers of technology as opposed to consumers. She’d like to see the conversation switch from eliminating screen time to thinking about the proportion of it.

Maybe in kindergarten you have one proportion, like maybe they’re 80% off screens and 20% on screens. And then by the time they’re in high school, when you have them on screens, you think about how much they’re producing. They may be coding while they’re on it. So maybe 80% of the time they’re on screens when they’re in high school, you want them producing something as opposed to just consuming games. I’d like to kind of try and start changing that conversation. I feel like we’re not having the right conversation when we just talk about removing our children from computers. It’s real hard for a tech family like mine to have that conversation because we have our kids on devices all the time, but they’re literally making things all the time. One of my daughters has five 3D printers, so she’s literally crafting things all the time. And the idea of removing her from her devices is just far, far from my mind.

Pointing to the Alabama School of Cyber Technology and Engineering, which she says is amazing but cost millions of dollars and only teaches a few hundred kids a year, Jennifer has a different vision: partnering with rec centers in Alabama. “There are 94 rec centers in Alabama. And I’d like to bring 96 or so kids through each of the rec centers. And I would be able to serve this cutting‐​edge education to 9,024 kids in Alabama without needing that significant amount of capital,” she says.

One exciting aspect of the partnership with DiVRgence is that the owner has a nonprofit focused on esports and wants to take esports all around Alabama through the rec centers. So together, they can bring cutting‐​edge micro schools and esports to kids throughout Alabama.

Jennifer is supportive of the CHOOSE Act, which is Alabama’s new education savings account program, and she hopes to participate eventually if the regulatory burden isn’t too high. “It will depend if I have students who want to make use of it,” she says. “Home schoolers are who we serve, and in our state they only get $2,000.” Her tuition is currently below that, but it doesn’t cover all the costs associated with the microschool, so she’ll have to raise it at some point.

It’s exciting to see the new opportunities that are being created as education entrepreneurship spreads. By “smashing” classical education components with the latest technology and a push to help kids become producers, Jennifer is opening entirely new pathways for students in Alabama and, potentially, beyond.

Patrick G. Eddington

I can safely say I was far more intimidated by having to prepare for my job interview with David than I was preparing for a series of interviews to get the job with the CIA. Facing someone with a towering intellect will do that to you. I’ll always be grateful that he decided I was good enough to make the cut and join Cato.

In a world in which we’re surrounded by people in our society who are consumed with celebrity, trinkets, and passing fads, David always kept his focus on what mattered most—working to create a society that was truly free and just. Others have spoken on his pivotal role in creating and promoting Cato and its work.

What I’ll remember him for most was what he did in the last months of his life: reminding us that a liberal order is worth fighting for and preserving in an America that is slipping dangerously towards an authoritarian abyss. The best way we can honor David and his legacy is to continue defending that liberal order.

Neal McCluskey

I worked with David Boaz for more than twenty years—indeed, for several years he was my direct boss. Like perhaps everyone who has known and worked with David, I was somewhat in awe of him throughout that time, struck by the immense dedication with which he undertook the work of advancing liberty, and his seemingly limitless knowledge of policy and politics. But his knowledge of my policy area was particularly deep because David was a champion of educational freedom well before I—or the Center for Educational Freedom—existed at Cato.

In 1991, Cato published David’s book Liberating Schools: Education in the Inner City, which made the case for school choice—money following children to chosen schools instead of going directly to government institutions—as the key to delivering better education for inner‐​city families. This was published just as modern school choice was beginning with the Milwaukee voucher program.

David also tackled two choice arguments that are crucial but too often overlooked.

He co‐​wrote a Briefing Paper in 1996 pointing out that, contra what many reporters and others think when they hear “private school,” most private institutions are not “Dalton, Andover, and Exeter,” with sky‐​high tuition that no voucher would likely ever meet. Private schooling consists, instead, largely of schools with tuition appreciably below what public schools spend per student, and hence readily affordable by just sharing the money. Also in 1996, David enunciated the power of choice to end the constant battles we see in public schools over everything from math curricula to books in school libraries. As he wrote:

The way out of this problem is to give parents more control over their children’s education. School choice is usually promoted as a way to improve education–which it is–but just as important, it would allow parents to choose schools that fit their values and preferences.

Allowing people to choose what they think is right—not government deciding for everyone—is the essence of liberty. Consistent with his lifetime work, David Boaz made that clear in education long before many of us had written our first word.

Roger Pilon

In writing, speaking, or through the media, no one communicated the principles and spirit of the classical liberal, libertarian vision more clearly or compellingly than David Boaz. Those principles of individual liberty and human flourishing secured through constitutionally limited government were alive in David and in all he did.

Two brief personal stories will bookend my tribute. Early in 1988 I met David for lunch with the idea of proposing a Center for Constitutional Studies at Cato. He resonated with every point, took the proposal to Ed Crane, and the rest is history. David was the catalyst. And he and Tom Palmer were instrumental in bringing forth Cato’s best‐​selling publication, our pocket Declaration and Constitution, which has inspired countless millions.

Ed used to say that before there was Spellcheck, there was Boaz. David was the consummate editor. Nothing got past him, which brings me to my second story. Two weeks ago, as I learned that David lay abed in Sibley Hospital, confident that he had his laptop with him, I emailed him to inquire whether I might visit him. He responded that he was about to leave for home. Aaron Ross Powell, who was with him, wrote back to say that David could not type but was using a speech‐​to‐​text program to respond to emails. But before sending, he was running his responses by Aaron to ensure there were no punctuation errors created by the program. That was David. To the end, he insisted on quality in everything he did. There will never be another like him. Rest in Peace my good friend and inspiration.

Sallie James

I won’t be the only one here with lingering PTSD from their job interview with DB. Nor will I be alone in having stories of feedback delivered pointedly from David if he found my scholarship, arguments, grammar, or rhetoric wanting. In fact, I spent the first five years of my tenure at Cato being petrified of David. But I got to know him better and have long since considered him one of my favourite people and a treasured friend.

He was exacting, to be sure, and often contrarian. He was also scrupulously fair, intellectually honest, thoughtful, principled, and (beneath the sometimes gruff exterior) a deeply caring and very funny person. I’ve spent countless hours in his office discussing current events, pop culture, funny stories from Cato’s past, and news about mutual friends. And I always learned something new about any policy issue I cared to ask about. Over the last several years, after I started to work remotely and especially in the pandemic years when visits to HQ were less regular, I called him every few weeks to discuss the latest news and to hear his opinion on matters big and small. I will treasure our conversations always, and miss them terribly.

David cared deeply about every aspect of the Institute, no matter how seemingly trivial or “beneath” his pay grade. He knew what everyone was working on, paid attention to everything produced at Cato, and devoted his life to the values and mission of freedom. His speeches never failed to inspire and motivate us all to do our best. I am sure I am not the only person at Cato who will continue to be guided by the rubric of “What would David think?”

David was the heart and soul of the Institute, and I will miss him every day. Vale, DB, and thank you for everything.

James A. Dorn

I worked with David for 40 years. His zeal for a civil society based on libertarian principles is unparalleled. He consistently applied his razor‐​sharp mind to the cause of freedom. He will be sorely missed, but his legacy of liberty will live on.

Harrison Moar

My fear of moving into an office next to David Boaz seemed justified. It was 2013, and I had just accepted a new role at Cato. After all, David was the longtime executive vice president, and Cato stood on the principle that “Boaz Knows”—he’s always watching and reading. David had skewered too much of my work for me to think I was in for smooth sailing. 

Soon enough, something about David made me embrace the challenge and preparation needed to walk into his office and enter intellectual combat—whether it was for feedback or when he’d ask for help searching for an email (neither of us figured out the Outlook search function). I embraced the challenge because I wanted to learn, and David wanted to teach. His mentorship abilities were only eclipsed by his vast knowledge. 

David was accessible, open, and honest. He loved discussing any issue, and our conversations would veer from classic movies (his specialty) to modern technology (a pretend specialty of mine; I had an edge on him). David did not intend to demotivate or belittle with occasional sharp responses or follow‐​up questions. He was honing my skills and knowledge as a communicator, problem solver, libertarian, and leader. Occasionally (and more often as the years passed), he’d say, “I think that’s right,” in his Kentucky accent, and I’d walk out beaming. 

David was principled, sharp, and humble. He lived by the values that he insisted on and dedicated his life to ensuring that the Cato Institute exemplified. His humility often led him to downplay his importance not only to mainstreaming libertarianism but also to fostering the next generation of libertarians. Yet, on these two items, few have done more than David.

David has influenced the careers, professional development, and lives of too many individuals to count. Whether it was his fantastic staff writers or a visiting freedom fighter from Africa, David always sat down with anyone who wanted to talk—or those who were made to speak to him. Staff would pile up outside my office waiting for David—some to answer a “Boaz Knows” message, no doubt, and I could see the fear in their eyes. Yet he always seemed ready to engage the next person charitably. David was generous with his time, which he spent pursuing truth, knowledge, and liberty. 

When I asked David what he was most proud of in his career, he said the fact that libertarianism is now recognized as a legitimate intellectual position worthy of attention. But this will always be a struggle, and we should not, for example, take for granted that Cato scholars are regularly quoted on the front page of the Wall Street Journal and cited as libertarians. We cannot take for granted that libertarianism will remain in the mainstream—Cato must never surrender its mission to move the climate of ideas and debate toward liberty. As David wrote, “to live up to these expectations, it’s everyone’s job to … keep Cato Cato, and keep Cato sharp.”

We will always have this in mind, David. We must, for as you said often in speeches, “there’s never been a golden age of liberty, and there never will be. There will always be people who want to live their lives in peace, and there will always be people who want to exploit them or impose their own ideas on others. There will always be a conflict between liberty and power. And that’s why we’ll always need a movement for freedom. We can’t count on politicians to protect freedom. It’s up to us. That’s why we are here.”

I am beyond lucky to have had my office next to David’s and to have been one of the many who count him as a major mentor. David’s legacy as a vanguard of libertarianism and the Cato Institute is monumental, and his impact on so many people professionally and personally will ensure these institutions thrive and grow. Thank you, David.

Maria Santos Bier

David Boaz, the longtime executive vice president and later distinguished senior fellow of the Cato Institute, was a leader and a legend of the libertarian movement. He wrote the book on libertarianism—and the Encyclopedia Brittanica entry, too. In the years that I was privileged to work for him as staff writer, he taught me everything from why all libertarians should be feminists to why one must never hyphenate adverbs ending in ‑ly.

Like Hayek, David believed that “We must make the building of a free society once more an intellectual adventure, a deed of courage.” Writing about the Boston Tea Party and the bravery of the Sons of Liberty, David once enjoined:

We need Sons and Daughters of Liberty today in America. We need them in the schools, and in the media, and in every workplace. We need them on the Internet and sometimes on the picket lines. We need them to make sure officeholders never forget what it’s like to live under the laws and pay the taxes, and we need them to run for office themselves. We even need a few of them in Washington, in the belly of the beast.

David took that charge seriously, moving with Cato from its first office in San Francisco—a mostly windowless former warehouse—to Washington DC, where he would oversee its growth from a small upstart organization to a leading think tank. A news junkie at heart, David always took care to remind people that Cato moved to the capital not to be closer to the government, but to be closer to journalists.

When I first started working for David, I was advised by former employees that, at a minimum, I’d need to start reading the Washington Post cover to cover every morning if I wanted any hope of keeping up with him. David’s voracious news consumption combined with his remarkable memory meant that he had an encyclopedic knowledge of just about any topic. And not just politics and policy—he trounced much younger colleagues in pop culture trivia. He was always up on the latest, writing, “I want to find out what happens next—in everything from sports to politics to TV soaps to the newest scientific discoveries.”

In Cato Policy Report, which he edited for several decades, his editorials and humorous “To Be Governed” section showcased his wit. The quintessential libertarian, no political party was safe from his barbs, whether he was opining that, “When a liberal talks about patriotism, it’s a good idea to watch your wallet,” or that “Electing a Republican government, like entering a second marriage, is a triumph of hope over experience.”

Libertarians are sometimes caricatured as grouchy, “atomistic” individualists who always think the sky is falling. David frequently and eloquently debunked the idea that individualism and community are at odds:

In fact, we consider cooperation so essential to human flourishing that we don’t just want to talk about it; we want to create social institutions that make it possible. That’s what property rights, limited government, and the rule of law are all about.

And he was a relentless voice of optimism, reminding us that we live in one of the best and freest times to be alive:

More people in more countries than ever before in history enjoy religious freedom, personal freedom, democratic governance, the freedom to own and trade property, the chance to start a business, equal rights, civility, respect, and a longer life expectancy.

War, disease, violence, slavery, and inhumanity have been dramatically reduced.

And it is libertarian ideas and liberty‐​minded people that have made that happen.

It’s true that libertarians can sometimes be defeatist. It’s hard not to be discouraged by all the ways that government restricts liberty. But if we truly believe in the power of ideas to change the world, David’s contributions were more consequential than any government statute could ever be.

David defined libertarianism for my generation, and for generations to come. He reminded us daily that classical liberal ideas have already won out against superstition and tyranny; that freedom and progress have triumphed time and again against despotism. That cultural shifts to a more cosmopolitan and tolerant society have brought down more barriers and given people more choice than many changes in law or politics. We should not be despondent—like David, we should be excited to see what happens next.

As he might observe, in the words of Dr. Johnson:

How small, of all that human hearts endure,
That part which laws or kings can cause or cure!

David J. Bier

Almost no one has had a greater impact on my life than David Boaz. I couldn’t even pronounce his name correctly when I first met him, but growing up, David “Bo‐​az” was the final word on policy. His books and articles applying the principles of the Declaration of Independence to the problems of modern America lined our shelves.

Without him, I never would have heard of the Cato Institute, nor could I have imagined a libertarian policy position. Being the sole light in a post‑9/​11 world of policy darkness, the writings of Boaz and Cato—which were effectively synonymous in my mind—were the reason I abandoned my dream of being an engineer to devote my life to policy. I may have been a libertarian, somewhere, doing something, but it would have been an impoverished version without the depth, joy, and optimism of Boaz libertarianism. 

His first email to me after hiring me was just a terse correction of my formatting of ellipses, but as many of our mistakes as he caught at Cato, I know he prevented far more. Boaz’s mere existence at Cato was a constant reminder to elevate your work to the loftiness of his standards and to remember the deeper purpose of why we write: not for citations or clicks or even academic curiosity, but to respectably represent the cause of liberty. 

When I think about the effect that he has had and will continue to have on my life, I cannot help but think about all the millions of other people who he has affected who will never work at Cato but who will nevertheless carry on the torch of liberty. I recently received an email thanking me for writing The Libertarian Mind. I wish! But the error motivated me to open it and read David’s conclusion again: “Libertarianism is not just a framework for utopia, it is the indispensable framework for the future.”

Well said, as always. And I believe that no one can claim to have done more to give that framework a bright future than David Boaz. 

Aaron Steelman

David Boaz was one of the most extraordinary people I have ever met. He was a great conveyor of ideas, a witty conversationalist, and an omnivore of ideas.

And, of course, he was a libertarian. When I asked him how he came to his ideological views, he said, “I think instinctually I always was a libertarian. It just took me a while to fully get it.” Well, once he got it, he really got it.

Some have argued that the key question for libertarians is: “Do you hate the state?” I think David felt something like hatred – “contempt” would be a better word – when, for instance, the state imprisoned people for hurting no one but themselves and when it locked families in cycles of poverty. But I believe David would have framed the question differently: “Do you love humanity?”

He did not claim that liberty should be the highest personal value. But he did think it was the highest political value because it permitted people to pursue their ends as they best saw fit, to be fully human. He was correct about that, as he was so many things.

It was one of the great fortunes of my life to have known David for 30 years. He was a true and steadfast friend with a magnanimous spirit. I will miss him dearly.