By S. Sponte, Esq.
What with the sudden, unexpected death of our president judge this week, it’s been a sad time here for everyone, especially me. Yes, I know it wasn’t as bad for me as it was for him, but at least his worldly cares are behind him. His passing though has left me with a fresh new angst upon which to dwell.
While sitting through the Mass celebrated in his memory, I had time to think. I also had time to read War and Peace. Once again we have an unexpected judicial vacancy, one that will have to be filled by gubernatorial appointment, and once again many of my local colleagues will undoubtedly vie for selection.
The compelling issue for me regarding this judicial vacancy is that I do not want it. Now I know that that is not earthshaking to you, but it is to me. In the almost 30 years that I have been practicing law, there’s never been a single vacancy on our county bench that has not got me fantasizing about being a judge.
Sitting there in the basilica during the Mass, I once again began the familiar fantasy. It always starts with a groundswell of support for me from my local colleagues. That always leads to a spontaneous county-wide bipartisan clamor from the electorate, which in turn triggers a persuasive letter-writing campaign to the governor. Only this time, when he calls to beg me on bended knee to take the appointment at triple the statutory salary, I say no. Boy, if you think he was astonished, you should have seen me. I was so stunned, I started the fantasy all over again, but the result was the same.
Undoubtedly the thought of my being on the bench sends a tsunami of fear and loathing through the hearts of the wicked, the godless and stupid of this county. But alas, they may rest easy, for if nominated I shall not run, if elected I shall not serve and if … well, I think that’s actually all of it.
This whole incident has given me pause to reflect on just how I got to this place. I remember clearly the first time it occurred to me that I wanted to be a judge. I was in law school and swooning over my constitutional courses. Then one night on television I saw Walter Cronkite interview Associate Justice Hugo Black. Mr. Justice Black spoke about the Bill of Rights with dignity and elegance (“When the Founding Fathers said Congress shall make no law, they meant Congress shall make no law.”) and I was forever after hooked. It was direct, and it was absolute, and after nearly three years of law school, it was also the first thing I understood.
Thereafter, I thought about being a judge all the time. Whenever a vacancy would occur, be it by stroke of the Legislature, stroke of the cerebrum or otherwise, I would fancy myself suitable replacement material.
Oh, I know what you are thinking. If I wanted the job badly enough, why didn’t I simply run in a general election? The answer to that is quite self-evident. The election process being what it is, I think any person who voluntarily enters such a contest is ipso facto demonstrating such character flaws as would be grounds for immediate removal from office.
I first began to lose my enchantment with the job back in the days when I still did family law. Our family court judges were able, hard-working jurists who, despite their best efforts, couldn’t ameliorate anyone’s problems. The best they could do was apply the law to the facts. Needless to say, it was a disaster, and I had no interest in doing that kind of work.
Figuring I would be good in Orphan’s court, I started to actually pay attention to probate matters. I started to go to the estate audits just to listen and learn. Then one day, after a particularly challenging audit, I went up to the bench to ask His Honor a question and discovered it wasn’t His Honor at all but instead a life-size cardboard cutout. As I stood there, a tape recorder sprung into action. “Have you notified all the beneficiaries,” it queried of no one in particular.
Knowing that I needed something with a little more diversity than Orphan’s court, I set my sights on civil court. I called up a friend of mine who sat as a judge in civil court and invited him to lunch. “What’s it like,” I asked him, “bringing justice into the lives of the common folk?”
“I’ll let you know if I ever find out,” he said. “Are you paying for lunch?”
So, as I sat there in the basilica, I finally came to grips with the erosion of my dream. If my experiences as a lawyer have taught me anything it is that I no longer wish to be a judge.
Confronting it like this has been quite cathartic. Still though, the death of a fantasy does tend to leave poignant tracks. Though I have had a moderately successful career, I must perforce face the realization that I no longer am what I was when I wanted to be what I am now. The French have a phrase for such things, petit morte, “a little death.”
No, it’s not the same fate as befell our president judge, not yet at least. But I now officially leave the judging business to others. Who knows, it may even be you. And if it is you, and if someday I appear before you in need of relief on behalf of one of my many worthy clients, I hope you will remember with kindness the wizened and weary traveler who got the hell out of your way.
Copyright 1998, S. Sponte, Esq.