The Word of Law Filtered Through the Great-Grandson

In the past two days, I have finished Gideon's Trumpet by Anthony Lewis, about the Supreme Court case in 1963 that led to legal representation for those who can't afford an attorney. I've been inspired by John Houseman's wonderfully modest performance as Earl Warren in the TV movie adaptation, enough to want to read about Warren's life, hoping he was really that way (In the one scene that inspired me, Warren walks into the room where his clerks are and calls out, "Ken?" Arthur, one of his other clerks, rises and says, "Mr. Chief Justice," and so does another clerk, besides Ken too, and Warren says, "Don't stand up, don't stand up."). And I've just finished Out of Order: Stories from the History of the Supreme Court by Sandra Day O'Connor. I am not a lawyer, nor do I have any desire to become one.

And yet, I am interested in the Supreme Court, in the federal courts, and in some of the lower courts, including my Nevada Supreme Court and my former Florida Supreme Court, as well as other courts extant in both states. A couple years ago in Southern California, when my father went to court to get the spelling of his name legally changed to ward off problems brought on by a criminal with the same name as him, including the no-fly list and a few financial issues, there were two cases ahead of him in the courtroom we were in, and I was fascinated by the procedures, so absorbed in them.

This is all due to my late maternal great-grandfather, Zeide as I knew him, who was a lawyer, as I learned from my mom when I grew up. She also told me that when I was a baby, he used to have me on his lap while he watched his beloved boxing matches on TV. This may be what led to me writing recaps of fantasy boxing matches for a website I've long forgotten, in the early days of the Internet, or my early days of it anyway. I'm not sure if his love of boxing inspired me to take that on, or if it was deep in the back of my mind and clanged when I found that opportunity, but I think it might be in my genes because I don't remember thinking about it at all when I found it. I haven't been interested in boxing since, though. I think it only cropped up that one time to gauge my interest and then disappeared.

According to Mom, who I believe because it sounded like Zeide had a caring nature and I strive to emulate that on top of my own, he was a devoted, honest lawyer who wanted what his clients wanted and worked his hardest to seek that particular outcome for them, whatever it might have been. He also had an extensive law library in the house where my mom grew up (she was raised by him and her grandmother, my great-grandmother of course, who I also unfortunately don't remember), and in fact, a year and a half ago, I ordered United States Reports Vol. 515 from the Government Printing Office, which had a low price of, well, I want to say $7.50, but it may have been slightly higher. But being on sale at that price, for 1,323 pages, I wanted to see what one of these volumes looked like, and to read it too. The full title is Cases Adjudged in the Supreme Court at October Term, 1994. This was back when William H. Rehnquist was Chief Justice and John Paul Stevens and David H. Souter, one of my favorite justices, were on the Court. When Mom saw it, she said, "I saw those in Zeide's library!"

My love of presidential history naturally includes forays into Congress and the Supreme Court, because all the branches of government interact. So of course I'd read about those battles and those rarest of rare Kumbaya moments, but being most passionate about the presidency, why would I explore the Supreme Court beyond what I read about it within the presidency?

It had to be in my genes once again. Otherwise, why would I go there when there's the White House, Air Force One, the Oval Office, the White House movie theater, foreign policy decisions, domestic policy, and so much else to explore that may well take the rest of my life?

It wasn't only Zeide's influence, most likely from his genes reaching through my mom to me. Here's the presidency, big and at times boisterous, facing the world head-on. Here's Congress, mostly boisterous. And then here's the Supreme Court, which, while it decides cases of potentially historical stature, seems so quiet. The justices do their work quietly. There are no cameras allowed during arguments in the courtroom. There are only transcripts and audio after the cases are argued, and then there are the written opinions released after they, or portions of them, have been read from the bench. In short, it's the perfect place for me.

The Supreme Court reminds me of my beloved libraries. In books at least, I can explore any aspect of them I want to, and I can have a fine, quiet, peaceful time while doing so. I visit SCOTUSblog every day to see what's going on at the Court and to find links to commentaries and concise, open explanation about that activity, as well as be surprised by some of the books coming out about the Court that I hadn't heard of before. That's how I found out about The Roberts Court: The Struggle for the Constitution by Marcia Coyle, which I of course ordered. I want to read it and I don't want to wait for my local library to get it in, not least because I'm not sure how often I'm going to be able to use the Las Vegas-Clark County Library District after we move, at least before I get a car, being that the few libraries in Henderson are all run by Henderson Libraries, totally separate from the LVCCLD. That doesn't mean you can't use both library cards. Wherever you live, you can get a Henderson library card if you want, but you can only obviously use it at the Henderson libraries. And I don't know how many holds I can expect for The Roberts Court. The listing in the LVCCLD catalog shows that there are four copies ordered for the entire district, but no holds so far. Even so, even after the book is released, it still takes time for the book to get to the district and then be processed and fitted with a barcode and then to be sent from the central location where books are processed, wherever that is, to be sent to those libraries, or to be sent from there to fulfill any requests at other libraries, which may well have been mine, but you see why I don't want to wait. It's about the Supreme Court. I don't want to wait. Some books I just have to have right away.

I am flummoxed by many of the legal theories posed in the books I read, and in the technical details of many of the cases presented to the Supreme Court, but that doesn't stop me. Nor does it stop my curiosity about the federal courts and the lower courts. Plus, I'm also interested in the writing quality of the Supreme Court justices, including the justices on the Nevada Supreme Court and the Florida Supreme Court. I've read a few of those opinions. Good so far, but some of them get tangled up in their legal vines. (I hate saying it like that, but it's true in some cases.) But the ruling stands, and that's what matters most in these courts.

I don't expect to be a legal expert, but remembering my experience waiting in that courtoom for my dad's name change, and my grandfather apparently doing much good in the law, I like reading about all of this. It's not only those, though. I love the silence to think while I read, to learn more about these laws, undoubtedly with less pressure than law school students go through, which is why learning it this way is for me and why I don't want to attend college again. I don't like classrooms and scheduled times to learn. Give me my books and I'll learn it. I'm happiest learning on my own, just like the Supreme Court justices do that sometimes-momentous work on their own. No influences, supposedly. No outside noise, well, not that they can hear in chambers. No interruptions. It's another library for me. I can spend years in here, and I will. I don't know if my grandfather actually read all those books in his law library, but I've a feeling he did. I'm sure the curiosity he had toward the law is the same curiosity I have. That's the only way to explain it. I'm not doing it for him, but I'm proud to follow him in that respect.

An Attempt at Reading United States Reports, Volume 515

Owing to my interest in the Supreme Court, recently revitalized by having read Five Chiefs by John Paul Stevens, which in turn spurred me on to order biographies of Antonin Scalia and Sandra Day O'Connor that I had checked out of the library earlier this year but had not read, and having read The Nine by Jeffrey Toobin and The Brethren by Bob Woodward and Scott Armstrong, I pulled out of a stack near my left-side closet door United States Reports, Volume 515, a result of rooting through the Government Printing Office Bookstore website (http://bookstore.gpo.gov/), seeing if there were any cheap volumes of Supreme Court decisions. The full official title of 515 is United States Reports, V. 515, Cases Adjudged in the Supreme Court at October Term, 1994, May 30 through September 29, 1995, Together with Opinions of Individual Justices in Chambers, End of Term. 1,369 pages. $19.

The volume nearest to this one that I can find on the website is volume 513, and that goes for $50.40. I bought this one because I was curious about what such a book looks like and it's incredibly thick in hardcover, with a gloomy tan cover, and very official type on the spine with United States Reports in gold lettering, against a red background, with gold bars above and below it, and the same gold bars above and below Oct. Term 1994 and below that, Amendments of Rules, both lines against a black background. When Mom saw it after I took it out of the box it came in, she said it was exactly what her grandfather had in his law office, hundreds of books like this one lined up on shelves. She remembered it well.

Curiosity spurred me on to order this. I didn't want to read for hours the .pdfs available on the Supreme Court website, though I may scroll through them, and wanted one volume that I could read through, seeing what's written here, as well as the writing styles of the justices, particular David Souter in this time, who is my favorite justice, albeit retired now.

There will be occasional entries as I pore over it, things observed, use of footnotes, how much they're used, how each justice seems to approach the case at hand in their words, and the careful use of words to make the law clear.

Insular Worlds

Late yesterday afternoon, as Dad pulled into a parking space near the deli entrance of Ralphs in Valencia (There's the deli entrance on the right side, and the produce entrance on the left side on the other side of the parking lot), I closed Five Chiefs by John Paul Stevens on a page in which he was talking about the tenure of Chief Justice William H. Rehnquist. And as I walked to the deli entrance behind Dad, I began thinking about my interest in the Supreme Court and realized that everything that interests me are insular worlds.

I've been debating about whether "insular" is the right word. Merriam-Webster's second definition (http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/insular) is "characteristic of an isolated people; especially: being, having, or reflecting a narrow provincial viewpoint."

Provincial. Ok. Merriam-Webster's definitions of that, under "adjective" (http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/provincial?show=0&t=1317073998), include "limited in outlook: narrow" and "lacking the polish of urban society: unsophisticated." The second definition, to me, is a subjective term, and the justices of the Supreme Court certainly aren't limited in outlook, based on the experience they bring to their positions and opinions they have formed over decades which inform the votes they cast and the decisions they write, and "characteristic of an isolated people" seems like the wrong kind of definition, being that people throughout the world come to them, including those who populate the courtroom as viewers, and the lawyers that argue the cases, and defendants and plaintiffs seeking judgment, but in a way, they are isolated. There is only this Supreme Court in the United States. And the work of the Court is very much cloistered. Maybe "cloistered" is the better word. Or "secluded." But the words I seek for description are still debatable when applied to my other interests.

After I picked up a basket and Dad and I walked to the deli to wait for potato salad (for Dad) and half a pound of American cheese (for us), I went right back to where the carts are stored and picked up the September issue of Southern California Gaming Guide. On the cover is "Sycuan Casino: Reimagined." I've never been to this casino, only San Manuel Indian Bingo and Casino in these eight years in Southern California, but the article about the changes interested me. In a way, casinos are cloistered, "providing shelter from contact with the outside world," according to another Merriam-Webster definition. The world here is gambling and bingo and buffets and poker and sports betting and everything that makes being over 21 a lot of fun. My fascination with casinos is because of Las Vegas, of course, but I'm always curious to learn how other casinos operate, even if I never go to them.

Tying into casinos is my interest in bingo halls. Now those are not only indeed cloistered, but they're an entirely different culture, a lot of fun, a lot of camaraderie that comes easily, and it's very friendly, because you're playing on the same level as everyone else. It's not like poker. Everyone has an equal chance here. I remember at San Manuel how a couple at the table across from us four let us borrow two of their daubers, before we bought our own from the snack bar, and we handed those daubers back to them when we left, along with the ones we bought, thanked them, and they told us that it was their pleasure. Just like that. If you're not familiar with bingo, anyone there is very helpful. Of course, I say that with the experience of the San Manuel bingo hall. I can't vouch for others, at least until I go to them, which I intend to because there is something to be written extensively about that culture, and I want to write it, whatever it might be.

Some malls are insular, that if you drive away after and go to another mall, you likely won't find the same experience, especially if it isn't a Westfield-owned mall you go to. I'm thinking of the Galleria at Sunset in Henderson, Nevada (my future home), where I've been, and which Mom has told me has a small Henderson library branch there. Now, at any mall, I look around, and I wonder who designed the mall, who built it, who created the artwork, all those anonymous people who should be known more.

I'm also interested in insular experiences, such as being a chaperone for Meridith's Grad Nite in 2007. I remember going with her to Valencia High one morning, hanging around until the bell rang, and then seeking out the teacher in charge of Grad Nite, introducing myself and asking if I could be one of the chaperones for it. I was told I could, and I walked in triumph back to the bus stop in front of Ralphs, waiting to go back home. I had woken up a little after 6 for this, and it had been well worth it. Meridith's Grad Nite for me was better than my own Grad Nite because of such amenities as free cookies and cheese cubes and crackers and drinks for the chaperones, as well as salads or chili or breakfast plates either when you got there or at around 2 in the morning. There was also screenings of Deja Vu and then The Queen playing in the theater on Main Street that now houses Great Moments with Mr. Lincoln again, but used to play a 50th anniversary short film hosted by Steve Martin. In that same theater area, amidst all the mementos and models of attractions in the park, there was also a caricaturist drawing the chaperones as well as Disney characters, though by the time I found out about that free opportunity, the reservations list had already been filled up. I still enjoyed watching the guy drawing Disney characters and the chaperones wearing Mickey ear hats. This was my one and only Grad Nite, so I was a fresh faced newbie, but I noticed the veterans, the chaperones sitting in front of the Plaza Inn, next to heat lamps, conversations afloat, and there was one guy sleeping on a long padded bench in the lobby of that theater, so I chatted with his wife a while.

I've also been in pursuit of really good covered fries, and it seems like an insular pursuit. Not necessarily chili-cheese fries, but something different in fries being covered with cheese. Looking at this Wikipedia entry (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cheese_fries), I noticed that there's "pizza fries" in Philadelphia, topped with mozzarella cheese, with pizza sauce on the side. Possibly.

We were at Weinerschnitzel last Saturday, after Mom and Dad picked us up from the movies, and I had "ultimate" chili cheese fries, which were the basic chili-cheese fries with onions sprinkled throughout, though they became too much toward the end, too dominant. When I become a resident of Henderson with easy access to Las Vegas, I don't intend to eat chili-cheese fries or any other kind of covered fries too often to find my ideal combination, but it will be one of my occasional pursuits when I'm there.

Speaking of Las Vegas, the very definition of an insular world there would be the Pinball Hall of Fame on East Tropicana Avenue. You come in, you find your nostalgia, and you play it. There's no frills, no distractions, just the machines that you remember fondly. There's 152 pinball machines, from 1947 to 2009. And besides those, there's 54 arcade machines, including Super Mario Bros., Ms. Pac-Man, and Tetris. I'm not sure if Galaga is also there, but if it is, I'm spending my time right there, ducking and weaving as I always do as I fire, as if the aliens are firing right at me. It's how I play, and it's one of my favorite ways of living in Vegas.

Those are the major examples of my interests in insular worlds, and there are probably more, but I'll bet that those I figure out after having written all this will relate in much the same manner.

It's Not the Jacket; It's the Content.

Very early this morning, a little after 2:30, before I went to bed, I began reading Five Chiefs: A Supreme Court Memoir by retired justice John Paul Stevens, owing to my interest in the Supreme Court (In fact, when the Court convenes on October 3, the first Monday in October as is tradition, it'll be the first time I follow a full term at length, using SCOTUSblog (http://www.scotusblog.com/) for that), and realized that it's not the book jacket I had an issue with when I read The GQ Candidate by Kelli Goff; it was the novel itself.

By the time I got up from a table near the large lobby of Edwards Valencia 12 to wait for Meridith outside the theater that Dolphin Tale 3D was playing at (I saw The Lion King 3D, and more about that tomorrow), I was on page 51 of Five Chiefs. And I had no beef with the book jacket. I slipped it back into center as necessary, and I didn't mind it.

If The GQ Candidate had been that absorbing, I would have not written anything about the book jacket. I was bored with it. The flashbacks to twenty-five years prior were tedious, and I connected not at all to any of the characters. The characters in anything don't even have to be likable for me to connect with them. I enjoy eccentricities, raw charisma, such as Michael Sheen as Castor/Zuse in Tron: Legacy, and entertaining evilness such as Scar in The Lion King. I liked Governor Luke Cooper, black and Jewish and running for the Democratic presidential nomination, and he seemed good-hearted, but very boring.

Stevens had served on the Court from 1975 to last year, and there's a wealth of experience to write about, as he does here, through the five Chief Justices he served, while also giving overviews of the first twelve Chief Justices of the United States before those chapters. He knows greatly of what he writes about, and his is a calm, measured voice, ably giving insight into the inner workings of the Supreme Court, making it accessible for all who are interested, but might not know so much, explaining the process by which cases are chosen to be heard.

No problem with the book jacket here!