September 21, 2005

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Palo Alto Online

Guest Opinion: How 'Bill Rehnquist' blossomed at Stanford, and in bull sessions

by Robert C. Lobdell

With the death of Bill Rehnquist very much in the news and on my mind, I received a call from my son, William, a reporter for the Los Angeles Times. He suggested I write up my recollections of my friendship with the chief justice that began when we were Stanford students.

I read the outpouring of admiration and affection in the national media following his death. The pundits and the experts had done a good job of assessing and evaluating his extraordinary leadership on the court. I agreed a simple piece of personal remembrance might interest readers.

We had a lot in common. We both enrolled at Stanford in 1946 following World War II service in the Army Air Corps (now the Air Force). Both of us were second-generation Swedish-Americans, born in Wisconsin and Minnesota, respectively. Time has blurred my memory when I actually met him at Stanford but our acquaintance came about through a mutual classmate who knew Rehnquist.

We were part of a wave of returning veterans who crammed onto the Stanford campus. Many, like myself, were focused on getting a degree, a job and a paycheck. Many, like myself, could not have attended Stanford but for the GI Bill that entitled veterans to tuition, books and a $65 per month living allowance.

Bill Rehnquist, except for his one-in-a-million intellect, was I suppose typical of the male student returning after the war. He was tall (well over six feet), rangy and awkward. He spoke in a Midwestern manner. He liked to talk; he liked to argue; and he possessed a ready wit and a great sense of humor.

Bill's somber, severe persona on the court belied his real nature. He was upbeat and personable, easy with people. The more you saw the more you liked him. He smiled often and had a deep sense of humility. He was sensitive and utterly without pretence. I always thought it too bad that as chief justice he didn't do a better job on his own image. He definitely was not the forbidding figure his formal appearance conjured.

Yet while he looked very much the typical student, in matters of the mind it was a different story. He had a super keen mind. He drank in everything Stanford had to offer. He was passionate in his beliefs. He definitely didn't like change, even though, ironically, he later presided over a major transformation of the court.

Even liberal critics, such as Professor Lawrence Tribe of the Harvard Law School, have written lovely tributes to his character and leadership. Liberal Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg called him "the best boss I ever had."

What we saw at Stanford served him in good stead as he evolved to lead the U.S. Supreme Court.

While in law school both of us served as resident assistants, or RAs, at Menlo School. The job provided welcome room and board as part of our compensation for presiding over nightly study hours.

An RA had time to study -- and to solve world problems. It was during our bull sessions that I got to know Rehnquist best. There was many a liberal-vs.-conservative argument. He was an instinctual conservative, making his points strongly but without rancor or put-down. He had a winning combination of brains, character and temperament. Sure of himself, he was at the same time self-effacing. I don't know anybody who didn't like him.

Bill went on to finish first in his Stanford Law School class. After a Supreme Court clerkship and marriage, he practiced law in Phoenix, Ariz. I saw him in the early 1950s when he visited Hermosa Beach in Southern California on a social visit with his bride.

I later met him at his law offices in Phoenix when I was there on legal business. Nothing in that meeting suggested what the future would hold for him.

Bill was appointed general counsel of the Justice Department during the Nixon Administration, becoming the chief internal lawyer for the government's legal arm.

In Washington, he once made room on his busy schedule to have a pleasant conversation about law and current affairs. He had a spacious office and gave the impression that he really liked his job -- a position made to order for his intellectual power and his lawyerly skills. He was nominated as a Supreme Court Justice by President Nixon in 1971, beginning a 33-year career in that institution.

President Reagan nominated him as Chief Justice in 1986. The confirmation hearings on both nominations were intense, although they did not reach the level of nastiness of some recent hearings. After "Bill Rehnquist" became Justice and Chief Justice William H. Rehnquist, the days of casual access were over and most of our contacts were by letter. He almost spoke at a conference of the Los Angeles County Bar Association, at my invitation, but he had to cancel.

It was clear this past year that his tenure on the court was coming to a close. I was delighted when he announced to the press he was "not about to retire." I was delighted with his comment. Even a slice of his old wit shone forth when he grumpily snapped, "That's for me to know and you to find out."

Yet the handwriting was on the wall. I wanted to send a personal note before it was too late -- to tell him how pleasant it was to think about the memories of the early days and thank him for the truly magnificent contribution he made to our nation.

Typically, I procrastinated a bit but sent one about two months ago. I like to think he read my note, but it really doesn't matter. I'm sure he was inundated with well wishes near the end.

So many people, like myself, realized that a great man was passing and the Supreme Court would lose a chief justice that history, in its sweep, would likely rank among the icons.

Robert C. Lobdell is the retired vice president and general counsel of the Los Angeles Times and father-in-law of Weekly Publisher Bill Johnson. He resides in Menlo Park and can be e-mailed at rnlobdell@worldnet.att.net.

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