Southern Discomfort

been six one; and back when he served two terms on the district bench sometime in the late seventies, he must've weighed two-forty easy.

My sister-in-law Minnie was the closest thing I had to a campaign manager when I ran for judge, and since Carly Jernigan had been Minnie's mother's oldest brother, his widow thought it'd be nice to pass his robe on to me.

'I'm real sorry about the smell,' Miss Abby apologized the day she and Minnie brought it over to Aunt Zell and Uncle Ash's house, where I live.

A homemade potpourri of rose petals and heartleaves fills a Chinese bowl that sits atop a Queen Anne chest amid the formality of Aunt Zell's pink and green living room, but its delicate fragrance was blotted up by coarse mothball fumes the minute I opened the long fiberboard coat box.

'I've had that thing hanging on my back porch for a week,' said Miss Abby. 'Ever since Minnie told me you were going to be appointed. I'm afraid it'll have to get dry-cleaned before you can stand to wear it, though.'

After pricing new robes in a catalog of judicial accoutrements that a soon-to-be colleague had loaned me, a dry-cleaning bill was nothing; and I sincerely meant it when I told Miss Abby how much I appreciated her generosity.

Nevertheless, a faint aroma of naphthalene still met my nose whenever Aunt Zell shifted the robe from one arm to the other as we bowed our heads that afternoon for Barry Blackman's invocation. Barry is pastor at Bethel Baptist Church. Sweetwater Missionary Baptist was actually my home church, but the new minister had only been there two months whereas I'd known Barry forever—in fact, he was the first boy I'd ever kissed for real—so it was nice that I could get him to come pray God's blessing on my new career without hurting anybody's feelings. (Politics makes you sensitive to stuff like that.)

We'd already been called to order by Ellis Glover, Colleton County's clerk of court, and we'd been welcomed by Pete Taylor, current president of the county bar association.

Programs rustled up and down the aisle as Barry said Amen and returned to his seat in the old jury box. My brother Haywood's Stevie was videotaping the ceremony and he took advantage of the momentary stir to switch camera angles.

Ellis came back to the microphone set up in front of the high carved bench where the Honorable Frances Tripp reposed in unselfconscious dignity. Forever a politician, Ellis spent the next ten minutes recognizing just about everybody in the audience. He began with the elected: two state representatives, four judges, the sheriff, three mayors, a police chief, six county commissioners, four members of the school board, and the register of deeds.

(If Colleton County ever goes back to electing dog catchers or town criers, our clerk of court will recognize them, too.)

We clapped for two preachers, the head of the Democratic Women, the head of the Democratic Men, the leader of the county's Black Caucus, the president of the local Jaycees, a fire chief, the dean of our local community college, and somebody from the state auditor's office who had innocently wandered over from Raleigh on other business and now had to wait till I was sworn in before courthouse routine would return to normal.

After at least a third of the crowd had stood for polite applause, Ellis asked anxiously, 'Now did I miss any body?' No one leaped up, so he said, 'Then how 'bout I ask for all of Miss Knott's family to stand and be recognized?'

There was a slight hesitation, then another third of the audience got up—all my brothers and their wives and children, cousins, aunts and uncles and finally, from his seat beside me, my father, like an Old Testament patriarch, still vigorous and straight-backed even though his hair was silvered by more than eighty years of hard living.

Running for district judge was not Daddy's idea of what his only daughter should be doing with her life. Not ladylike enough. Not by a long shot. But back in his younger days he'd been one of the biggest bootleggers in eastern North Carolina and when an anonymous mud-slinger started linking my reputation to his towards the end of my campaign, he changed his attitude. Far as he was concerned, judging the scum of the district might not be a ladylike occupation, but by damn, nobody else but him better try to tell me I couldn't do it. He'd even pulled strings to get me appointed after a disastrous runoff primary last month.

I was still a little sensitive about that.

'Will you just quit it?' scolded the pragmatist that lives in the back of my skull. 'Half the judges on the bench today were first appointed. It's not like your daddy ever killed anybody to put you here.'

'Then how come he knows where so many political bodies are buried?' asked the preacher who shares the same skull space.

A valedictory tone in Ellis's voice brought me back to attention. '—of the North Carolina Court of Appeals will administer the oath of office.'

Down from the high bench came Judge Frances Tripp, a majestically tall black woman who moves with such solemn deliberation it always comes as a surprise to realize there’s an infectious sense of the ridiculous down below. A narrow ruffle of white lace banded her neck above her dark robe, and she looked like Justice personified.

We met her at the microphone and Daddy held out my mother's Bible. I placed my right hand on the worn black leather, lifted my left, and listened attentively as Judge Tripp said, 'Do you, Deborah Stephenson Knott, solemnly and sincerely swear that you will support the Constitution of the United States; that you will be faithful and bear true allegiance to the State of North Carolina, and to the constitutional powers and authorities which are or may be established for the government thereof; and that you will endeavor to support and maintain and defend the Constitution of the said State, not inconsistent with the Constitution of the United States, to the best of your knowledge and ability; so help you God?'

'I do,' I said firmly.

'Furthermore, do you solemnly and sincerely swear that you will administer justice without favoritism to anyone or to the State; that you will not knowingly take, directly or indirectly, any fee, gift, gratuity or reward whatsoever, for any matter or thing done by you or to be done by you by virtue of your office, except the salary and allowances by law provided; and that you will faithfully and impartially discharge all the duties of Judge of the District Court Division of the General Court of Justice to the best of your ability and understanding, and consistent with the Constitution and laws of the State, so help you God?'

The words flowed over me like the sanctified anointment of some sweet-smelling oil.