“Damnit, he was right, and he was right before anyone else’”
“Just as I thought, you want to be a star. That makes you dangerous because the quickest way to be noticed is to ignore precedent and strike out on your own.”
“I respect the past, but I’m not irrevocably bound by it. Jurisprudence must recognize that the law changes with society. All the great justices, Holmes included, did just that.”
The chief looked toward the back wall, where a sculpted marble frieze depicted a winged female figure of Divine Inspiration flanked by Wisdom and Truth. “When Teddy Roosevelt finally appointed Holmes to the Court, the Great Dissenter was sixty-one, which is what, fifteen years older than you. He’d been a Civil War soldier, a lawyer, a professor, and a judge in Massachusetts who’d already written a thousand opinions. He was the foremost legal mind in the country. He’d been tempered by experience, and I assure you of this, when he taught at Harvard, he didn’t prance around the stage like some”-the chief justice searched for a phrase-“some vaudeville comedian.”
Vaudeville? This guy probably thinks Bob Hope is a bright new comic.
“John Jay was only forty-three when Washington appointed him the first chief justice,” Truitt said.
Whittington grinned, as if he’d just filled an inside straight. “I knew John Jay. John Jay was a friend of mine. And trust me, Sam, you’re no John Jay… or Oliver Wendell Holmes, either.”
“I get the point,” Truitt said. “You don’t like my style.”
“I don’t give a dog’s dick about your style! All I care about is the Court. This isn’t a classroom or a burlesque hall. Don’t expect to hear applause or be rewarded with adulation. And don’t be impatient about writing opinions. You know I give the assignments.”
“Only when you’re in the majority.”
“When it counts, I make it my business for the majority to be with me. With all the different factions diluting the voice of the Court, we’re weakened as an institution. You’re way out there, and I predict a string of showy one-man dissents aimed at your Harvard Square and New Republic friends.”
“I suppose having eight other justices is a real nuisance,” Truitt said, measuring his words. “It would be a lot more efficient if you could just decide every case, maybe assign the opinions to one of your admirers.”
Whittington barked out a laugh. “Well, you don’t scare easy, I’ll give you that.” He looked around, as if someone might be watching, but the courtroom was deserted. “I like you, Sam. As a man, I like you. Hell, you and Curtis Braxton are the only judges I’ve got who can break walnuts in your fists or chop down a tree with a one- handed axe. Maybe someday you and I should Indian wrestle to decide a vote. Or should I say, ‘Native American wrestle,’ so as not to offend your sensibilities?”
“Chief, just out of curiosity, how long are you planning to bust my chops?”
“Not long, Sam. Ten or fifteen years at most. And in case you’re thinking this old billy goat is going to retire before then, I’ll remind you that Holmes was still on the Court at ninety-one, Bill Douglas they had to push out of here in his wheelchair. I never cared much for Douglas’s seat-of-the-pants jurisprudence, but he was a tough monkey. Christ, after his stroke, he drooled on the briefs, but he was there voting at conference, irritating the hell out of his chief.”
I think I’m auditioning for that part.
“Douglas used to call Warren Burger ‘Dummy’ behind his back,” the Chief continued. “When Douglas was too ill to read the briefs, a clerk asked him how he’d be able to vote. You know what he said?”
“‘I’ll wait to see how the Chief votes and then vote the other way,’” Truitt said, figuring it might be a good strategy for him, too.
“You got it,” Whittington said, nodding.
The conversation had wound down, and the Chief looked as if he was ready to dismiss the younger man. As he turned to leave he said, “Stop by my chambers this afternoon for the formal orientation and a glass of brandy.”
“I’m still interviewing for my final law clerk,” Truitt said.
“My assistant will call you,” the Chief said, as if he hadn’t heard. Or cared. He turned back toward the junior justice. “One other thing, Sam. I read the FBI files on you. It’s all hearsay, double hearsay, and innuendo, of course, but you have a reputation as having an eye for the ladies.”
An eye for the ladies. Vaudeville. Burlesque. Maybe I should crank up my Model T.
“Now, in my younger days,” Whittington said, “I cut a pretty wide path through the hay field, so I understand. I don’t care if you were humping one-legged midgets in Faneuil Hall, but you’re on my Court now. The Court of Jay, Marshall, Taney…”
And Whittington.
“I don’t know what you’re getting at Chief, but I think you’re way off base.”
The chief justice ignored him and plowed ahead. “Your father-in-law’s an old friend. I don’t agree with his politics, but he’s a fine poker player. You never would have been appointed without him, and you sure as hell never would have been confirmed.”
“Senator Parham’s retired,” Truitt said.
“He still has friends on both sides of the aisle. So, it seems to me, a young man like you, a man who married into a prominent family, owes something to his wife, Sam.”
Truitt reddened with anger. He fought the urge to grab the chief by the lapels and tell him to mind his own business. “Chief, I’d appreciate it if you and I could confine our conversation to Court business,” he said, grimly.
“This is Court business! Frankfurter once said that the Court had no excuse for its existence unless it is a monastery. Now, he meant that we should be isolated from outside influences, but I think the analogy extends to personal lives, too. Do you follow me, Sam?”
Like a duck behind its mother.
“With all due respect, Chief, I think you’re out of line.”
“Can’t I get a simple yes from you, Justice Truitt?” the chief justice snapped.
“Yes, sir,” Truitt replied, feeling like a noncom responding to a superior officer. “I know how to comport myself, and I don’t need anyone to remind me.”
“Don’t use that tone with me! Can’t you see I’m trying to help you? You’ve got enemies out there, and if you screw up, they’ll ship your ass back to your ivy-covered tower.”
“Then I should thank you for your guidance,” Truitt said, gritting his teeth, getting the message.
If I roll over for the Chief, give him my vote, he’ll toss me a line, drag me out of the deep water. If I don’t, he’ll let sharks like Senator Blair and the Family Values Foundation devour me.
“You’re welcome,” Whittington said. “Good to have you aboard. You have my full support, but if you ever do anything to bring disrespect on this Court…”
The Chief paused, his eyes aflame, his smile menacing. “I’ll have your dick on the chopping block before you can zip up your fly.”
IN THE UNITED STATES DISTRICT COURT FOR THE SOUTHERN DISTRICT OF FLORIDA
Miami Division
Case No. 96-00148-CIV-Schenkel
GLORIA LAUBACH, individually and as personal representative of the
Estate of Howard J. Laubach, deceased, et al.
Plaintiffs, v. ATLANTICA AIRLINES, INC., a Delaware corporation, Defendant.
ORDER GRANTING DEFENDANT’S MOTION FOR SUMMARY JUDGMENT
Defendant Atlantica Airlines, Inc. (“Atlantica”) has moved for summary judgment on two grounds as to the wrongful death claims asserted against it by Plaintiffs in these consolidated actions.
Procedural Background
This action arises from the devastating crash of Atlantica Flight 640 in the Florida Everglades in December 1995. Howard J. Laubach was one of the 288 persons on that flight, all of whom died. In January 1996, Mrs. Laubach, acting as personal representative of her husband’s estate, filed this action in the Eleventh Judicial Circuit Court in and for Dade County, Florida. Atlantica timely removed the action to this Court pursuant to 28 U.S.C. 1332
