No. This is not going to be one of those highfalutin, gooey discussions that you might hear at a law school. I don't know enough about law to know whether there's anything majestic about it. I know that a few weeks ago, I broke a law, and as a result, got a $110.00 speeding ticket. As I wrote the check out to The City of Jefferson, I didn't see anything majestic about the law. At my level of living, law is a practical thing; not a thing of beauty. But the phrase "The Majesty of the Law" does mean something to me, because I met Sandra Day O'Connor, retired justice of the U. S. Supreme Court, a few weeks ago.
I do not generally have much to do with U. S. Supreme Court justices. Actually, that's an understatement. I have nothing to do with any government official above the level of mayor. But Justice O'Connor was a guest of The Missouri Bar, giving the keynote speech at the National Summit on Defending Merit Selection, which the bar sponsored.
I didn't know much about Justice O'Connor, except what I have read in newspapers over the years. I also knew that she had written a book, The Majesty of the Law. Excuse my cynicism, but I was of the impression that anyone who could write a book with that title was full of hot, self-glorifying air. I was completely, 100 percent wrong.
I was expecting someone with an inflated ego and a top-heavy sense of self-worth. After all, she is the first woman to have sat on the U. S. Supreme Court. She led the way for thousands of other women in the legal profession. The articles I've read about her note the significance and quality of her legal opinions and her impact on our country's laws. When she was nominated to the Supreme Court, every senator voted in her favor.
I watched closely as the team of secret service agents escorted Justice O'Connor to the reception that was to precede her speech. She walked slowly and with a bit of difficulty. She does not rely on a cane or other people to support her, but it's clear that walking at age 81 takes a lot of effort for her. She has white hair and large eyes. When she speaks, she speaks with certainty and without reservation.
I won't dwell on how kind she was to the people she met. How she didn't mind them having their pictures taken with her; how she clearly enjoyed meeting, mingling, and talking with a group of lawyers who had come to hear her. She ate dinner at a table with the president of The Missouri Bar, his wife, and an assortment of other bar leaders. As people started their desserts, John Johnston, who was president of the bar then, introduced her.
Rather than tell you the content of her speech, I will focus on how she said it. She didn't lecture; she talked. She didn't talk about legal theories; she talked about her experiences -- about how she entered politics, how she ran for judge, how she was eventually appointed to the U. S. Supreme Court. She told stories. There was not a false or insincere note in her speech. It was direct. It was an 81-year-old saying here is what I saw during my life and what I experienced. Because her life had so much to do with courts and laws, she spoke with an intense and undeniable authority on the importance of justice in our lives and the life of our nation.
Now, there is nothing exceptional in that description of her speech. Lots of people speak honestly and from experience. What is exceptional -- was her effect on everyone in the audience. Imagine being in the audience when a great musician grabs hold of an audience and won't let go until the final note. Or when a great teacher has made difficult to grasp ideas seem as simple as child's play. You know that you are experiencing something special and you feel privileged. That is exactly how each person felt in that room in St. Louis. I confess -- that after hearing her speech -- I still do not know whether the law is majestic or not -- but I have no doubt that there is something majestic about Justice Sandra Day O'Connor.