Washington – At the end of the first week of the Supreme Court’s new term, the justices assembled to discuss the week’s cases and, following protocol, Chief Justice John Roberts stated his own views first. Then, in keeping with the court’s tradition for the justices-only conference, the new chief called on the others, one by one.
He did so in order of seniority, referring to his colleagues in the most formal terms. First, “Justice Stevens,” followed by “Justice O’Connor,” and then “Justice Scalia.”
Justice Antonin Scalia interrupted. “I will always call you ‘Chief,”‘ he said. “But to you, I’m ‘Nino,’ and this is Sandra, and this is John.”
This vignette, described by Justice Clarence Thomas at a judicial conference in Colorado Springs late last month, is deliciously revealing of a Supreme Court in the midst of a generational shift.
John Roberts was a 25-year-old law clerk and John Paul Stevens was beginning his fifth year as a Supreme Court justice when the two first met. In the 25 years that followed, the younger man became a familiar figure to the justices as he appeared before them dozens of times, building a reputation as one of the most skilled and sought-after Supreme Court practitioners.
But by their very nature, those courtroom meetings were not meetings of equals. Now when John Roberts joins the other justices on the bench or around their conference table, he is not only their equal, but first among them.
Although Roberts has appeared at ease in the courtroom from the moment he took his seat on the first Monday in October, the transition can only have been dizzying. Just months ago, he was a court of appeals judge who took the subway to work. Now he is called for each morning and delivered home at night in a Supreme Court car.
By his choice, it is an ordinary car, a sport utility vehicle, in contrast to the limousine used by his predecessor, Chief Justice William Rehnquist. The limousine has gone the way of the four gold stripes that the “old chief,” as the late chief justice is now almost universally referred to within the court, had added to each sleeve of his judicial robe. Still, the car and driver is a perquisite enjoyed by none of the other justices, who drive themselves to work in their own cars.
If an institution can be said to have a mood, the court’s is almost palpably cheery.
One court official commented after Tuesday morning’s session, “They’re loose on the bench and they’re loose behind the bench.”
The explanation for the court’s mood is no mystery. It is relief. The justices who lived through the long year of Rehn quist’s battle with thyroid cancer are survivors of a collective trauma, the dimensions of which are obvious only in retrospect.
The justices knew no more about his condition and prognosis than did the rest of the country. At their final conference on June 27, he said nothing, and no one asked.
The justices went their separate ways for the summer. The next time they gathered again as a group, they were standing by his coffin in the court’s Great Hall.