It was as if they were dangling from the ceiling. Young people were leaning over the balconies, crowding the staircases, packing the hallways and squeezing into the floor space where chairs were arranged in tight rows in the atrium of the University of Denver Sturm College of Law.
They had come to see not Kanye West or the Fray, but a white-haired woman with a law degree.
The term “role model” comes easily, but even a bunch of 20-somethings knew that retired Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O’Connor is the real deal.
For former Colorado Supreme Court Justice Rebecca Love Kourlis, O’Connor’s visit to Denver last week was “a couple days I’ll never forget.”
Her husband had tried to explain its significance to their son, she said, by saying, “She’s mom’s Michael Jordan.”
Exactly.
I listened as Kourlis spoke of O’Connor’s intellect, her humanity, her integrity, her courage, and tears came to my eyes.
I couldn’t help it.
She rocked our world.
For the younger people who might not understand, O’Connor told the story of her first job.
She had just graduated “With Great Distinction” third in her class at Stanford University Law School. It was 1952; she was 22 years old; and nobody would hire her because she is a woman.
Amid the rejections and the refusals even to grant her an interview, she contacted the San Mateo County (Calif.) attorney, who instead of just coming out and saying he didn’t want to hire a woman, said he didn’t have any money or office space available.
“I wrote a long letter telling him what I could do for him, and I said I was willing to work for a while for nothing,” she said. She told him she could share space with his secretary, “and that was the deal we struck.”
Her first job was as a deputy county attorney with no office, working for free.
That letter now is on display in the museum in Redwood City.
The students sought her advice on becoming a judge, asked her what it was like to go through the grueling confirmation process to become the first woman on the Supreme Court, and her opinion of the recent expansion of presidential powers.
One student asked if she had any regrets about retiring, particularly in light of the change in the balance on the court.
“No,” she said. “I stepped down because my husband has Alzheimer’s and needed care. I did what I should do. We’ve been married 54 years. His needs came first.”
The room thundered with applause.
Here was that rarest of celebrities in the 21st century: an extraordinary achiever with her humanity intact.
“There’s a part of us that is just magnetized by someone like her,” said Kourlis. “Throughout all of her accomplishments and honors, she has retained a kind of brass- tacks, very comfortable humanity that is truly extraordinary.”
So is her courage.
“It took immense courage for her to accept that position in the first place knowing the many personal sacrifices she would have to make,” Kourlis said about becoming a Supreme Court justice.
And her opinions, from Planned Parenthood vs. Casey in 1992 to her vote in Bush vs. Gore in 2000, generated savage criticism.
O’Connor made reference to the simmering hostility toward the courts when she accepted the first Transparent Courthouse Award from Kourlis’ Institute for the Advancement of the American Legal System on Wednesday evening.
Of the three branches of government, “it’s fallen to the courts to ensure individual rights as protected by the Constitution,” O’Connor said to the roomful of judges, a certain governor and a legislator or two.
“That irritates the other branches,” she said. “If it didn’t, they wouldn’t be doing their jobs.”
But they should never be subject to retaliation by the other branches.
It’s this political attack on the courts that has brought Kourlis and O’Connor together.
They both believe passionately in a healthy, independent, competent justice system of the highest integrity, and they’ve both decided to devote their careers to ensuring that.
It’s a big job, Kourlis said. At times it feels overwhelming. “But you chew an elephant one bite at a time.”
Sometimes a revolution starts with just one woman.
Diane Carman’s column appears Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday. Reach her at 303-954-1489 or dcarman@denverpost.com.
