Contents
- Annual Bill of Rights Award DinnerRemarks of Chief Broderick's acceptance of NHCLU Award
A wonderful evening celebrating the years of service by the outgoing Chief Justice John T. Broderick, Jr.
of the New Hampshire Supreme Court.
These remarks were given by Chief Justice Broderick, Jr.
in response to receiving the Bill of Rights award from the
NewHampshire American Civil Liberties Union Foundation.
_________________________
"It is a pleasure to be with you tonight and an honor to received this wonderful award. As it turns out, this is the last time I will be speaking publicly as Chief Justice. Although I am a bit nostalgic about that, I will always be grateful that I had the privilege of public service and the friendship and support of judges and staff throughout New Hampshire. I am also grateful to have been Chief Justice in a state with a bar as distinguished as that which exists in New Hampshire.
The American Civil Liberties Union and the New Hampshire Chapter have a long and storied history. Sometimes you make enemies; sometimes you make change; and sometimes you make history. But whatever the result, the American Civil Liberties Union and this state’s chapter have always mattered. That is one of the reasons I’m so pleased to be here tonight.
You have continually called the constitution to account. You have made certain that no cobwebs formed on the gears of constitutional promises and you have never let the opinion of the moment keep you from your task.
Over the last 50 years the ACLU has appeared as counsel or amicus in more than 550 cases in the United States Supreme Court. Since 1973 when I became a New Hampshire lawyer, the New Hampshire Chapter has appeared more than 30 times in our Supreme Court. The ACLU was involved in the most significant civil rights case of the last century: Brown v. Board of Education. You helped expand the rights of the accused in the 1960’s—from Mapp v. Ohio to Gideon, Escobedo, Miranda, Terry v. Ohio and In re Gault. You helped protect marital privacy rights in Griswold v. Connecticut. In the 1970’s you had your fingerprint on the rights of women in Roe v. Wade; the accountability of the President in United States v. Nixon, and the cruel and unusual nature of the death penalty in Georgia in Furman. In subsequent decades from gay rights, to civil rights, to the right to die, you have made your voices heard and your thoughtful presence felt. Your impact and success continues to this present day.
In New Hampshire you have been involved in civil disobedience cases, death penalty cases, gay rights, education funding and taxation. But in the final analysis, your value should not be judged by your state or national success, although you have enjoyed much, but by the quality and integrity of the issues you raised, the briefs you filed and the arguments you made. The American Civil Liberties Union and the New Hampshire Civil Liberties Union have been vigilant to protect the fundamental rights of our citizens and the intricate fabric of our very republic.
For that, agree or disagree, with your positions you deserve everyone’s gratitude. You certainly have mine. You have always
come prepared to play and the playing field has always been ready
to host you.
I’m not worried about your resolve or preparedness to tackle the tough issues others often ignore or avoid, but I am worried about the playing field. It’s not being maintained and too few people seem interested in its welfare.
Let me see if I can make that larger point with a story.
One February morning two winters ago I flew very early to Washington to attend a memorial service on Capitol Hill for a dear friend who had been a distinguished member of Congress. Someone, frankly, I revered.
My cabdriver that morning was as pleased to see me, as I was to see him. Business at Reagan at that early hour was slow and cabs were scarce. So were customers. As we drove across the Potomac, we continued to talk and he began telling me his story.
Although he spoke with a thick accent, he had been in the United States for almost twenty-five years. He had two daughters who were just children when they arrived here. He now had a granddaughter and he was one proud grandfather. At a stoplight he passed me her picture. She was just as adorable as he said. I told him I had granddaughters, too. We had found common ground.
“My grown children,” he said, “are well educated and have very good jobs.” He was proud of them both. Mostly, he said, he was proud to be an American. “This is the greatest country on earth,” he told me forcefully. “The very best. I’m from the Balkans, and my daughters’ lives here have been so much better. They have been given so much. I love the American people.”
As we turned onto Pennsylvania Avenue with the Capitol Rotunda in the distance, he asked me what I did for a living. I told him I was a judge, an appellate judge. “You have the most important job in your entire government,” he exclaimed, his voice rising and full of admiration. “Your job makes America, America.” I asked him what he meant and why he felt that way. “Courts protect people from government, particularly from its abuses,” he told me. “Without judges,” he said, “little people like me could never be sure if they were really safe, really equal or really free.” A few minutes later, he dropped me near the Capitol. After I paid him, he warmly stretched his right arm over the seat between us to shake my hand. “Good luck to you,” he said, with a wide smile, “it has been an honor to have you in my cab. A real honor.”
I had a little time before I needed to be in Statuary Hall so I walked around the block lost in thought. I had been very touched by the cab driver’s words and by his simple wisdom. My walk took me by the United States Supreme Court. It was still early and there weren’t many people on the sidewalk. So I stopped just to take it in.
As I stood there that morning gazing at the front edifice of the Court, I wondered what American life would be like without it, how the history of the Twentieth Century might have been different if it did not exist and how the real promise of our country could ever be assured without an independent, accessible judiciary. My cab driver this day had put a very human face on it for me. And a very grateful one, too.
After a minute or two, I crossed the street and followed a marked path to the Capitol, just a few hundred yards away. The Congressman, whom I was there to honor that cold winter morning, had survived the Holocaust as a Hungarian Jew. He had been held in forced labor camps and finally escaped. He then worked for the underground before he emigrated to the United States. He arrived here penniless. Through hard work and the generosity of the American people, he got a PhD in Economics.
He was the only Holocaust survivor ever to serve as a member of Congress. He knew firsthand what it was like when no one was there to stop the trains in the middle of the night. The Nazis killed his mother and much of his family. The storied and distinguished life of Congressman Tom Lantos of California was testament in my mind to what my cab driver had told me and to the fundamental obligation of the American justice system.
In our country, the greatest nation in the world, rights matter. Everyone’s rights, no matter their station in life, no matter their income. No matter their circumstances. Guaranteed rights are fundamental to the American identity, fundamental to its core values. That belief is part of the social compact. It’s integral to our Constitution. It’s even chiseled above the threshold of our nation’s highest court: “Equal justice under law.”
It’s something all of us learned in school and sometimes in church or synagogue. We all grew proud of it before we really knew what it meant or how special it was. It’s what American soldiers have died for and one of the many reasons we honor their service. It’s part of our pledge of allegiance: “With liberty and justice for all.” It’s what many of us get up each day to try to ensure. But I wonder, after serving for fifteen years on our state supreme court, dealing with declining budgets and eroding civic knowledge, whether we are keeping faith and whether we really mean it. I ask myself some days whether “equal justice under law” represents a promise or merely a high-minded aspiration without obligation. I have also wondered whether my cab driver gave me more credit that February morning than I deserved and whether I could discharge my judicial oath by assuming that it was someone else’s job to keep the courts vital and accessible.
My cab driver inspired me during my last few years of judicial service. His expectations sustained me in times of discouragement. He knew better than most the critical need for a vital and independent judiciary. He knew our obligations to speak up and speak out for a judicial system that can fulfill the promises of our constitution and he knew firsthand, as did my friend tom Lantos, that silence is not our friend. In all my years as a lawyer and judge I have never witnessed the state courts more imperiled, more at risk. Never has the obligation of the bench and bar seemed clearer to me. The courts are not a nice idea. They are essential to the very survival of our republic and to the near-sacred social compact that formed it. If we do not protect them, they will certainly fail.
Almost all of us in this room tonight have spent our professional lives in the state courts. As I see it, we have an obligation to pass them on to the next generation of Americans in better shape than we found them. We have no time to waste and no excuse should be accepted. So very much is riding on our choices.
Thanks for listening and for your wonderful award."