Justice Seymour F. Simon 1915-2006 Gail Heriot

“How is it possible to live 91 years and still die an untimely death?” asks the Chicago Sun-Times.

Well, you d have to know Justice Simon to understand. He was a tornado of energy. I remember scurrying to keep up with him as we walked down Dearborn Street together. It s hard to believe that much energy could be stopped by anything. Even death.

The Sun-Times obit described Simon as “a legendary figure in Chicago politics and the judiciary.” The article in the Chicago Tribune called him “an independent political mind,” who “sparred with everyone from Mayor Richard J. Daley to his fellow Illinois Supreme Court justices” in the course of a career “that took him through all three branches of government.”

Simon was the most genial of warriors. And I, his clerk from 1981 to 1982, adored him. I would happily have remained his clerk the rest of my life. It wasn t that I always agreed with him on legal issues. He was a liberal s liberal, and I was already a bit of a conservative. But so much of what I know about law and being a lawyer came from Simon. There is no one on Earth I admire more.

By the way, he was also my first client. Sort of. He showed up for work one Monday morning, and announced that he wanted me to represent him in traffic court. Over the weekend, he had received a parking ticket for parking on the grass at some public event. But he had a good excuse: The parking lot was full and a uniformed police officer had directed him (and apparently a number of others) to park on the grass. The ticket was an injustice, and Seymour Simon didn t like injustices. (Even small ones. He was proud of the fact that he was responsible for abolishing pay toilets at O Hare Airport.)

Fighting parking tickets in Chicago was notoriously easy in those days. (It probably still is.) All you had to do was show up in traffic court. If you did, you won. But I nevertheless took my role as attorney seriously. Well … semi-seriously. On the appointed day, I wore my most lawyerly outfit and escorted my illustrious client into the traffic court building. Once there, people greeted him as if he were a member of the royal family. I thought to myself: This may be the easiest first case in the history of the legal profession. I was incorrect.

Suddenly, the only thing that could go wrong did. A well-meaning, chubby-faced man in a dowdy suit came hurrying up behind us and said, “Justice Simon, Justice Simon, what are you doing here? Can I help you!” When Justice Simon told him that we needed to be directed to the proper courtroom, he asked us to follow him. But instead of taking us to the courtroom, he took us to his cramped little office, where he ripped the ticket in two and told Simon not to worry about a thing. “It s all taken care of,” he said. It looked like I had won my first case–just not in the way I’d expected.

We were both a bit surprised, but Justice Simon thanked the man, and we left. As soon as we got out of the building, Simon said something like, “That was a terrible mistake. I know that guy. Before the end of the day he ll be bragging to somebody about how he fixed a ticket for me. I need to write out a check and get it to him immediately.” And he sat down and wrote out a check.

Somehow, I d lost a case that was impossible to lose. My legal batting average had instantly gone from 1.000 to zero. They don’t come any worse than that.  I hope I ve made up for it with subsequent clients and causes. If not, it is surely the fault of the student and not of her instruction.  In Justice Simon, I had the best of teachers.