Supreme Ambitions (17 page)

The next thing I knew, I was standing in front of a three-way mirror in the most beautiful suit I had ever worn in my life. It felt so right—feminine but professional, playful but elegant, classic but not boring. And definitely not funereal (even though, since I had never been to a funeral, I had no idea what funeral dress might look like).

“I overrule all objections, Audrey,” Judge Stinson said, standing behind me and nodding with approval. “It looks sensational.”

I couldn't disagree. It was perfect right off the rack. No alterations needed.

“Peggy,” said Judge Stinson, pulling out her American Express black card and handing it over with a flourish, “we'll take it.”

After effusive farewells from Peggy and her assistant, Judge Stinson and I emerged from the store, shopping bags on both arms. I felt like the Julia Roberts character in
Pretty Woman
after her epic shopping spree.

“So let me tell you about what we have to celebrate,” said the judge, as we walked back toward the garage. “First, Judge Hagman will join us in
Geidner
in voting to uphold Proposition 8. Judge Deleuze will dissent.”

“That's great news!”

“Second, Judge Hagman told me privately, after conference, that he was very impressed by your bench memo. This didn't come as a surprise, given that several of his questions at oral argument were basically taken straight from the bench memo, but it was very nice to hear. You made a difference here, Audrey.”

“Thank you, Judge.”

“Finally, I was so impressed by your work on
Geidner
that I called up Justice Keegan and told him that he simply
had
to interview you …”

I stumbled on the sidewalk, but fortunately righted myself before fall
ing on my rear. I did stop and put down the shopping bags, as did Judge Stinson.

“Oh wow, Judge, thank you!”

“Audrey, don't act so surprised! You've earned my highest recommendation. You did superb work on
Hamadani
, then you outdid yourself with
Geidner
. I told Justice Keegan about your work on
Geidner
—which impressed him, not surprisingly, given his previously expressed views on constitutional issues relating to same-sex marriage. And after Amit told me he was withdrawing his applications for Supreme Court clerkships—he said he wanted to go straight into private practice and start making money—that removed any doubt in my mind that you're the clerk to push to the Court this year.”

“And what did Justice Keegan say?”

“What do you think he said? The Honorable Christina Wong Stinson called to tell him about her best clerk of all time? Of course he wants to interview you!”

The judge reached out to hug me—a surprisingly vigorous hug.

“That's why I wanted to buy you a new interview suit,” the judge said. “To thank you for all your amazing work, and to get you ready for your interview with Justice Keegan. It's an investment in your future and mine—my reputation as a judge is enhanced when I send more clerks to the Court. When we get back to chambers, you need to call the justice's assistant, Mary Katherine, and schedule your interview.”

“Will do, Judge.”

“Also, have Brenda book your plane ticket to D.C. using my frequent flier miles. If you try to buy your ticket now, it would cost a fortune.”

“Thank you, Judge. And thank you again for the suit—it's beautiful.”

“It's classic and conservative, perfect for you to wear to your interview with Justice Keegan. Thoreau once said to beware of all enterprises that require new clothes, but from that assessment I respectfully dissent.”

 

When we returned to chambers, after stopping for lunch at the Polo Lounge, I was hoping to slip into my office unnoticed so I could hide the Armani bags under my desk. No such luck: I bumped into both Amit and James in the hallway outside our offices.

“Well hello there, ‘Pretty Woman,'” James said. “Did Cravath send over a signing bonus?”

“Her name is Audrey, and she's a shopaholic,” Amit said.

“I can explain,” I said, waving them inside my office. I then told them the whole story of how Judge Stinson conscripted me for shopping duty, concluding with the news about my landing an interview with Justice Keegan.

“Congratulations! That's awesome,” James said, with obvious enthusiasm (had we been alone, I bet he would have kissed me). “Good luck. You'll do great. Let me know if you need any help preparing.”

“Congrats,” Amit said, with considerably less enthusiasm. “It's your last clear chance at a SCOTUS clerkship, so don't blow it.”

“What do you mean by that?” I asked—trying to sound nonchalant, but actually concerned.

“Judge Stinson feeds to only two justices on the Court: the two most conservative justices, Keegan and Wilson. Wilson had one slot left for the coming term, but he just filled it.”

“Who got it?” I asked.

“Some girl clerking for a state supreme court,” Amit said, waving his hand dismissively.

The only state-court clerk I knew was Harvetta. But she had never mentioned to me that she was applying for Supreme Court clerkships.

“Oh, and she graduated from a TTT, too,” Amit added.

“What's a TTT?” James asked.

“It stands for ‘third-tier toilet,' and it's used to refer to lower-ranked law schools,” I explained.

“I thought that the justices hired mostly from the elite law schools,” James said.

“Yes, but not Wilson,” said Amit. “Even though he graduated from
U. Chicago himself, he has a soft spot for overachieving TTT grads. Last year, for example, his clerks came from Chicago, Harvard, and two low-ranked state schools. He's weird.”

“Or different,” I said. “That's why so many people admire him. Not many prominent African Americans have the guts to speak out against affirmative action. Not many judges are so critical of stare decisis. Justice Wilson marches to the beat of his own drummer.”

“No, he's just weird,” Amit said. “Another strange thing he does is hire clerks years in advance. Now that he's filled his last spot for next year, he's done with clerk hiring for the next few terms, because he has that odd practice of hiring years ahead of time and allocating his clerks between the different terms to have a balanced chambers each year—male and female clerks, clerks from top schools and TTT schools. So with Wilson out of the picture, Audrey, your upcoming Keegan interview is really your only shot at a SCOTUS clerkship.”

“But people can apply more than once, right?” asked James. “I've heard of people getting Supreme Court clerkships the second or third time around.”

“Yes, but Audrey's situation is different,” Amit said. “She's interviewing with Keegan, and Keegan doesn't interview people twice. He considers himself a good judge of character, so when he passes over a potential clerk after an interview, he doesn't consider that person again, even if that person reapplies. He's a grumpy old man, pushing 80, and that's just how he rolls.”

“How do you know so much about this process?” asked James.

“It's just a subject I follow. And you hear stuff from people, like law school classmates—word on the street.”

Amit and I made brief eye contact. His explanation to James was truthful, but incomplete. Back when Amit wrote Beneath Their Robes, he covered law clerk hiring as closely as TMZ covers celebrity DUI accidents.

“And what's the word on the street about what it's like to interview with Justice Keegan?” I asked Amit.

“It's intense. You meet with the justice for half an hour. Then you meet with the clerks, who grill you about substantive legal issues, focusing on constitutional law. It's a brutal four-on-one interrogation that can go on for two to three hours. And they're also trying to assess your positions on issues, to see if you'd be a good fit with the justice's views—as in, are you conservative enough?”

“Yikes,” I said. “That sounds intimidating.”

“It is,” Amit said. “I don't know how well you'll do, to be honest. You have to remain calm under stress. I imagine it being like the final round of the National Spelling Bee.”

“Or like the final round of a high school debate tournament, where you often won,” said James, coming to my rescue. “Or the final round of moot court in law school.”

“It's not all bad news,” Amit said. “You have two things in your favor going into the interview.”

“I do?”

“First, unlike some of the other justices, Keegan doesn't interview many people. He typically interviews eight to ten people for four spots.”

“Effectively a coin flip,” I said.

“Sure—a coin flip with ridiculously high stakes, the most prestigious and coveted credential a young lawyer can get, the pathway to law firm partnership, high government office, a tenured professorship, maybe even a seat on the Supreme Court itself someday …”

“And what's the second thing in my favor?”

“You're a girl.”

“That
helps
her?” asked James. “I didn't realize Justice Keegan was known for his feminist views.”

“Actually, the reason he likes female law clerks got him in some trouble with some feminist law professors,” Amit said. “Keegan once said in an interview that, all things being equal, he'll pick a female clerk over a male clerk because he sees having a woman in chambers as a ‘civilizing' influence. That remark ticked off some feminists, but if it's true, it's good news for you.”

“So be on your ‘civilized' best behavior, Coyne,” James said.

“Look feminine and conservative,” Amit said. “Wear a skirt.”

“Of course,” I said. “I'll even put on panty hose. I'm leaving nothing to chance.”

That Saturday, I took a break from drafting the
Geidner
opinion to take a driving lesson with Harvetta. I had graduated from the high school parking lot to the quiet side streets near the courthouse.

“How am I doing?” I asked Harvetta, as I drove her Honda slowly down South Grand Avenue.

“Well, you haven't killed anything yet, so that's good.”

“I've never killed anything while driving!”

“Other than the brakes on this car. We're not in the parking lot anymore, so be careful.”

I drove along for a few more blocks, at a slow and cautious pace.

“You can go a little faster,” Harvetta said. “We're about to be passed by that old lady. In a walker.”

I pressed my foot to the gas pedal. The car zoomed forward with unexpected force.

“Audrey, you just blew through a stop sign! Pull over.”

I brought the car to a stop in front of a graceful white colonial and turned off the engine.

“You seem distracted,” Harvetta said, turning to her left to look straight at me. “Even more spacey than usual while driving. What's up?”

Even though we didn't see each other that often, Harvetta had an uncanny ability to read me.

“I have some good news, but it's also making me nervous. I have a clerkship interview with Justice Keegan in two weeks.”

“Shit, that's awesome! Congrats, girl!”

She held her right palm up toward me. After a second or two, I realized what she was going for and high-fived her.

“I'm excited but anxious. His clerkship interviews are supposed to be rough, like an intellectual hazing.”

“That was how my interview with Justice Wilson and his clerks went,” Harvetta said. “They quizzed me on everything from the history of the 14th Amendment to scienter requirements for the securities laws. It was like an intellectual dick-measuring contest. But I survived it, so you can too.”

“Wait,” I said, feeling a tightness in my chest. “You had a clerkship interview with Justice Wilson?”

“Yup. And I got the job! I hope you get the Keegan clerkship. Then we can clerk and hang out in D.C. together!”

“Hold on—you got a clerkship with Justice Wilson?”

Harvetta nodded. So
she
was the unnamed TTT grad and state-court clerk who snagged the last Wilson clerkship.

“Remember when I asked you to look over my résumé because I was applying for ‘government stuff'?” Harvetta asked. “I was applying for SCOTUS clerkships. I got a call from his chambers about a month ago. I had the interview two weeks ago, and I got the offer a few days ago—Justice Wilson's last clerkship slot for the next few years.”

“How come you didn't mention this earlier?”

“We haven't seen each other much lately. And I didn't want to jinx it. And, you know, it's just a job—a job I think I'm gonna love, because I love reading and thinking about the law, but just another job.”

“A Supreme Court clerkship is
not
‘just another job,' Harvie,” I said, trying to regain my composure. “It's immortality. It's acceptance. And it's incredible that you got it!”

Harvetta's eyes narrowed.

“You seem so … surprised. What do you mean by ‘incredible'?”

Uh-oh. Had my tone revealed my surprise—my shock, even—at Harvetta landing a Supreme Court clerkship? I'd had no idea that SCOTUS clerkships were even on her radar. Had any graduate of McGeorge Law
ever clerked for the high court?

“Oh, well, I just didn't know that you had applied,” I said, trying to pick my words carefully, despite the distracting tightness in my chest. “It's just, you know, you're not the typical … Your background is …”

Harvetta frowned.

“You don't need to finish that thought,” she said, holding her pointer finger aloft and waving it in angry circles, like a buzzing bee. “I know the shit that you and your co-clerks talk about people like me. ‘Oh, she went to a TTT law school.' ‘Oh, she's clerking for a fucking state court judge.' Well, here's something you should know: I
love
the law—I live, eat, sleep, and
shit
the law—and I'm pretty fucking awesome at it.”

I remembered the first time I met Harvetta, sitting by the pool reading the
Stanford Law Review
.

“And that's what Justice Wilson looks for in his clerks,” she continued. “Smart people who love the law. And luckily for me, he knows that smart people who love the law can be found everywhere. He's not like Justice Keegan, who's super-ass old and buys into all that conventional-wisdom bullshit about pedigree and prestige. Justice Wilson wants diamonds in the rough. He knows that not all smart people go to Harvard and Yale. Or clerk for federal rather than state judges.”

I nodded vigorously and let Harvetta continue.

“As for my unusual background, that was a plus for him too. Justice Wilson is a black conservative; so am I. Justice Wilson grew up poor, in a single-parent household; so did I. We totally bonded during our interview. And when I interviewed with his clerks, and started schooling
them
on the ratification debates over the Fourth Amendment and the legislative history of the Fair Labor Standards Act, it was a done deal.”

“I'm sorry, Harvetta. I didn't mean to offend you …”

“You have a lot to learn, girl. And not just about driving.”

 

That afternoon, I went into chambers to resume work on the
Geidner
opinion. After working for several hours, I decided to take a break and
called Jeremy—who was, of course, also at work. I wanted to tell Jeremy the news about my interview with Justice Keegan; I knew he'd be pissed if he heard about it through the law-clerk grapevine first. I dialed his internal extension at the courthouse.

“Hey, it's me. Busy?”

“Of course, my dear. It's a Saturday afternoon in the Gottlieb chambers, and there are progressive causes to be championed.”

“Can you spare a few minutes from cause championing?”

“I can spare a few—but just a few, because the judge will be editing one of my opinions soon, and I need to sit there as he goes through it.”

“Okay, meet me outside in front of the courthouse in five.”

I arrived downstairs before Jeremy did, as always, and seated myself on one of the benches in the garden. I could smell the perfume of the white roses and feel the warm sun on my forearms. Despite having spent so much time inside it, the beauty of the Richard H. Chambers Courthouse and its gardens never got old for me. Even though lawyers and judges worked with words, airy and abstract things, we had done a fine job of appropriating societal resources to build magnificent temples of the law for ourselves.

“Hello, Miss Audrey!”

Jeremy and I exchanged a quick hug as he sat down next to me.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asked.

“I have some exciting news to share. I'm interviewing with Justice Keegan in two weeks.”

His face lit up like Christmas. I thought to myself: that's how I should have reacted when Harvetta told me about her Wilson clerkship.

“Oh. My. God! Congratulations!”

“Thanks,” I said. “I wanted to share the news with you myself, before you heard about it through the law clerk rumor mill.”

Jeremy cast his eyes down for a moment, pausing in thought.

“Do you have something to share with me, Jeremy Silverstein?”

“Your mention of the law clerk rumor mill reminded me: I have some info you might want to know.”

“What is it?”

“I heard it a few days ago and I've been going back and forth over whether to tell you. If you didn't also have a Keegan interview, maybe I wouldn't tell you, because it would just demoralize you. But since you do have a Keegan interview, it's actually relevant.”

“Spit it out!”

“So one of my co-clerks is a Harvard Law grad. He's friends with another HLS grad who clerks here in Pasadena with us. And she's also interviewing with Keegan this coming Friday—for his last clerkship, apparently. Which he wants to give to a woman, if possible.”

“So who is it? Stop keeping me in suspense!”

Jeremy put his hand on my knee. This could not be good.

“Lucia Aroldi. The Polanski clerk.”

Lucia Aroldi—the frosty, fashion-challenged HLS grad I had seen in Judge Stinson's waiting room on the day of my interview. I had seen her around the courthouse over the past few months—not that often, because Judge Polanski's clerks seldom left chambers—and she was never friendly.

“Lucia Aroldi—crap,” I said, feeling slightly light-headed. “Excuse my French, but—crap, crap, crap.”

“Yeah, I know, she's a beast. No offense, Miss Audrey, but since she's coming out of the Polanski chambers, Lucia would be the odds-on favorite here. You know that Judge Polanski is the top feeder judge in the country—and that he has sent lots of clerks to Justice Keegan.”

“Yes, Jeremy. I am well aware of his track record.”

“And you know that Lucia was a Marshall Scholar.”

“Yes, Jeremy.”

“And you know that she was the first woman to win the Fay Diploma in a decade.”

“Yes, Jeremy. She was tacky enough to mention that in her law clerk orientation bio—along with her ‘future plans' for ‘world conquest.'”

“This is why I didn't want to mention the news to you. I knew you wouldn't take it well.”

I stood up from the bench, dislodging Jeremy's hand from my knee, and turned around to face him.

“No, it's fine,” I said, starting to pace back and forth. “I'm glad you told me. I should know who I'm up against. Even if I'm David and she's Goliath.”

“Well, maybe David versus Goliath isn't a bad comparison,” Jeremy said, a half-smile playing across his face. “You might have a better shot of toppling Lucia than you think.”

“Really? You think I can somehow beat out the top graduate from Justice Keegan's alma mater for a clerkship with him? He's a Harvard Law grad himself, and he loves to hire Fay Diploma winners. I'm toast.”

“On paper, yes, she's a perfect fit with Keegan. But I'm not so sure that she … would fit so well in his chambers, in terms of what he's looking for.”

“Why wouldn't she? He's looking for a clerk who's brilliant. She's brilliant. He's looking for a woman …”

“And so is she, according to my gossipy co-clerk.”

“Are you saying—Lucia is gay?”

“That's what people at HLS speculated. She didn't date in law school—too busy studying—but people called her ‘Lesbia Aroldi' behind her back. And all the other LGBT clerks here think she's one of us too. I don't mean to propagate stereotypes, but she does look rather butch, doesn't she?”

“That is true,” I said, recalling her mannish haircut and masculine swagger.

“So if Keegan is looking for that ‘civilizing' female influence in chambers, I'm not sure Lucia fits the bill. And given how old and conservative he is, and how outspoken he is about the ‘homosexual agenda,' I don't think he'd love to have a lesbo in chambers either.”

“But we're not
sure
about this, right? And even if we were, there's not really anything that I can do about it, is there? I'm not about to go in for my Keegan interview and out her—‘Oh, you should hire me because the other woman you're interviewing is a big old lesbian!'”

“Oh no, you wouldn't
dare
out a gay person,” Jeremy said. “You and your boss just want to deny us our constitutional right to marry. How's
Geidner
coming along?”

I stuck my tongue out at Jeremy and mock-kicked his shin.

“It was the people of California who voted against gay marriage, when they passed Proposition 8. And the fate of Prop 8 is now in the hands of three federal judges.”

“One of whom wants to sacrifice the rights of gay Americans on the altar of her boundless personal ambition. Who wants to uphold Prop 8 in a barn-burning opinion that will raise her profile among social conservatives and advance her candidacy for the Supreme Court.”

“You're being unfair. Judge Stinson might not agree with you on gay marriage, but I can assure you—based on months of working with her closely—that she's a good person and a good judge. There's a reason she enjoys such an excellent reputation as a judge. There's a reason she's being considered for the Court.”

“Well, I can think of several reasons she's being considered. She's Asian. She's a woman. She's young. And she's a hack.”

“And so is your boss—a results-oriented judge who twists the law to advance his political agenda. But you don't see me going around saying that.”

“Actually, you just did. And you and Stinson said as much in
Hamadani
, when responding to our dissent and the en banc call.”

“So is
that
what this is about? About you being a sore loser over how Judge Stinson and I trounced you and Judge Gottlieb in a high-profile case?”

“No, what it's really about is you being blinded by your own ambition—just like your boss. You can't—or won't—see Stinson's failings as a judge, because she's your ticket to a Supreme Court clerkship. You've hitched your wagon to her star—and you won't unhitch, even if the star turns out to be an ugly-ass asteroid.”

“Say what you will about Judge Stinson, but she's gorgeous. Even a gay man like yourself should be able to see that.”

“Jeez. Is that what you're reduced to—defending your boss because she's a judicial hottie? Even though she's a lazy judge who, as you've admitted to me before, depends heavily on her clerks and barely edits what you write for her?”

“For someone who has been clerking for several months now, you have a very naïve view of the judicial role. Hardly any judges draft their own opinions—not even justices of the Supreme Court. A modern-day judge is a CEO. She exercises her
judgment
to make the big decisions. The details can and should be left to us, the law clerks.”