Sarah Weddington

If I were asked what was the defining moment thus far in my legal career, I would now be able to answer: driving one of the country's leading feminist and greatest legal minds to the airport.

Sarah Weddington, the winning attorney in Roe v. Wade, was the speaker the Women's Law Forum had been working all year to bring to the University of Oregon School of Law. The Women's Law Forum director, Katie, had gotten the funding and approval to bring Dr. Weddington over a year in advance of the scheduled presentation date. This event was her baby, and all of the Women's Law Forum Executive Board members, myself included, were excited. But we had no idea what Dr. Weddington would be like.

When bringing a nationally recognized speaker to a law school like ours - not as highly ranked, in a smallish town in Oregon - one never knows what to expect. She could have been harsh and unyielding or standoffish and alloof. To our great surprise and delight, she was one of the kindest, most thoughtful people I have ever met.

As the Public Relations Officer for the Women's Law Forum, I had been advertising the law school listserv all week about the event, which was to happen from 5:00 to 6:00 in the evening, with a book signing before and a catered reception to follow. I was careful to refrain from specifying in the emails whether Dr. Weddington would be attending the reception, as she was not contractually obligated to do so. When I arrived at the event - in my favorite suit, of course - Katie told me Dr. Weddington would not only be joining us for the reception, but that she would also be taking the entire Executive Board of the Women's Law Forum out to dinner. I had had plans with friends afterwards, but needless to say, I changed them.

I bought my copy of Dr. Weddington's memoir, "A Question of Choice," from the table outside the room where Dr. Weddington would be speaking, and waited, admittedly not very patiently, with the rest of the Executive Board members. I say not very patiently because Dr. Weddington took the time to not only sign the books, but to write a personalized message for each person in the line, which I discovered when my turn came (along with the guilt for my previous inpatience). In her Texas drawl, Dr. Weddington asked how to spell my name (with a K, not a C) and whether I was an executive board member. I replied in the affirmative, and told her it had been my job to send the emails to the listserv. As she wrote the message, she asked me if I spelled email with or without a hypen, and I told her without, though I should know, as I was on law review. Her message was: "Yeah for all of your emails and your law review, I hope you enjoy this book!” with the date and her name.

Dr. Weddington’s presentation made us all realize the true value of a good storyteller. She began her speech with what she later characterized as “softer material,” speaking to some of her experiences after Roe. She told us the story of wearing on a plane a button that had a picture of a coat hanger with an x through it to symbolize the end to back alley abortions. She said the flight attendant would walk by and “she would looook at that button, and she would walk by again and loooook at that button, and finally she stopped and asked me, ‘Now what have you got against coat hangers?’” Dr. Weddington told us how she always tells her students these days how important it is to be nice to everyone, and naturally there was a story behind that philosophy. Before Dr. Weddington came to argue Roe before the Supreme Court of the United States in 1973, she was a young female attorney in Texas looking for a job. She interviewed at a firm where all the partners were men. They told her, “We can’t hire you because we need to be able to cuss out new attorneys, and you’re a woman so we can’t do that!” She responded, “I think we can work something out.” They told her, “We can’t hire you because we work long hours and women need to be home in the evenings to make the meals!” She responded, “I think we can work something out there too.” Needless to say, they didn’t hire her. Many years later, when she was serving in the Carter administration, one of the partners who interviewed her applied for a federal judgeship. There were three people in the administration who had to sign off on his candidacy, and she was one of them. She went to President Carter and told him, “If you make me I will sign off on this but I don’t want to if I don’t have to.” President Carter told her she was free to make her own decisions. Needless to say, that partner did not become a federal judge.

Dr. Weddington told us of her experiences before the Supreme Court in Roe – the somberness of the procession of the judges from their chambers through the heavy red velvet curtains, preceded by the “Oyez Oyez Oyez” of the bailiff, the royal-like colors, the solid marble and the gold gild of the nation’s highest court. She told us of her basis of the right to privacy in Baird and Eisenstadt, as well as in the penumbras of the many of the amendments contained in the Bill of Rights (as one of the Justices said, locating the right of privacy wherever the Justices could find it.) And then she told us about her thoughts for the future. Sarah (as she later insisted the members of the board call her) told us of her fear for Justice Ginsberg’s health, her hopes that the court will gain Justices who are women or minorities, her hopes that the women of my generation will not allow the freedoms of Roe to be eroded. Women of my generation, she asserted, perhaps did not feel as strongly about the issue, because they had never known a time when abortion was not legal, not obtainable, but that we must fight to keep from losing the right altogether. The more I thought about it, the more I realized how right she was – I had always taken it for granted that I would have the right to choose. I realized how lost I would feel if that right were taken away. My generation must fight to ensure that it does not happen.

Sarah closed the presentation by telling us about the memorabilia in her office.

“If you come to my office in Texas, you’ll see a hand-made goose quill pen framed on my wall. When you argue in the Supreme Court, they leave that on your desk as a souvenir for having argued in the Supreme Court, as so few lawyers ever have that opportunity. Above that is a color photograph of the justices on the bench in 1973, signed by each of them. When you win a case in the Supreme Court, you can send in a photograph and the justices will sign it. People often ask me, ‘Will the judges still sign a photograph if you’ve lost in the Supreme Court?” and I reply, “I don’t know. I’ve never lost.”

After her presentation came the reception. I spent the first few minutes running through the law school commons (without my heels) carrying the heavy but gorgeous floral arrangements we had placed in the class room up to the fourth floor. When I finally got my share of cedar planked salmon and crab cakes, I chatted with a couple of fellow law students and watched how Sarah attracted people to her like flies to honey. She made a point of circulating around the room so even those too shy to approach her would have the opportunity to meet her and ask questions. After a few hours, as the food and the guests steadily depleted, Sarah had the remaining students gather around so we could chat with her about women’s rights and how far they have (or have not) come.

And after that, she took the board members to dinner.

I say took because she very graciously paid for the meal at the end. She listened intently as we all discussed professors and classes to take for the next year. When the subject changed, I used the pause to ask her what advice she had for us about networking. A few people caught their breath, thinking I was asking for contacts – I clarified by saying, “I don’t mean names, just if you have any advice on how to use networking to our advantage – right now it feels kind of distasteful, as though our merit doesn’t count.” She told us that it helped her to look at it as an exchange, between two people – while they may be doing something for you now, you’ll be able to do something for them later. That helped me tremendously. Lately I’ve been feeling somewhat put off by the whole “It’s not what you know but who” system of law – hearing Sarah say that it was okay to use your contacts to your advantage if you pay it back (or even forward) had the effect of assuaging my feelings on the matter. Between demure bites of her endive salad, Sarah in essence told us it was all right for us to play the way that men did – the important thing was playing.

I had volunteered to drive Sarah to the airport the next morning because I had to be at work early anyway. On my way to the hotel around 6:15 a.m., I decided not to ask her any questions about Roe – she had, after all, been talking about the same case for almost the last forty years of her life. Sarah came down from her room around 6:30 and invited me to have breakfast with her. We split a Belgian waffle, a few Danishes, and a couple of spoonfuls of peaches over discussions of her work as a divorce attorney. I told her I was heartened to hear that after Roe she had done divorce work, since that was something I was considering, though the profession did not have an incredibly illustrious reputation. Sarah pointed out that it is such a necessary line of work; it was particularly the case when she was practicing that women who were being divorced were downtrodden, and she said that by the end of their cases they began feeling more empowered. I almost lost track of time, listening to her stories; she kept me on track by saying, “One last bite and then we’ll hit the road.”

In the car on the way to the airport, I told her how much her advice about networking and contacts had meant to me. I had an interview that Monday for a judicial externship, I informed her, and my mother knew the judge – should I mention that in the interview? “Yes, absolutely,” Sarah said. “Don’t even wait until they ask why you want the job, say right up front that your mother thinks the judge is wonderful.” I told her that I had been thinking about how my generation does take for granted our rights and the ease with which we can procure employment – in fact, there were several times that I got a job most likely because I was a woman. Sarah said that was why she had gotten some of her positions as well, particularly because the Carter administration had made a decision to make it a point to hire more women. When we arrived at the airport, Sarah through her arms open and gave be a big Texas hug, thanking me for the wonderful time she had had in Eugene.

As I drove away, I realized that one of the foremost feminists in the country had just let me talk about myself, my situation, and my generation’s concerns for the last hour. I will always remember her stories, her advice, her determination, and her brilliance – but what I will remember most is her kindness.