The Verdict -- Robert Gardner

I like characters. I realize that conformity is essential to an

orderly civilization, but too much conformity is stifling. It’s the

occasional character who keeps things from getting stagnant.

A. I. Kanarick was a character. A lawyer by profession, Kanarick was

notorious for his obstreperous behavior in court. He was constantly being

cited for contempt of court.

I had heard of him, of course, just like people in the Middle Ages had

heard of the Black Death, but I had never met him, and then one day, I

learned he was to appear before me. I duly prepared myself for the

ordeal. How fast it came astounded me. I took the bench and said, “Good

morning, Mr. Kanarick.”

At that point, Kanarick leaped to his feet and demanded a mistrial.

Somewhat puzzled, I asked, “Just what have I done?”

Kanarick responded, “You spoke to me and ignored my client.” According

to him, that was a violation of the Bill of Rights, the charter of the

World Court, the Ten Commandments and a section of the Koran.

Clearly, it was going to be a long trial. And then I had an idea. I

left the bench, walked to the counsel table and apologized to his

embarrassed client.

I guess Kanarick felt that he was dealing with a bigger clown than he

was because he grinned, bowed, sat down and we tried the case without

further interruption.

Gladys Towles Root was another lawyer who was also a character. She

was also an acute embarrassment to the bar. Her problem was that she had

guts enough to defend the untouchables of society -- child molesters,

peeping Toms, sexual exhibitionists and pornographers, many of whom made

up a sort of entourage that accompanied her various court appearances.

Root was a large, homely woman who insisted on appearing in court in a

hat, and not just ordinary hats, but great sweeping wide-brimmed hats

that covered both sides of the counsel table. She had carried on a lively

feud with the Los Angeles Superior Court for some years over her hats.

The fussy Los Angeles County judges somehow conceived the idea that women

shouldn’t wear large hats in court.

I knew all that and so the first time she appeared before me

accompanied by her usual group of hangers-on, she swept through the door

and took a challenging stance, prepared for the usual fight over her hat.

Instead, I said, “Love your hat, Mrs. Root.” On that flimsy basis, a

lasting mutual admiration was born.

I will always remember her last appearance before me. I had heard that

she had been in a serious automobile accident that had resulted in not

one but two broken hips. She swept into court with her hat and her

entourage, but this time in a wheelchair.

I said, “I understand that you have suffered a severe accident. You

may address the court from a sitting position.”

Root was made of stronger stuff. She struggled painfully to her feet.

“Not in your court. Never in your court.”

That was my last contact with Gladys Towles Root, a woman I admired

for her courage -- and her hats.

* ROBERT GARDNER is a Corona del Mar resident and a former judge. His

column runs Tuesdays.