Her Idea of Justice: Absolutely Not Alito

An op-ed piece in the Wall Street Journal last month called her "the Madame Defarge of liberal court watchers," a reference to a bloodthirsty revolutionary from Charles Dickens's "Tale of Two Cities" who has a knack for knitting.

As Miers just learned, the judiciary fight is a political cage-match, so Aron is used to the critics. But she and her 35-member staff got a charge out of that Defarge shot, says Kelly Landis, an Alliance communications associate. "Except Nan's not much of a knitter," Landis jokes.

What she is, though, is someone who's managed to blend tenacity with a warm, self-effacing style.

As the fight over Alito unfolds, look for Aron on Connecticut Avenue most mornings. She'll be hoofing it downtown to her Dupont Circle offices, moving along like any GS-12, in her white sneakers and carrying two black bags, one full of work, the other with a pair of sensible pumps.

Some days, when there's time, she may stroll through Rock Creek Park, or hike across the Calvert Street Bridge and cut through Adams Morgan. But when she's in a hurry, Aron beelines down Connecticut. These days, she and her young staff -- the average age is 36 -- are in a hurry.

One day last week was packed with meetings, fundraising and lobbying calls, and finally a flight to the West Coast where the Alliance has an Oakland, Calif., office.

Aron set off for Dupont Circle a little after 8:30. The morning was clear and crisp and Rock Creek was a fall portrait. If Americans were in danger of losing ground on the right to privacy, affirmative action and abortion -- as Aron argues -- you couldn't tell when she stopped for a moment.

"Look at that, isn't it just beautiful?" she was saying, her arms resting on the concrete wall of the bridge overlooking the park, her petite frame completely still. It was just seconds, but they held the weight of discovery.

It was the same when she bopped into her office a short time later and stopped at an intern's desk to say she had an idea for the paper he was supposed to write. Or when she oversaw the 10 a.m. staff meeting and was listening to ideas and cheered on the previous day's successes -- there was the press briefing with legal director Seth Rosenthal, the Alliance's podcast was featured on NPR, and even the news that a staffer had found a new house. "Congratulations," Aron kept saying, over and over.

It becomes clear that Madame Defarge, the woman who helped sink Bork, from whom Clarence Thomas narrowly escaped, and who is gathering ammunition against Alito, is, well . . . in love. With politics, with her work, and with the rush of a good fight.

This is her time.

It's the fight predicted for more than a decade, the one expected this summer after O'Connor's announcement that she would retire. But Roberts happened instead. Then there was Miers, who might have been the focus of the fight if she'd had a clear record over which to battle and if her own party hadn't chewed her up.