Sandra Day O'Connor, Well Judged
Women's Group Honors Pioneering High Court Justice

By Darragh Johnson
Washington Post Staff Writer
Tuesday, March 7, 2006

Ruth Bader Ginsburg started at the beginning.

"She could brand cattle. Drive a tractor," the Supreme Court justice said, describing the early years of Sandra Day O'Connor, the first woman to sit on the nation's highest court.

"Fire a rifle," Ginsburg continued, "with accuracy." The 500 or so judges, lawyers and others in the marble hall of the National Museum of Women in the Arts started howling. The laughs echoed and rose, erupting louder and louder.

O'Connor, the evening's honoree, appeared to smile wryly, while mouthing an "Ooh!" and flicking her fingers, as though pretending to wipe sweat from her brow.

On the same day that Gov. Mike Rounds signed legislation banning most abortions in South Dakota -- a law designed both to capitalize on O'Connor's departure from the bench and to challenge Roe v. Wade -- O'Connor was feted last night with a Lifetime Achievement Award by the National Association of Women Judges, an organization she joined when it was first formed and its members were few.

It's an award the organization had never presented in its 27-year history -- perhaps because NAWJ is an "association replete with high achievers, and we're not easily impressed," noted President Vanessa Ruiz.

"That's so true," murmured a woman in the crowd.

But O'Connor impressed them.

They crowded under the great chandeliers at the museum. They lined the stairs leading up to, and the balustrades around, the second-floor balcony, and as Ginsburg and Supreme Court Chief Justice John G. Roberts Jr. spoke about their former colleague, a justice "universally hailed as one of the most influential women in history," as NAWJ put it in the evening's program, the audience of mostly women leaned forward to listen.

Ginsburg talked about how, "more than once," lawyers arguing cases before the Supreme Court -- well-regarded lawyers, with distinguished backgrounds and impressive résumés -- would turn to Ginsburg and call her "Justice O'Connor."

And O'Connor would "briskly remind" the lawyer, Ginsburg said: "She's Justice Ginsburg. I'm Justice O'Connor."

In a natty plaid suit with velvet collar, a Paloma Picasso silver pin and a silver scrunchie around her pony tail, Ginsburg concluded somberly:

"To my sorrow, I am now what she was her first 12 years on the court -- the lone woman."

Roberts described how the courtroom could fill with well-spun "flights of fancy," and O'Connor could be counted on to bring things down to earth with: "Well, this case is about X, isn't it? I think we might hear something about that this morning."

Ginsburg and her husband, Martin, who filled up one side of a cocktail napkin with notes as the evening wore on, sat at a table with Roberts, his wife, Jane, and White House counsel Harriet Miers, President Bush's foiled nominee to replace O'Connor.

O'Connor and her husband, John, sat on the other side of the stage with Candice Owens, the third-year law student at the University of the District of Columbia who is the first recipient of the NAWJ's $2,500 Justice Sandra Day O'Connor scholarship.

Everyone else stood, and those near the tables crowded in tightly enough to see, for example, that the bald spot atop John Roberts's head is shaped like a fuzzy heart. For many, it was the closest they got to the chief justice, who was kept, like the others, in a separate VIP room for much of the evening.

"Have you seen Alito yet?" asked Ann Johnston, a guest of the Arent Fox law firm, just before the speeches began.

She was told that Samuel Alito, confirmed in January to take O'Connor's seat, would not be coming.

Except for Ginsburg and Roberts, none of the other justices came, either.

The honoree and her former colleagues had been instructed to sneak in through a side door, but Miers arrived through the front doors, the glow of yellow McDonald's arches across the street lighting her approach. Bea Ann Smith, a justice from the Texas Court of Appeals, stood ready to whisk her away from hoi polloi, but not before Miers was asked about the importance of the evening.

"It's a wonderful opportunity for so many people to express our appreciation for her wonderful contributions," she answered. "She's been a remarkable public servant."

O'Connor, wearing a dark blue suit, remembered that when President Reagan offered her the job as the first female justice of the Supreme Court, "I had to take a lot of deep breaths to decide."

"It is special to be the first to do something," she said, "but you don't want to be the last."

She looked at the hundreds of people -- people who earlier had described the evening as "historic" and "totally awesome" and O'Connor as a "trailblazer," an "inspiration," a "pioneer" -- and expressed dismay that they'd had to stand for so long on the marble floor.

But she held them there for one last thought.

"I truly hope," she said, "I am around and still aware of what is going on" when "our third woman" is appointed to the Supreme Court.

The applause began.

"Our fourth," she continued.

The applause quickened and cheers started.

"And" -- O'Connor persisted -- "wait a minute."

Things quieted momentarily.

"Our fifth ."

The room erupted, again. Women blinked fast, and their eyes glittered, and one man pulled out a white handkerchief and pressed it against his eyelids, as though to push back the tears.