A Journey with Justice O'Connor | Naoyuki Agawa (Dean, Faculty of Policy Management)
2008.12.24
Former Associate Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States, Sandra Day O'Connor, came to SFC. She stayed for two nights at the Guest House on December 10 and 11, energetically tackling a full schedule that included participating in classes, giving a lecture in a large hall, an excursion to Kamakura, observing a tea ceremony demonstration by the tea ceremony club, and interacting with undergraduate and high school students. On December 12, she was awarded an honorary doctorate from Keio University by President Anzai at the Mita campus, after which she delivered a commemorative lecture.
Justice O'Connor's visit was part of the "SFC Global Leader Invitation Program," one of the commemorative events for the 150th anniversary of Keio University's founding. To mark the 150th anniversary, we wanted to do something meaningful at SFC. After much thought, we came up with the plan to invite world leaders to SFC. We believed that living and studying alongside a first-rate individual, engaging in what Yukichi Fukuzawa called *jinkan kōsai* (human relations), would have a profound impact. We proposed this idea, secured a budget, and reached out to Justice O'Connor, with whom I had an acquaintance, making her visit to Japan a reality.
The first time I met Justice O'Connor was in the spring of 1990. I was working as a junior lawyer at a law firm in Washington, D.C. The editor-in-chief of a women's magazine called *Clair* happened to ask me, "Would you interview the most famous woman in America?" I accepted, but then had to ponder who would be the best choice. At that time, American public opinion was divided over the issue of abortion, and the Supreme Court was about to rule on its constitutionality. As the female Supreme Court justice whose vote was drawing national attention, Justice O'Connor was the focus. I used my connections to submit a request, and to my surprise, she quickly agreed.
I had never before interviewed such an important figure as a Supreme Court justice. I knew I had to do my homework. With that in mind, I read every newspaper and magazine article I could find about Justice O'Connor. I learned that she had grown up on a large ranch in southeastern Arizona and had been an active girl, riding horses and helping with ranch chores from a young age. It seemed I needed to know this ranch to understand the justice. Acting on this intuition, I got permission from the editor-in-chief and visited the ranch, named the Lazy B.
I flew from Washington to Phoenix, Arizona, met up with Toshi Kazama, a photographer based in New York, and the next morning we flew to Tucson. From there, it was another endless 200-kilometer drive. The land and sky were immense. The dry, barren land stretched on. Low-lying shrubs grew in patches, as if clinging to the earth's surface. At the ranch, Justice O'Connor's brother, Mr. Day, greeted us, dressed in a ten-gallon hat and boots. As we approached, a herd of cattle turned in unison to stare at us with curious eyes. The ranch was about the same size as the 23 wards of Tokyo, but there were only five houses on it. A light aircraft was parked in the yard. When I asked Mr. Day whose it was, he said, "It's mine. Want to go for a flight?" and took us for a spin over the ranch. In the air, every time Mr. Day got absorbed in conversation, the stall warning horn would beep loudly. By the time we left the ranch, the sun had set, it was dark, and the night sky was full of stars. In the surrounding hills, coyotes were howling at the moon.
A few days after returning to Washington from Arizona, Mr. Kazama and I visited the Supreme Court. On days when the court is not in session, anyone can enter the courtroom, but the area where the justices have their chambers is off-limits. A marshal granted us entry, and we stepped into the inner sanctum of the court. It felt like entering the depths of a temple. We were shown to Justice O'Connor's chambers and asked to wait. There wasn't a sound, and the two of us were at the height of nervousness.
"Mr. Agawa." Suddenly, my name was called from behind me. I turned to see Justice O'Connor herself, whom I had only seen in photographs, standing there looking at me. I had thought her secretary would show us into her office, but the justice had come out to greet us herself. She gazed at us with her large eyes and smiled. She said nothing more, seeming to wait for me to speak.
"Justice O'Connor, it's an honor to meet you. Two days ago, I went to the Lazy B with Mr. Kazama, the photographer."
For a moment, the justice looked surprised, and at the same time, a very pleased expression came over her face.
"Oh, really? All that way. You went to so much trouble."
The tension melted away at once, and the interview went well. The justice looked me straight in the eye and spoke slowly, choosing her words precisely. In the end, she turned the tables on Mr. Kazama and me, asking, "So, tell me about yourselves," making it feel as if she were interviewing us.
About eighteen years have passed since then. I didn't have a chance to see Justice O'Connor for a long time, but whenever I sent her a letter, she always replied. Every time the justice wrote an important opinion, it was major news across the United States. As a centrist, her vote often decided the outcome of Supreme Court rulings, and she was called the most powerful woman in America. I later returned to Tokyo, continued my work as a lawyer, and eventually became a faculty member at SFC.
In September 2002, I unexpectedly began working at the Embassy of Japan in the United States, where I learned that Ambassador and Mrs. Kato were bird-watching companions with Justice O'Connor. When I told the ambassador that I had interviewed the justice long ago, he said, "Well then, next time we invite Justice O'Connor for dinner, you should come too." So one evening, after finishing work, I made a late appearance at a dinner party at the ambassador's residence. Among the guests at the table was the familiar face of Justice O'Connor.
"Justice, you may not remember me, but my name is Agawa. I interviewed you about ten years ago." As I spoke from behind her, the justice paused her meal, turned, and extended her hand. "Mr. Agawa, of course I remember you. I'm so happy to see you again," she said, looking me firmly in the eye, smiling, and shaking my hand. Then she introduced me to the people around her, saying, "This man went all the way to my home ranch, the Lazy B."
During my time at the embassy in the US, I had several opportunities to meet the justice. I was once invited to the Supreme Court to observe oral arguments. She occasionally attended embassy events. Whenever we met, she would always look me firmly in the eye and smile. Her eyes seemed to hold a combination of strength and kindness.
It was the same during her recent stay at SFC. When we reunited at Narita Airport on December 9 as I went to pick her up. When we gathered in the hotel lobby in the morning before heading to SFC. When I welcomed her at the Guest House upon her return from Kamakura. Her strong and kind eyes were always there. Incidentally, she would still say to students and others, "You know, this dean went all the way to my home ranch." It was as if she were sharing a small piece of her precious memories of the Lazy B with me.
Watching from a slight distance, whether during a meal, a meeting, or a lecture, she would gaze intently into the eyes of whomever she was speaking with, listen carefully, and speak calmly, choosing her words with care, but also occasionally mixing in unexpected humor. If her interlocutor was a dignitary but their conversation was long-winded and uninteresting, she would whisper to me after the meeting with a blunt assessment like, "That person talks a lot, don't they?" It was refreshingly frank. If you were to stand for oral arguments in the Supreme Court and be questioned by this justice, you would surely tremble. She is resolute, yet gentle. During a meal, upon seeing a student busily working, she would command, "You, sit here and eat properly."
In these eighteen years, many things have happened in the world, in Japan, and in America. And there were changes for Justice O'Connor as well. In 1995, her colleague and close friend, Chief Justice Rehnquist of the Supreme Court, passed away. I happened to be in Washington at the time and saw on television Justice O'Connor standing on the wide steps of the Supreme Court, weeping bitterly as she saw off the casket. Her husband developed Alzheimer's disease, and to devote herself to his care, she resigned from her position as a Supreme Court justice in January 2006, after nearly 25 years of service. The girl named Courtney, her first grandchild whom she had joyfully told me about when we first met, is now a first-year student at the College of William & Mary, where the justice herself serves as Chancellor. The justice herself has aged a little, and I found myself offering her a hand when she went down stairs or stood up from a chair. The years flow by.
On Sunday, December 14, a cold and rainy day, Justice O'Connor left Japan and returned to Arizona. As we parted in the hotel lobby, the justice embraced me with her large hands and said, "It was a wonderful stay. Perfect. Thank you." Not knowing what to say, I replied, "I won't say thank you again. I'm just sad that we have to say goodbye." "Me too," she said, patting my shoulder. I felt my eyes welling up with tears.
A few students, reluctant to part with the justice, went to see her off at Narita. I went home by train. On the Shonan train, I sat across from a family of four I didn't know. They were likely on their way back from a trip to their hometown somewhere in the Tohoku region. A young mother holding an infant and a father were happily chatting about their trip. Beside them, a little boy of about two, perhaps tired from the journey, was nodding off, his head occasionally bumping against the wall. On the window ledge hung the father's large black umbrella, the mother's umbrella, and the little boy's small umbrella. The three umbrellas swayed in a row each time the train shook. For a moment, I felt like telling the little boy, "You know, I just said goodbye to a wonderful person named Justice O'Connor," but I decided against it, thinking it would only startle him.
(Date of publication: 2008/12/24)