I know the way to San Jose

Everyone knows Bernie Witkin. Is there any law office in California that that does not have on its shelf some, if not all, of the multi-volume set of Witkin treatises on California law, civil procedure, evidence, criminal law, the original California rules on appeal, and the popular California Style Manual?

I first met Bernie, pardon the informality, when I was in law school a long, long time ago. I recall the first day of law school. The stagecoach let me off in front of the imposing building with its inscription on the wall with the quote from Justice Benjamin Cardozo about the study of law being a "high emprise."

Along with the other new students, I entered a classroom with its tired rows of seats arranged in a quarter-circle like an amphitheater. The students were men except for three women. This was a long time ago. The women all became successful lawyers and one of them was first in the class. What else is new? We took our seats and Dean Prosser, the King of Torts, entered the room and greeted us with these encouraging words: "Look to the left, look to the right, one of those persons will not be here at the end of the year." I looked to the right, looked to the left and froze in horror. I was sitting on the aisle. You may recall my recounting this story innumerable times in different contexts.

I, or more to the point, most of us, were terrified. Today, most professors are terrified of the students. During my three years in law school, judicial opinions were shorter. No word processors. The technology in vogue was the electric typewriter. I had one, but wisely did not use it when taking the bar exam. My theory was lousy handwriting could give one the benefit of a doubt.

So, getting back to short opinions. At the time I could not judge (pardon the expression) whether they were better than the current fare. And this takes me to my first meeting Bernie Witkin. This was not an in-person meeting. That came years later. When I did not understand a professor's analysis of judicial opinions and statutes, a common occurrence, I went to the library to visit my friend Bernie. What a breath of fresh air to read readable prose, concise sentences, and no footnotes. Bernie's current Summary of California Law follows his tradition-innumerable pages and no footnotes in sight to cite.

Much later I learned that Bernie was not all that taken with law school. Me neither. I didn't know until much later that he cut classes. So did I, now and then. I cut property class to attend a lecture given by literary scholar Alfred Kazin on J.D. Salinger's The Catcher in the Rye. Wouldn't you? Have you ever thought, as Holden Caulfield did, where the ducks go when the lake freezes over?

I also cut property class to attend a panel discussion with James Baldwin, Philip Roth, and John Cheever. Not to worry, when I became a justice on the Court of Appeal, I wrote an opinion concerning a multi-acre property case. Guess who argued the case? I knew you would get it-the property professor whose class I had skipped. He "won," I mean "prevailed." I assure you it had nothing to do with my cutting a couple of his classes. And he did not use the Socratic method. But in court... I did.

Bernie is reputed to have complained that the Socratic teaching method dishonored Socrates. I suppose this was because few professors used the Socratic method. That was my experience as a law student. A series of meandering questions, some insulting, is not the Socratic method. I found, however, that on the rare occasion when a talented professor took the time to ask a series of questions that truly reflected the Socratic method, it was a valuable teaching method and an exhilarating experience. So, Bernie, thanks for helping me through law school.

I continued to revere Bernie during my eleven years as a lawyer. Bernie, through his compendium on California law, was always at my side when I tried cases, drafted contracts, or settlements. His lectures on recent cases in California law were always packed. His titles for each case he discussed were often hilarious. I recall "Pandemonium in the Condominium." And, yes, he abhorred footnotes.

So, when the chrysalis opened and I emerged as a judge, I met Bernie in person. We formed a friendship and I think he may have complimented me. Or did he? He said I was "egregiously literate." I gave a few talks with Bernie and taught classes at the California Judges College under the auspices of CJER, the Center for Judicial Education and Research, the educational institution he created to train judges and where I received an invaluable judicial education.

I emceed his birthday parties, including his 90^th. Along with retired Court of Appeal Justice Howard Weiner, I interviewed Bernie for a documentary about his views on the law. The documentary was introduced by retired Justice Elizabeth Baron. I mention it only because at the end of the documentary, where the credits are rolling by, the soundtrack booms with Bernie's laughter. This laughter was occasioned by my telling him jokes before we filmed. And they were my jokes.

So, I guess that's it. It's not necessary to read anymore unless you are wondering about the title of this column. This is kind of embarrassing but bear with me. Writing hundreds of columns is not as easy as it looks. I am always looking for material. Some of the material in this column is what I intended to say at an awards dinner in San Jose sponsored by the California Lawyers Association. Still with me? So... I received an award in San Jose, The Bernard E. Witkin Medal. This was not like the Academy Awards. I was not allowed to speak. After they said nice things about me, I was supposed to leave the stage and go back to my table. I followed the protocol, although I did tell the audience I intended to wear the medal in bed that night.

I discussed my dilemma with my friend, Justice Carin Fujisaki. The issue: how to write about Bernie with an explanation for doing so without sounding braggadocio about receiving the medal bearing his name? It's not every day that you receive the honor of receiving a medal bearing the name of the person you revere. So, I thought it would be fun to mention the medal in a footnote. Get it? Bernie and I eschew footnotes. Carin, I get to call her Carin because she's a friend (hope she still is) thought it was a terrific idea. Sorry to bring you into this Carin, but I feel awkward taking full responsibility for this penultimate paragraph.

At the last minute I scuttled the idea of a footnote. Seldom, if ever, does one see footnotes in a column. Bernie often guides my writing and his spirit said, "Go with the last three paragraphs." Thanks Bernie.