IN-VERSION

John K. Setear*

It is 1985. Ronald Reagan is battling the Evil Empire. Joe Gibbs has just taken the Washington Redskins to two Super Bowls. Michael Jackson, resculpted but not yet freakish, leads a huge chorus in "We Are the World." Sandra Day O'Connor has been the First Woman on the U.S. Supreme Court for four years and, in the Washington social milieu of the time, still probably resides on the A-list ahead of any of the aforementioned men.

So, if you clerked for Justice O'Connor in 1985, everyone you met anywhere knew who your employer was once they knew who your employer was. Everyone anywhere would then tend, incomprehensibly, to skip over such important questions as how you got such a great job, or whether you were worried that you might persuade her to adopt a position that law professors would then gleefully tear to pieces for generations to come. Instead, they would invariably ask, "What's she like?"

"Really smart," would be an excellent and accurate answer-but, sadly, one that was often dismissed. Inquisitors tended already to believe either that all Justices were smart (if the inquisitor was a normal person) or that all Justices must be dumb (if the inquisitor worked for a member of Congress). Additionally, the occasional wiseacre would ask, "Well, then, how come William H. Rehnquist graduated first in that Stanford Law School class and Sandra Day only graduated third?" (I have always wondered who graduated second: Wally Pipp, Jr.?)

"Okay," your inquisitor