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Charles Boston’s colleague, George Wickersham, a former United States Attorney General, couldn’t agree more. Writing in the 1920s, he allowed how the contemporary American bar was filled with a “pestiferous horde of aspiring lawyers whose spoken English is of the most imperfect character and who lack the faintest comprehension of the nature of our institutions or their history and development.”
Or how about this, from the pen of Harlan Fiske Stone, the dean of Columbia University Law School, who would go on in the 1940s to become the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. Lawyers who are Jewish, he categorically declared, constituted the “greater numbers of the unfit who exhibit racial tendencies toward study by memorization and who display a mind almost Oriental in its fidelity to the minutiae of the subject without regard to any controlling rule or reason.”
At other moments, it wasn’t so much the intellectual bravura, ethnic origins or accented English of Jewish lawyers that disturbed America’s custodians of the law. It was the way they seemed to have transformed the practice of law from a noble, ethical profession into a gritty business.
Take, for example, the remarks of Henry Drinker, one of the nation’s leading authorities on lawyerly ethics during the interwar years.
“These fellows that came out of the gutter and were catapulted into the law,” he wrote, referring to the Jews, “were merely following the methods their fathers had been using in selling shoe strings and other merchandise… that is, the competitive methods they use in business down in the slums.”
Now and again, these harsh comments were softened by slightly more welcoming and encouraging ones, like that made by the dean of one urban night school with a significant enrollment of Jewish students. Every graduate, he observed, “might become a factor for law and order in his immediate neighborhood. His example and influence [might] help to mold the different elements of a cosmopolitan city into one composite mass of law-abiding citizens.”
True enough. But in the overwhelming majority of instances, Jewish lawyers were believed to be constitutionally unable to understand that the law was more than the sum of its provisos. As their critics would have it, the Jews had “little inherited sense of fairness, justice and honor as we understand them,” and were “committed only to their own selfish advancement.” How, then, are “we to preserve our Anglo-Saxon law of the land under such conditions?”
Cherishing a vision of the United States that was nativist and Christian in equal measure, the cultural custodians of the American bar made little allowance and even less room for those who, by birth and religion, stood outside their frame of reference.
Happily, some things have changed since then — and for the better.