Justice Souter teaches us about home and humility
This article is part of an ongoing series examining the legacy and jurisprudence left by the late Justice David Souter. Michael Mongan is currently the California Solicitor-General. He was a clerk for Justice David Souter between 2007 and 2008. He avoided public speaking outside the courtroom, with a few notable exceptions like his outstanding Harvard speech in 2010. He spent most of his time in his judicial chambers with the few lucky clerks and assistants he hired. In that private setting, he said and did many things that I will never forget.
Words are not a good substitute for human emotions. Although I earn my living by describing complex legal subjects, when it comes to describing my admiration and love for David Hackett Souter, the written word seems inadequate for the task at hand.
What I can say is that he profoundly influenced who I am, as a lawyer and a human being, for reasons quite apart from his piercing intellect and his principled jurisprudence.
To begin, Justice Souter taught me the value of home. For him, home wasn’t an abstract concept, but a specific physical location: Weare, New Hampshire. He moved with his parents to Weare, New Hampshire at a young ages to live in the farmhouse that was handed down by his mother’s family. His heart never left. Living in New Hampshire rooted him in a locality that shared and shaped his core values. It preserved his bonds with his closest friends and most treasured memories. It also kept him away from the pressures of moving to a place where people are looking to accumulate wealth or power. His credentials and intelligence would have made him a success on Wall Street or in academia. He chose to return to his hometown after graduating from Harvard, and began practicing law in a small local firm. He rose through the ranks of the state government, becoming New Hampshire Attorney General, before rising through state judiciary, to the New Hampshire Supreme Court. His later public prominence came despite his geographical choices, not because of them.
Eventually, after President George H.W. Bush asked him to serve as a Supreme Court Justice, he moved to Washington for a part of every year. He never left his home, and returned as often as he could. The broadest smile I ever saw on his face was in June 2008, at the end of the term during which I clerked for him, as he walked to his Volkswagen to drive back to New Hampshire — as rapidly as the traffic laws allowed.
Justice Souter’s undying relationship with his home was an object lesson for me. As a Californian with a passion for law and politics, my only option seemed to be Washington. After my clerkship I worked in the Obama Administration. I loved the buzz of Washington and the friends I made. Washington seemed to offer more career opportunities than anywhere else for someone with my credentials.
But I had my Weare in the San Francisco Bay Area where my family lived for generations, and my oldest friends were still there. Justice Souter gave my wife and me the courage to move back to my hometown in 2010, when we were expecting our first baby. In light of his example, I knew returning to my home would be the best move for me and family, no matter what. As is so often the case, the best decision I made personally led to the best decision professionally. This led to a rewarding career in government service and private practice in my home state.
Justice Soutter also taught me how to be an effective public servant. His models of public service were not the well-known names that populate our history books, but the forgotten early statesmen of the Massachusetts Bay Colony — once described by Nathaniel Hawthorne as men who “had fortitude and self-reliance, and, in time of difficulty or peril, stood up for the welfare of the state like a line of cliffs against a tempestuous tide.” For them, public service was a pursuit worthwhile not for fame or power, but for the greater satisfaction that comes from quietly and resolutely advancing the rule of law and safeguarding their political community.
And done right, there was joy in it too. Justice Souter believed that doing it right required him to work hard, seven days a weeks, and often until late at night. It meant doing the majority of the work yourself. I’m not revealing any chambers secrets when I say that the distinctive nineteenth century prose that typifies his opinions in the United States Reports was written by him. It meant approaching the work with a level of intellectual rigor that was commensurate with the indeterminacy of many of the legal issues that reach the Supreme Court.
This may not be everyone’s idea of fun. He was one of the fortunate few who united his vocation and avocation, to steal a line from one of his favorite poets. Justice Souter taught everyone who met him (including me) the true meaning of the word “mensch”.
Despite his popular reputation as a bit of a curmudgeon, he was the most charming and witty person I’ve known: a raconteur of the highest order, with a wry smile and a humorous story fit for any circumstance.
He was unfailingly kind to those around him — no matter their position. I thought he knew every elevator operator, custodian and police officer’s name in the building. Not only their name but also their spouse’s, their children’s, and family history. He cared about other people.
He was the embodiment of honesty and judicial ethics. He was the epitome of honesty and judicial ethical standards.
I will miss him more than I can say.
Posted in Featured, Tributes to Justice David Souter
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Michael Mongan,
Justice Souter’s lessons on home and humility
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(May. 15, 2025, 4:29 PM),
