Graduates and Guests:  First and foremost, heartfelt congratulations to the Class of 2004, and to every one of you here--faculty, administration, family, friends--all of you beaming with pride over the graduates.  I’m beaming too.  I am delighted to become an honorary part of your class, and especially pleased to address you with Howard Glickstein here as Dean. 

 In anticipation of today, I’ve been monitoring carefully the field of commencement oratory, always on the lookout for the key to reaching the graduates, to finding that magic message that they will remember the rest of their lives. 

Sadly, my research has shown absolutely no change in commencement audiences over the past two decades.  In fact, nothing seems to have changed over the last two centuries.  At my own alma mater, law school graduates in 1897--by the way, I was not part of that class--announced that they were “utterly convinced that commencement speeches are altogether devoid of interest to an audience.” 

That’s disheartening, but understandable.  It’s a well-known fact that while commencement addresses may be included in anthologies, posted on the Web or published as articles--Anna Quindlen even turned hers into a book--the speeches are never actually remembered by anyone.  The graduates’ minds are overflowing with joy and celebration--that’s as it should be--their years of institutional captivity ended.  And families and friends are focused on their own sense of excitement, achievement and pride.  That’s as it should be too. 

Of course there are exceptions to that rule.  Robert DeNiro, for one, gave a memorable speech to graduates:  “Break a leg.” 

Who can forget those inspiring words?  Anyway, that was college.  And no one expects a lawyer or a judge to give a three-word speech when 3,000 words will do nicely.

With a full appreciation, then, of the traditional, distracted commencement audience, I focused my research on Touro’s Class of 2004--who you are, what your expectations are, what worries you most about the future.  This presented a logistical challenge.  “Knowing your audience” for lawyer advocacy usually means having a sense of one judge, or a jury of twelve, or an appellate panel of three, five, seven or even nine judges.  But you’re hundreds.  And the court system has no marketing department to survey what 2004 law-degree recipients will pay to see a movie or, more relevantly, what will keep them from nodding off while the Chief Judge speaks.

So I invited three members of the Class of 2004--La-Keshia Dandy, Aileen Kavanaugh and Zaki Tamir--to my Chambers, and we spent some terrific time together getting to know one another and getting to know you.

I learned, for example, that you are actually happy to be finishing law school, to have reached this milestone in your lives, that looking ahead you feel a bit anxious but well prepared by brilliant, caring professors, small classes and warm relationships to pursue interests you developed here.  You leave Touro with a strong commitment to community service, and public service, and to this law school.  But what moved me most of all during our meeting were their words about your attachment to your fabulous Dean.  They described him as I know him too:  a modest, self-effacing person of great accomplishment who rebuffs personal praise and exemplifies our profession’s highest commitment to civil rights and equal opportunity.

As a matter of fact, I see a real connection between your graduation and two extraordinary legal subjects.

The first extraordinary subject is the golden anniversary, precisely two weeks ago, of Brown v. Board of Education, quite possibly the most significant decision in our nation’s history.  Brown was the result of two decades of planning and effort by a group of skilled, courageous lawyers,  That case, as you know, has been a catalyst for remarkable change in our law and in our society.  Critics of Brown insisted that “the law can’t change people”--I remember that so well.  But they were absolutely wrong.  Brown proved that the law can change people, it can change attitudes--and it did--although that did not happen overnight.  Indeed, the process is still ongoing.  And it did not happen without the continuing dedication of skilled and courageous lawyers, to this very day.

Which brings me to my second extraordinary subject, Howard Glickstein, who steps down as Dean in just 30 days.  Although, thankfully, he will remain part of the Touro family and part of our lives, the end of his deanship is the end of an era in the history of this law school--from its very beginnings, to accreditation, to maturity as an institution, to setting the stage for moving to a new home in Central Islip.

What interests me most about Howard Glickstein on this particular Law School commencement day, in the golden anniversary year of Brown v Board of Education, is his own stellar life in the law.  And that is the inspiration for the core of my message today.

The day Brown was announced--May 17, 1951‑‑Dean Glickstein was himself a graduating law student, in New Haven, Connecticut.  He remembers exactly where he was when he heard the news, since his interest in civil rights had begun back in high school.  His initial career choice after law school was a large New York City law firm, but as the civil rights movement took shape, he felt he just had to be a part of it.  He knew that, as a lawyer, he had the skills--and he had the responsibility--to work for change in society.

For Howard Glickstein, as for so many lawyers, success in the practice of law was never defined by the biggest salary or the most prestigious firm.  He saw success in terms of righting wrongs, ending invidious discrimination, changing attitudes, helping people in trouble, confronting and overcoming injustice.

If you’ve examined the story behind Brown v. Board of Education, you know that a fortuitous change of personnel in the United States Supreme Court--the death of Chief Justice Fred Vinson followed by the appointment of Earl Warren--was a key factor in the outcome of the case.  It’s not at all clear how the case would otherwise have turned out.

Well, a fortuitous change in leadership of the Civil Rights Division of the Department of Justice in 1960 opened a door for Howard Glickstein that had otherwise been closed.  Dean Glickstein tells the story of the sacrifices he made--and I’m not referring to the perks of large firm law practice.  The new man in charge, Harold Tyler, told him that, in his new job, he would have to give up membership in the American Civil Liberties Union.  Glickstein then asked, “But what about my membership in the NAACP?”  He pointed out that, as a lifetime member of the NAACP, the only way he could give up that membership was by “jumping out of a window.”  Fortunately for all of us, they found another solution.

What followed was what Dean Glickstein calls--until Touro‑‑the best, most exciting job of his life, in Washington, writing Supreme Court briefs and helping to draft legislation like the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965.  Just to give you a taste of how heady these years were, you should know that (with a little help from Google) I learned from the daily presidential diary posted on the Internet that on Tuesday, April 4, 1978, between 12:20 and 12:25 p.m., in his capacity at the time of Director of the Task Force on Civil Rights Reorganization, Howard A. Glickstein met with President Jimmy Carter to discuss reorganization of the civil rights agencies.  By the way, after that meeting, the President left to have lunch in the second floor residence with the First Lady and three Carter relatives.  Isn’t the Internet great?  Isn’t Dean Glickstein great?

Before he turned to academia and the development of a new generation of lawyers, Dean Glickstein remained directly involved in civil rights litigation for many years, in different posts.  That is, that unquestionably will always be, a passion of his. 

The coincidence of the road to Brown and the career path of Dean Howard Glickstein reminds us all that ours has been‑‑and it remains‑‑truly a noble profession.  That’s an especially good reminder at a time when graduates are weighed down by concerns about law school debt, the bar exam and finding a job, as well as regrettable public views and jokes about lawyers.  It’s sometimes easy to lose sight of how great it is to be a lawyer, how vital the Bar has been, and is, to the best of America. 

You’ve heard from your classmates today what their personal expectation is about the practice of law.  Mine is personal testimony based on actual experience after 42 years as a lawyer. 

Like your Dean, lawyers of learning, dedication and integrity throughout history have battled injustice, and planned legal strategies, and litigated cases, and written briefs, and drafted and advocated for laws that have opened doors of opportunity for all of us, irrespective of race, or ethnicity, or gender, or sexual orientation.  Indeed, much of our nation’s progress toward a fairer, better society has been the result of the efforts of lawyers.

Every day of the week, all around us, lawyers help to secure rights and punish wrongs.  They are in our housing courts helping poor families avoid homelessness, and in our family courts protecting abused and neglected children, and in our drug courts helping addicted offenders reclaim their lives.  They are using their skills to protect the environment; and helping clients obtain government entitlements and compensation for injury; they are assisting the disabled, the mentally retarded, the elderly; they are at the side of a new home buyer, a musician, inventor or CEO negotiating a contract, an entrepreneur starting a company and a worldwide corporation defending antitrust charges.

Lawyers are at the hub of America’s economic, political and intellectual life.  They engender and implement ideas for artists, businessmen and scientists, and they can influence their clients’ conduct toward higher and higher moral and ethical levels.  Have no doubt:  you made a great choice.

Whatever hopes and aspirations drew you to the law and to this fine institution, whatever dreams your families harbor for you as lawyers, whatever ambitions brought you here--whether you choose a life of public service, or private practice, or teaching, or something entirely different--it is important to remember always that ours is a public profession.  It demands not simply personal and professional integrity, but also that we give back something to the community for the privileges and opportunities we enjoy as lawyers.  It is a sad reality that so many in this state and nation are left to fend for themselves  because they cannot afford a lawyer.  This is a situation that we as a profession and as a democratic society simply cannot tolerate.  You can make the difference.

As lawyers, we each have the ability to make the profession, and the practice of law, less respected, less humane.  And conversely, we have the ability, each of us individually, to make the profession better understood, more respected, more humane.  We can do this by rendering competent service, and by reaching out to the public to help address the vast unmet legal needs in our society.  And we can do this by treating clients as well as treating one another--associate or adversary--with decency and dignity.