CHIEF JUSTICE REHNQUIST ’52 AND JUSTICE O’CONNOR ’52 A Tribute by Kathleen M. Sullivan, Stanley Morrison Professor of Law and Former Dean

The late Chief Justice William H. Rehnquist ’52 (BA/MA ’48) and Justice Sandra Day O’Connor ’52 (BA ’50), who retires this year, had much in common besides their seats on the Supreme Court. They were both Arizonans: O’Connor grew up there on the Day family’s Lazy B Ranch while Rehnquist,who lived there before moving to Washington, D.C., liked the state’s warm climate better than the snows of his childhood Wisconsin.
They were both Reagan appointees: The president chose O’Connor to make history as the first woman on the Supreme Court, and Rehnquist to head the Court 14 years after President
Nixon first made him associate justice.
And they were both Stanford graduates—doubly so as each received both a bachelor’s and law degree from Stanford. As law school classmates in the class of ’52, they even went out a time or two before the young Sandra Day met and married another Stanford law student, John O’Connor ’53.
The future justices’ parallel tracks separated dramatically, though, at law school’s end. While Rehnquist rocketed to a Supreme Court clerkship with Justice Robert H. Jackson, O’Connor was offered jobs only as a legal secretary—despite grades that placed her right behind Rehnquist at the top of the class. A time when half of Stanford Law School graduates would be women, and when these women would receive the same job offers as men, lay far in the future.
O’Connor turned to public service as a prosecutor and later as an Arizona senator, rising eventually to the post of senate majority leader. She also ran a storefront legal practice. When President Reagan tapped her for the high court in 1981, she was a justice on an Arizona appeals court.
Rehnquist also devoted much of his career to public service, serving as an assistant attorney general in the U.S. Department of Justice’s Office of Legal Counsel. There, he attracted the attention of Nixon, who thought Rehnquist was exceptionally bright and reliably conservative, although Nixon had trouble remembering his name and disapproved of his colorful paisley ties and the sideburns he then sported.
Once Rehnquist and O’Connor were on the Supreme
Court, the two justices together framed a set of constitutional rulings protecting the autonomy of the states against ever-expanding federal power. Perhaps shaped by their experience in the former frontier states of the West, their opinions evinced a preference for local self-help over reliance on distant bureaucrats in the nation’s capital.
Under Rehnquist’s leadership, the Court invalidated federal statutes regulating gun possession and violence against women, ruling, as it had not since the New Deal, that Congress had acted beyond the bounds of its commerce power. And O’Connor wrote for the Court that federal laws
may not “commandeer” state officials to carry out federal mandates. She wrote that to do so “blurs the lines of political accountability”—a problem she understood as her Court’s only former elected official.
While the two Stanford classmates forged a united front on issues of state autonomy from federal power, they diverged in other pivotal cases involving privacy, equality, and church and state. In 1992, for example, O’Connor cast the decisive vote to reaffirm Roe v. Wade, while Rehnquist remained in steadfast dissent from a line of decisions he always thought wrong. The late chief also dissented from two decisions in which O’Connor sided with the majority in favor of gay rights.
And last term, in what turned out to be their last cases together, Rehnquist voted to uphold two Ten Commandments displays on public property while O’Connor would have struck them both down as establishments of religion.
If there was one thing that always brought the two justices together, it was Stanford Law School. They returned to campus in 1997 to preside before an overflow alumni crowd at a mock retrial of the infamous parricide Lizzie Borden,cheerfully assuming the unaccustomed role of trial judges. They returned to Stanford again to preside over a grand reargument of the Steel Seizure case in Memorial Auditorium in 2002, at a time when the issue in that case—the scope of presidential power in times of national security crisis—had taken on new urgency in the wake of September 11.
That same weekend, the two justices helped attract classmates to their 50-year reunion in record numbers—charming them with modesty and humor while giving them immense
pride, shared by us all, that these two great American figures from Stanford Law School played such remarkable roles in shaping the history of the nation’s highest court.