The Council of Stanford Law Societies sponsored the April 23 Law Alumni Banquet honoring Dean Bayless Manning. Chairman of the event, Jerome I. Braun ’53, introduced the head table: “Professor Carl Spaeth, who was the fifth dean of the Law School and is now William Nelson Cromwell Professor of Law; Mrs. Ellen Ehrlich, the wife of our Dean-designate; Parmer Fuller, president of the Board of Trustees; Mrs. Illie Anderson, the wife of the Chairman of the Board of Visitors; the President of the University, Richard Lyman; our honoree, Dean Bayless Manning; the charming wife of President Lyman, Mrs. Jing Lyman; Martin Anderson, Chairman of the Board of Visitors; Mrs. Esther Pike; and Dean-designate Thomas Ehrlich.”
The Chairman recognized the current and past presidents of various law societies who were at the dinner: Mr. Chandler Myers, President of the Southern California Law Society; Mr. Wilbur Johnson, Chairman of the Peninsula Law Society; J. Sterling Hutcheson, President.of the San Diego Imperial Law Society; Mr. Newman Porter, President of the Arizona Law Society; Mr. Laurence Levine, President of the New York Law Society; Mr. George Willoughby from the State of Washington; Mr. Walter Pendergrass from the State of Oregon; Mr. Charles· Fox from the San Diego-Imperial Society; and Mr. Albert Hom from the Peninsula Society. Other current presidents include; William H. Allen, James K. Barnum, R. William Bradford, Vincent Cullinan, Frederick D. Green, John J. Hannegan, Procter R. Hug, Jr., Robert T. Mautz, Charles J. Morehouse, William G. Pusch and Homer B. Thompson.
After introductory remarks by Messrs. Fuller, Lyman and Ehrlich, Jerry Braun presented the Dean with a silver cigarette box inscribed “Presented by the Council of Stanford Law Societies to Dean Bayless Manning who enchartered 14 of the 16 Stanford Law Societies and founded this Council. April 23, 1971.”
The Chairman then presented the evening’s speaker, Bayless Manning. A transcript of the Dean’s remarks follows.
Thank you, Jerry.
As I rose, Dick Lyman just put my feelings better than I can. He said, “Well buddy, you’re adrift in an open boat.” I have wondered how it feels to deliver your own funeral oration; apparently I now have an opportunity to learn.
I rather suspected that I might be called on this evening for two or three hours of remarks, so I turned my mind as best I could to take stock, to review my performance in this job as dean of the Stanford Law School. Having done so, I have to tell you that on the whole the record is rather mixed.
I do have some very substantial accomplishments to my credit. For example, I should like to recall to you the matter of the bells. Now those of you who are very young do not know about the bells, but those of you who have more seniority will remember.
You see, when this University was opened in 1891, and the Law School in 1893, it was obviously considered a cultural necessity that a School have bells. Watches had been invented, but were not in common use. Water clocks are silent. It was necessary to know when to stop teaching and when to start teaching or vice versa. And so there are bells allover the University. Now one of the things I noticed about 48 hours after I came to the deanship was that not only did I jump out of my chair every time the bell went off at intervals of 50 minutes, then 10 minutes later, then 50 minutes, and then 10 minutes, but by actual count 17 typists would immediately make 17 typographical errors simultaneously on 17 scholarly manuscripts, 17 being the number of the faculty at the time. Flushed by the heady new power which I felt as a dean, I issued an order: “Shut off those bells!” The response, of course, was the one that you would expect in any well-run large organization-“You can’t shut off the bells.” It seems that they were laid in concrete in 1893 and are a single university-wide system. Moreover, I was unable to learn what official in the University is in charge of turning bells on and off. I reflected on this matter for two or three days as I was just beginning to learn my way through the bureaucracy and how to deal with this new environment. Finally I resolved to take a step that you all could be proud of. I personally called the University electrician and I said, “Hello, this is the dean of the Law School. Would you please come over and turn off the bells?” In about an hour somebody came over, disappeared into the basement and five minutes later the bells stopped. And they have not rung in the Law School since. You will agree that that was a signal accomplishment.
But it’s like almost everything else I’ve done-it’s a mixed story. We still hear the bells in the next building. Then there is the matter of the flag. I happen to have been trained to the view that a School ought to have a flag and the Law School had none. Here again, one can find a success. We do have a flag now, a handsome flag, I think. That is good, on the whole. But again the record is mixed. My aspirations of developing appropriately embossed “Lex atque Justitia” sweatshirts for the faculty to use in seminars ran aground; and my effort to make popular the Law School seal on socks has just been a complete
Then there are the diplomas. Again, I had a measure of success there. We managed to save space by replacing the two L’s with a single J, and we got the grade lowered from B to D. We even managed to get these things done for some of the diplomas that had been issued at an earlier time. Unfortunately, I then discovered that, like most new ideas I have, this one was about 70 years old, and that a good many of our senior alumni had a J.D. anyway. So I really don’t think I can claim very much credit for that one.
Those were the things that went, on the whole, rather well. Against these fractional gains must be counterbalanced many clear losses. One project to which I was particularly attached, and continue to be attached, was the question of how to keep posters and flyers from being stuck every day on the glass front door. I pursued this one with more ingenuity. Having been taught something about the limits of the criminal sanction by Herb Packer, I knew that just issuing an order and trying to enforce it wasn’t going to get anywhere. Clearly, what one had to do here was to circumnavigate the problem, to provide other alternatives to allow the young to sublimate their compulsion to put up posters. I conceived the notion of developing in the School a bulletin board for every student! A massive capital infusion poured into that enterprise has had some effect in the sense that a recent survey shows that there are more bulletin boards per square student in the Stanford Law School than in any other school in the world. But, of course, the flyers and the posters still are stuck on the glass front door.
People of the Law School
My initial approach to preparing these remarks having thus proved unfruitful, I turned to another approach-to enquire into the performance of other people at the School during the time I have been dean. That approach worked out very much better. Occasions like this evening’s dinner take on the appearance of a personal memorial, in this case a funereal memorial, for an individual, the outgoing officer. But of course that’s not what the occasion is really about. And it is important, it seems to me, that the individual concerned have a clear understanding that that is not what the occasion is about. An event of this sort is, in fact, a pause for breath on a staircase landing for the institution as a whole, an opportunity for a momentary self appraisal by the institution itself.
I would therefore like to say something about the Law School itself as an institution, and something about its surprisingly manifold and complex operations. The Law School involves rather more pieces and more people than most of us have occasion to be informed about. As Tom is learning these days, the truth of the matter is, that the dean’s life is a fairly busy one because he is involved in quite a number of things. He really cannot do many of these thing personally. So he relies on many, many other people to do them. I should like to have you know more about these people by name and to provide my own, and your, recognition of their special contributions to this institution.
Because the dean’s life is a frantic one, and because the demands and the opportunities of the position reach far beyond what he can do and far beyond the confines of his business office, I should like to give my first recognition, and my warmest applause, to Marjorie Manning for her unfailingly magnificent contribution to the life of the School.
The succession of Sheila Spaeth, of Marjorie and now of Ellen Ehrlich, has been, is, and will be, one of the School’s greatest strengths and this institution has been a very fortunate beneficiary.
For the beauty, the grace, and the smooth functioning of this institutional occasion tonight and others like it, I should like to at least acknowledge our debt to Alma Kays, our alumni coordinator, a debt which really is beyond measure.
The School’s publications, such as the recent issue of the Observer with its long insert on the Law School, is the product of the indefatigable and efficient Nancy Mahoney and I’d like particularly to recognize her, as you will recognize yourselves continuously in the products of her photography.
I am frequently told by employer who come to the School that Stanford Law School’s Placement Office today is the most cooperatively, courteously, and efficiently run service of all the schools they visit. The unfailingly gracious Suzanne Close is responsible and I particularly want to thank her.
I know of no office anywhere that runs with the grace under unbelievable pressure of our registrar’s office. It is a model of undermanned efficiency, administered with stoic calm by Susan Nagel and her deputy, Yvonne Erickson.
The financial life of the Law School is precarious at best. It’s also a little complicated. A most remarkable young lady named Judy Sample, now Judy Sample Keller, was largely responsible for putting together the financial machinery, the now very sophisticated accounting system. We are greatly indebted to Judy and I want to thank her, even though she has now been abducted by Bob Keller and is in Los Angeles working, as a matter of fact, for Vic Palmieri who, I am delighted to see, is here this evening. Since Judy’s departure, Lyn Butterfield has performed extraordinarily well in stepping rapidly into so complex a matter.
I could not fail to mention, though she is now not here but with the Russell Sage Foundation, that marvelous lady who for so many years honored me by being my secretary-that bastion at the center of the School-Augusta McEachern. My special thanks as well to Mrs. Barbara Campbell who this year took very effectively the difficult role of successor to Gus-and to the unflagging, ever cheerful, third member of the immediate team in the Dean’s Office, Mrs. Shirley Wedlake.
Let me here say something about the Stanford Law School Library. In size, it is not large; it does not, unfortunately, compare in dimension with the collections at other major law schools. But in its quality, and its service, and its operation, it is in a class by itself-a most remarkable tribute to its administration, which is not mine. How often it has been that visiting scholars from other schools with larger library collections have paused to comment on our law library service, and the selectivity of the collection that we do have. This is the product of the remarkable job that is done by our librarian, Professor Myron Jacobstein and by his extraordinary deputies, George Torzsay-Biber and Howard Sugarman and by marvelous people like Mrs. Rosalee Long. That library operation is a gem, thanks to them.
As many of you know, Virginia Birch has for 19 years been in large measure responsible for the regular production of the Law Review, an extraordinary contribution.
The faculty secretarial staff draws strong, dedicated, loyal ladies, many of them with many years of service. There are too many to mention them all but I cannot, in thanking them all, fail to refer to Ellen Fiske, Bess Hitchcock, Evelyn Roodhouse and Marian Holys.
How could one fail to salute our inimitable sergeant major, Erika Kaltenbach, who runs us all, and makes us like it.
Or Betty Dolan whose patience and good temper have no bounds as she somehow manages to keep the papers flowing down in the catacombs of the duplicating room.
What shall I say of the admissions and scholarship group under Dora Hjertberg and Joyce Cook? How do you thank people who stand at the dike and somehow process 4,000 admission applications per year?
Then there is the Law Fund indispensable source, blood flow to the School-administered daily now for ten years by Phyllis Munro, a Gibraltar of reliability, aided by her assistant from halfway around the world, Peggy Gale. And to Chuck Mansfield, working on the critical matter of major gifts in the AGENDA effort, the School’s debt, present and future, is great.
The School’s mail pours in and out by the ton, but it would not do so if it were not for Cornelio Perez and before him, now in service with the Marine Corps, Rich Brock.
Associate and Assistant Deans
I have not included the associate deans and the assistant deans in this list, primarily because I cannot find words adequately to describe the debt that the School owes to them and that lower to them.
Keith Mann, super dean of academic affairs. Bill Keogh, dean of admissions and, one might say, chaplain of the school. Joe Leininger, executive, scholar, diplomat, negotiator pleni-potentiary, a tremendous force in the School though he came to us from the vice deanship at Harvard less than two years ago. Thelton Henderson, ubiquitous dean of student affairs and administrator of the School’s legal educational opportunity programs. Bruce Hasenkamp, associate general secretary of the University and the Law School’s Mr. Outside. They are a magnificent team. How fortunate I have been to have had the chance to work with them.
As for Bob Keller, former assistant dean whom many of you know well, we are all mad at him. because he took Judy away, but his contributions to the School’s fund raising and alumni activities remain with us.
Tom Headrick, now vice president at Lawrence University, Wisconsin. Dave Lelewer, now a special aide to John Rockefeller in New York. Tom Robinson, at present with the Educational Testing Service at Princeton. They are no longer at the School in person, but each of them gave several years of his life and of his commitment to this Law School during this dean’s tenure, and much of what is here today is a product of what. they built and what they have left. I am deeply in their debt as indeed are all of us who work for the School.
I have missed some names I should have mentioned. But for all of those I missed and for those I did name, I would like now to ask for your applause. And for those of the School staff who are here, I hope you will applaud not only for the others but for yourselves because you certainly deserve it.
Predecessor and Successor
I should like now to pay very special tribute to two people in particular, my predecessor and my successor.
I have often before spoken in public of the School’s debt to Carl Spaeth. But I have never had quite so appropriate an occasion to do so as I have this evening or, as I see it, so good an opportunity to place what I view to be his contribution in the full context of the history of the institution.
Personally I have no doubt whatever how a future historian of the School, if there be one (and I hope there will) will see the three consecutive deanships held by Carl, by me, and by Tom. Carl inherited a School of standing and of academic rigor that had been bequeathed to him through the long deanship of Marion Rice Kirkwood and, indeed, had been born when the School was born in 1893 under the executive leadership of Nathan Abbott. The mold of that School was solid and well founded. But by the end of World War II, the time had come to give the School a new shape, to supplement it with new tools and new ideas and programs fitted to the development of the United States during the 30’s as a homogeneous national economy and polity, based upon emergence of the United States as the leading power of the world, and taking into account the developments that had occurred in intellectual fields during the twentieth century, particularly in the social sciences.
Carl Spaeth was the man who conceived and who turned the School toward these new directions. Now make no mistake about this–institutional changes of this kind are never easy. Resistance to change, even by men of the best of good will, and of the highest intellect, is the most human of all human characteristics. And Carl encountered some such resistance. Moreover, I do not say he did the job alone; he was aided indispensably by such extraordinary and special young teachers as, for example, Herb Packer and Bill Baxter to name two. But Carl was the one who brought those people to the School and he was the one who had the vision, the knowledge, and the skill to set the new course, to turn the ship to it, and to make it hold despite buffetings.
Idea after idea about legal education, ideas that are still considered novel and advanced, are traceable to Carl in the late forties and in the fifties: interdisciplinary work, legal education for undergraduates, the importance of transnational affairs in the law-to name but three.
As for my own period of deanship, as I see it, the School has been primarily in an evolutionary stage of consolidation, of implementation, of fill-out, of fleshing out, of institutionalizing that which had been begun during Carl’s leadership. The business school people would talk of my deanship as a time of production engineering-the time to bring on line and into production that which had theretofore been conceived in the laboratory. My own deanship has, in short, stood squarely on those broad shoulders of Carl Spaeth. The School’s and my debt to him have no measure.
And Tom? Unless I am mistaken-and in this I do not believe I am-I think we will see in the years immediately ahead another spurt of development in still newer directions. I shall have a little bit to say about that further this evening-though not very much, for Tom and the faculty need no instructions or architectural guidance from me. Indeed, among the many talents which Tom has at his disposal, the very one in which he most excels and as to which he has already given full demonstration, is his architectural creativity, the capacity for forward vision that the years ahead will require. I think the School is unbelievably fortunate to have available to it such young, able, and innovative leadership fitted to the period that lies ahead. I fully expect that the Stanford Law School will, under Tom’s guidance, move ahead to establish and to reestablish, again and again in a continuing process, Stanford’s vanguard eminence in the law school world. I
congratulate the School, the faculty the President and Stanford, and Tom, on their choice of the next dean.
This School has three major constituencies-faculty, student body and alumni body. I should like to say a word or two about each.
This faculty is simply extraordinary. Gauged by its commitment to its teaching, by its commitment to institutional life, by its scholarship and productivity, by its intellectual power, by any of these standards, this Law School is literally without equal in my judgment and, if you were to dismiss my judgment as biased, let us say it is at least equal to the best.
What you may not know about this faculty is that it is also the ultimate epitome of the deliberative collegiality.
I have never witnessed the equal of this faculty’s willingness to listen to its individual members, to accord total respect to each member, regardless of opinion differences, to stay as long as it may take until all the issues have emerged, until the last person who wishes to be heard is heard. I have never seen such an Athenian, pure ideal of the deliberative process as this faculty conducts-and views as normalcy. As I step out of the deanship, I urge the faculty with all the force and vigor I can summon to preserve this most remarkable treasure! The way in which this faculty has moved to issue after issue, as to which there was the widest divergence of opinion, in the years that I have been here and always found a way to work it out, to crystallize it and to keep moving, to avoid the cheap debating point, to shun the irrelevant ad hominem jab, and to maintain a low keyed voice of rational discourse, is a tremendous tribute to all its members. I have seen other schools. I have seen other bodies. I have never seen anything like the deliberative tradition at this School. It is your most rare and valuable asset; continuously remember its value, nourish it, and keep it inviolate.
As for the students, comment is easy. You are very bright, you are very energetic and you are very committed to doing the right things with your legal training. You work hard, sometimes-like all generations of students. You are young, and sometimes I agree with you and sometimes I don’t. But I think you’re great. And you will need to be. It will be a tough world that lies ahead.
The alumni? I can say only for myself that I arrived at Stanford as a stranger, knowing exactly one alumnus of this School. He is here this evening-a very close and dear friend of many years standing-Warren Christopher. Since then, I have been personally accepted by the alumni of this School in the most remarkable and warm way. I could not have been made more welcome by the institution or by its alumni-among whom I now count literally hundreds of friends. Again my debt is very great.
I have from time to time published some critical remarks about the bar, about graduates of law schools. These remarks have dealt with the profession’s pervasive sense of non-responsibility about law schools and about legal education. I have sought to point a finger not so much at parsimony, not so much at callousness to the needs of legal education, but to the bar’s lack of appreciation of the importance of legal education to the profession and to the society. I have tried to persuade lawyers to perceive the special role which they necessarily, by force of their membership in the profession, must occupy with regard to a responsibility for legal education. Stanford’s alumni body as a whole was not distinguishable from other alumni bodies as a whole in these respects. I say all that in order that I may say the next thing about our alumni. It is perfectly evident, and you see it here before you this evening that step by step, gradually, increasingly, the profession has begun to become aware that it does have a special responsibility for its own educational institutions. The bar has a direct interest in the matter, it also has a broader social interest in the matter. And it is very clear that not just by direct financial contributions, but by other kinds of support and involvement the alumni body of this School is becoming closer to the School, more interested in what it does, more concerned about tomorrow’s education. I want to pay tribute to our alumni for that current of movement and I urge you to continue it. Know the School, what is going on in it and why. Participate in the programs of your local law society. Visit the School when you can. Become involved.
The School has these three basic constituencies-the faculty, the student body and the alumni. The dean’s chair has a few advantages. The major one is perspective. I can say to each of you, perhaps better than anyone else in the room, that each of these constituencies has good cause and reasonto be proud of the other two.
The School and Reform of Legal Institutions
I hinted a little earlier that I was going to say a bit about the School and the future. I have two points to make and they are very brief.
The first one has to do with the general state of the world and particularly with the state of the law in this country. It is no discovery to any of you in the room, and I am opening no one’s eyes to anything, that there are basic malalignments, misalignments and dislocations in American society today. The dreary recitation is one that any of you can make–pollution, problems of
racial discrimination, crime, drug abuse, decay of the urban centers, and so on-you are familiar with the depressing lexicon. Because the law is the life of people, and because the law is the reflection of its society, the law of course is itself intimately, inextricably involved in these misalignments and dislocations.
Defects in our legal order are involved in at least three different ways or, more accurately, three different kinds of manifestations of defect can be seen. In one of these manifestations the law itself is being used as a tool to perpetuate or impose the social dislocation. The ways in which the eviction and repossession laws often operate offer instances of the law itself being used actively and affirmatively as an instrument of social injury. The law’s failure here is substantive.
The second general manifestation of defect is essentially of an administrative character. It has to do with the general, gradual grinding-down and–collapse is too strong a word-disintegration of the legal process itself. Congestion of the courts and intolerable delays in trials are consequential examples.
And third, our legal order today suffers from a fundamental failure in its delivery system, an institutional structural defect. As it is presently constructed, our legal order does not provide legal services to a wide segment of our population. I do not refer only to those who are at poverty levels of income. A very interesting point that emerged several times during our Board of Visitors meeting of the last two days was the voice–not of outside critics, not of judges, not of academicians-but of practicing lawyers, increasingly aware that the pricing structure for legal services, given the institutional structure of our law today, is one that provides legal services only to the very well-to-do, to the larger corporation, or to the large scale institution. This situation cannot be allowed to continue. The society will not allow it to continue. And the responsibility for changing it rests fundamentally with the people who are in this room tonight.
On the whole, the students see these things pretty clearly; on the whole, the faculty sees them pretty clearly; and on the whole, the profession increasingly sees them pretty clearly. But the situation so far has been just that-on the whole. By and large, and with some few exceptions, the profession has tended to stand pat and the law schools have tended to stand back.
My guess is that the next stage of development of law schools and of our profession will see an increasing joint involvement and an increasing joint commitment on the part of law faculty people with bar leaders to concern themselves with the institutional dislocations of the legal order and to press for institutional reform. Until today, our faculties have tended to view themselves as primarily concerned with two categories of intellectual endeavor-that relating to doctrine and that relating to analytics.
Today’s movements for institutional judicial reform and institutional reform in the legal order are not primarily associated with our law schools or centered in our law schools. But they should be. The bar is now moving, the public has come alive. My guess is-and I view this aspect of the matter as extremely optimistic-that we are moving into a stage where again, as in earlier days, the chasm between the practitioner and the law schools will be bridged as the two join forces to address the problems of a seriously ill legal order. The lawyers are needed; they have the leverage, the know-how and the understanding at a working level. The academicians are needed; they have the reflection, the data, the capacity for research. I urge both of you to join together in that endeavor and to do so quickly. Indeed, I think you must.
The New Infallibilism
And now my last point. It seems to me that we may be moving into–and there’s a great deal of evidence of this, some of it very current on this University campus-an era of what I would refer to as The New Infallibilism, or The New Dogmatism. Under the tenets of The New Infallibilism-as of all old infallibility-the basic notion is that since I am right, if you are not persuaded that I am right, I shall hit you over the head with a baseball bat. I am at an absolute loss to understand how it could be that it would be possible for so-called, or would-be, political thinkers to attempt to dress up as new and profound this most atavistic, barbaric, primitive and demonstratedly pernicious of all propositions. And yet I am afraid that we detect in our society today an increasing willingness to accept this most caveman form of alleged philosophic position as though it were some new invention.
As a matter of moral philosophy ballbat infallibilism cannot be what civilization is about and it certainly is not what law is about.
Moreover, it will not, cannot, work in pluralistic society. I guess it might be possible to run a society-though I would not want to live there–on the infallible ballbat principle if it happened to be a highly homogeneous society containing only a very few members whose attitudes, appearances, or opinions differed from the conforming mass. The mass can perhaps succeed in squashing a few aberrational performers. But American society today is a Babel of infinite numbers of voices on infinite numbers of issues all being reexamined simultaneously-with tensions up and noise levels high. While it might be possible, though morally reprehensible and personally unpleasant, for a homogeneous society to operate through a repressive use of force in place of freedom of expression, that cannot be a prescription for the viability of a society that is heterogeneous, divided in opinion and fragmented, as is our own. When the seas are rising and it is raining very hard, and everyone is on the ark, each one different, it is an especially poor time for the zebra to begin to insist that everyone on board wear stripes and the leopard to demand unconditionally that everyone assume spots-both reaching for baseball bats.
I had occasion to note the other day some arguments advanced recently on this campus to the effect that one man’s adverse judgment on the morality or the wisdom of another man’s words and action gives him the right to silence the speaker; some even would seem to say that this right becomes a duty if one is in the minority. I find it appalling and dispiriting to hear these tired arguments on a great American campus. Every despot, every inquisitor, every censor, every demagogue throughout history has offered them as his justification for the repression of oppositional thought. It is hardly credible that the most elemental principal of free speech should, after centuries of struggle to achieve it, be so little valued by those who are the major beneficiaries of it, the academician and those who hold minority views.
“The spirit of liberty”, said Judge Learned Hand, Tom Ehrlich’s mentor, “is the spirit which it not too sure that it is right.” That spirit is also the essence of free speech. It means that learning never stops, that every idea is subject to question. It is then more than the right to speak so that others may be persuaded. And it means those rights for the minority, whether of one or a hundred, and it also means those rights for the majority.
Most of all, in this day of turmoil and major social change, whether you are a student, whether you are faculty, whether you are lawyer-alumnus, whether you are talking with a member of your own constituency or of another, I ask you, as the School moves ahead and as the law moves ahead, please, please remember Cromwell’s line from 1650: “I beseech you, in the bowels of Christ, think you it possible that you may be mistaken.”
At this point Jerry Braun and Marty Anderson presented Dean Manning with a certificate making him an honorary alumnus of Stanford Law School. It reads:
In grateful recognition of his enormous contributions to the growth and greatness of Stanford Law School and in particular gratitude for his service as Dean of the School, by the authority vested in us, for and in behalf of the alumni of the Stanford Law School, we hereby designate and declare Bayless Andrew Manning alumnus causa honoris, of the School of Law of the Leland Stanford Junior University. Given at Stanford University in the State of California, this twenty-third day of April, in the year of our Lord the one thousand nine hundred and seventy-first, of the Republic the one hundred and ninety-fifth, of the University the eightieth, and of the Stanford Law School the seventy-eighth. By the Chairman of the Board of Visitors of the Stanford Law School and the President of the Council of Law Societies.