Vol. 78, No. 5, May 2005

Aiming High

by Dianne Molvig

Two suitcases sit near the window in Justice Louis Butler's Wisconsin Supreme Court office, creating the impression that he has a flight to catch later in the afternoon. Perhaps he'll be heading out to speak at a conference or to teach at the National Judicial College in Reno, Nev. - the sorts of trips he takes regularly.

But, in fact, on this particular March afternoon he has no plans to fly anywhere, and those two suitcases are standing ready nearby, as they do every day, to serve other purposes.

Seated at his desk, Butler gestures toward the bags and says, "The bigger of the two I fill with my reading." It goes home with him to Milwaukee on weekends and looks to be about the size most people would find adequate to pack for a week-long trip. "The other one," he says of the smaller bag, which has at least triple the capacity of an ordinary briefcase, "I take home every night (to his Madison apartment) filled with reading material for the next day."

Toting those paperwork-stuffed bags back and forth has become part of Butler's normal routine since he was sworn in last August as the newest supreme court justice, on appointment by Gov. Jim Doyle.

"I thought I knew what this job entailed," Butler says, "because I did appellate work for nine years (with the Wisconsin State Public Defender's Office). One of the things you learn when you get here is that whatever you think this job entails, get out your multiplier. It's a heck of a lot more."

He's been surprised to learn, for instance, how much justices must do in addition to deciding cases. Rule making, disciplinary matters, public speaking engagements, overall court administration, and case selection all devour considerable time. "There are petitions for bypass, for certification, for original action - we get about 1,200 of those a year," Butler explains. "You don't think about the 1,200 petitions you're going to read; you only think about the cases the court is going to decide. At least that's the way I thought when I walked into this job."

This all adds up to a professional life that allows sparse down time, and even sleep becomes a rare commodity, Butler admits. Yet, sitting at his desk, he looks and sounds like someone who's recently returned from a month's vacation. He talks energetically, easily breaks into his characteristic hearty laugh, and shows no hint of feeling overworked. Clearly, this is a guy who is exactly where he wants to be, doing what he wants to do.

Hooked Early

Butler's aspiration to join the state's highest court - one of many goals he has set for himself in his 53 years - dates back to the late 1980s, before he'd yet been a judge of any type. As early as age eight, he decided he wanted to be an attorney. "I was hooked by John Kennedy's inaugural speech," he says. "I saw it as a call to public service, and I've been on that career path ever since."

Part of the reason for wanting to be a lawyer was to be able to clean up neighborhoods like the one where he grew up on Chicago's south side. "We were surrounded by the two largest street gangs in the nation at that time," he says. "We made a pact on our block that we weren't going to join a gang. We kind of stuck together."

Still, it wasn't an easy pact to keep. Violence was everywhere, as were the threats to those who wanted no part of it. Butler remembers, for instance, his brother once running into the house, dodging bullets, and his mother, livid that anyone would endanger her son, about to run out to give the hoodlums a piece of her mind, armed with only a broom. His brother had to pin her in his arms to stop her.

"I knew - everyone knew - who the bad people were in the neighborhood," Butler says, "but things weren't happening to stop them." Thus, the young Butler decided to become an attorney, and perhaps one day the first black mayor of Chicago. He never pursued the latter goal, but the other goal he reached in 1977 when he received his law degree from the U.W. Law School, Madison, after earning his undergraduate degree at Lawrence University in Appleton.

Upon graduation from law school, Butler originally had his sights set on becoming a criminal prosecutor. "I love criminal law - the nuances, the issues that come up," he says. But he ended up getting his first job as an appellate attorney in the State Public Defender's Office (SPD), which he describes as a "top-notch criminal law agency." Nine years later he switched to the SPD's trial division.

"It's one thing when you're reviewing transcripts as an appellate lawyer and seeing how you think the case should have been tried," Butler points out. "It's another to be in the trenches trying the cases."

He decided he wanted the latter experience, as well. So, three days after he argued a case in the U.S. Supreme Court (the first Wisconsin SPD attorney ever to do so), he handled a misdemeanor intake on his first day with the SPD trial division. He stayed there four-and-a-half years, until he was appointed to the Milwaukee County municipal bench in 1992.

Butler's judicial aspirations actually had taken root a few years earlier. In 1989, he ran unsuccessfully for Milwaukee County circuit court, following three earlier attempts to earn appointments to the circuit court. After 10 years as a municipal judge, in 2002 Butler again sought and this time won a circuit court judgeship, earning two-thirds of the votes.

By that time, he'd also made a run for the state supreme court in 2000, without success. In typical Butler fashion, he views that loss as a positive, in the end. He notes that had he not been in that race, he wouldn't have caught the attention of the Judicial Selection Committee and the governor last summer.

"I think it's important to get out there," Butler says. "I remember something a gentleman told me a long time ago, when I first expressed an interest in the judiciary. He said, `You know, you haven't shown you're serious. You haven't run.' That stuck with me ... I never want to be in a position where I have to look back and say, `What if I'd done this or that?' For me, failure is not in trying and failing; failure is in not trying."

Reaching Out

Through all his years as a judge, on whatever bench he was serving at the time, Butler has made it a priority to get out to talk to young people. Incidents over the years have convinced him of the importance of appearing before such audiences.

For instance, about 10 years ago he served as a judge for a gumbo cooking contest at Milwaukee's Silver Spring Neighborhood Center. "My mother's side hailed from Louisiana on their way to Chicago," he says of his credentials. "So we cooked gumbo in my family. I cook gumbo."

At the contest, all three gumbo judges were, in fact, Milwaukee County judges - Stanley Miller (now deceased), Russell Stamper, and Butler - and they were introduced as judges to the community center crowd. As they performed their culinary judging duties, they couldn't help but notice a group of African-American teenage boys seated at the foot of the stage, staring at them. It got to the point that one of the three judges, all of whom were also African-American, felt compelled to ask the young men if they needed something.

"I'll never forget the look on one young man's face," Butler recalls, "as he looked up at the three of us and said, `I've never seen a black judge before.'"

Usually, when he appears before young people, Butler is talking, not tasting. He speaks about what he knows: the value of trying even if you end up failing, working hard for what you want, and setting your goals high.

"I have this theory that whatever your goals are in life," he says, "you're going to fall just short. If your goal is way up here, even if you fall short you'll have done so much. If your goal is way down here, you have nowhere to go. I really believe that."

He also talks to youth about not letting others block their way. One of Butler's high school counselors, for instance, once told him he wasn't smart enough to get into U.W.-Madison. Years later, having been admitted to the U.W. Law School, "I got my revenge," he says with a laugh.

There's one other topic Butler can speak to, a subject he knows well and that resonates with many of his young audiences: how to survive day-by-day in a tough neighborhood. He tells his stories about being determined to stay out of gangs, of getting beaten on his first day at Chicago's South Shore High School because he wouldn't surrender his lunch money to pay gang dues.

"I was at the Urban Day School in Milwaukee about two weeks ago," Butler says, "and I was watching the recognition on their faces (as they related to his experiences). These were fifth and sixth graders. These things are happening to them now. They need help now, not later."

The Urban Day School is just one of Butler's many recent and upcoming speaking venues: North High School in Appleton, Gateway Technical College in Kenosha, a United Auto Workers banquet in Kenosha, the U.W. Law School's Legal Education Opportunities banquet, the East High School commencement in Madison, a Zion Missionary Baptist Church dinner in Milwaukee, the St. Patrick's Day parade in Madison, Superior High School ... and the list goes on.

Normally, he does several speaking engagements each week. On the suggestion that perhaps he's doing more of these than he would need to do, in light of his already hefty workload, Butler laughs and responds simply, "Who, me?"

Making History

Butler knows, and his colleagues assure him, that the day will come when it will get easier to keep pace with his job demands and he'll have more time for his family. "I also have to figure out how to work golf into my schedule," he adds. "I haven't seen a golf club in a long time, and it's getting to be that time of year."

But this mid-March afternoon, a Friday, the suitcases sit waiting by the window. The bigger one soon will be loaded with briefs, petitions, and other paperwork that will consume Butler's weekend at home in Milwaukee.

"It does take a tremendous amount of energy to do this job correctly," he says, "and I feel strongly about doing it correctly. I understand that I am but one of seven, and in the scheme of seniority, I am No. 7. As a member of this court, I can do nothing unless I can persuade three others to join me. The only way you can do that is if you are prepared. I have to read this stuff. I have to figure out how to talk to my fellow justices about how we're going to decide these issues. I have a great deal of respect for the people I work with, because I know what they're putting into this job. I know how hard they work because I know what I'm doing."

As he performs his daily tasks of reading, writing, conferring with court colleagues, and speaking to outside groups, Butler also is doing something else by just being here. He's making history as Wisconsin's first African-American supreme court justice.

The state's historical accounts will make note of that fact for many decades to come, long after Butler is gone. How else would he like to be remembered someday for his tenure on the state supreme court?

"When people look at my decisions 20 years from now," he says, "I would hope most people will see me as a justice who worked hard to interpret and apply the law, and who cared about our Constitution. I hope they'll see that I cared about process, not results. I don't think it's appropriate to decide a case and then figure out how to get there. I think you let the process take you where you need to go."

Wisconsin Lawyer