Judge Anthony J. Scirica honored at Supreme Court

Anthony J. Scirica is blushing.

For the last 20 minutes, the judge on the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Third Circuit has been listening to his colleagues describe him as brilliant, compassionate, ethical, wise, and fair. Two sitting Supreme Court justices have praised him for his inspiring leadership, subtle insight, generous spirit, and unflappable calm.

In their attempts to do justice to Scirica's character and accomplishments, the speakers, jurists of national prominence all, have quoted Aristotle on practical wisdom, the Wizard of Oz on the true measure of a heart, and Shakespeare:

His life was gentle, and the elements

So mix'd in him that Nature might stand up

And say to all the world, "This was a [judge]!"

The occasion, on this Monday afternoon at the U.S. Supreme Court, is to honor Scirica with the Edward J. Devitt Distinguished Service to Justice Award. Sonia Sotomayor led the selection committee and Scirica shares the award with Ann Claire Williams, who serves on the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Seventh Circuit. As Associate Justice Samuel A. Alito Jr. describes it, the award is "like the Nobel Prize for judging."

For a man whose career started 44 years ago in his father's six-lawyer firm in Norristown, the ascent might have been dizzying had it not been carried out, as everything Scirica does, with such measured steps.

As a Republican state legislator in the 1970s, Scirica helped draft Pennsylvania's divorce laws, sentencing guidelines, and witness-immunity act. As a judge in Montgomery County, he sentenced teenage punks for stealing cars and trash haulers for illegal dumping. On the federal bench and appeals court he has written opinions supporting an eight-million-claimant class action suit involving deceptive insurance sales practices and found that citizens do not have a right to carry guns with the serial numbers wiped out.

His reading of the law absolved CBS of responsibility for Janet Jackson's wardrobe malfunction and upheld a life sentence for Mumia Abu-Jamal. He has discreetly reviewed allegations of bad behavior among his fellow judges, and last year he issued a "bench-slapping" to Ninth Circuit Chief Judge Alex Kozinski for posting pornography on a private website.

Scirica, who turns 70 this year and recently relinquished his position as chief judge of the appeals court, leads committees and conferences that set rules for judicial conduct and manage the relationship between the legislative branch and the courts.

He feels a great responsibility to uphold the honor of a judicial system he says is the envy of the world and to make sure "public confidence in its integrity is preserved."

Scirica is one of the nation's preeminent legal figures, but since most of what he does takes place behind closed doors, in Philadelphia he barely registers on the public's celebrity radar.

"I've always been of the view that the judiciary functions best out of the limelight," he says. "All of our opinions and arguments are public, but we deliberate in private."

The solitary nature of appeals court work requires that he spend most days reading and writing in his spacious office on the 22d floor of the Federal Courthouse. Shortly before receiving the Devitt award, he looked out the wall of windows, far below onto Independence Hall and the Constitution Center.

"Quite the inspiring view, isn't it?" he said.

From the moment he moved in, he said, he was reminded to remain humble. "It was raining hard that day. There was a bucket in that corner. The roof was leaking." The bucket remained for his entire first year until the repairs could be completed.

All four of his grandparents came from Sciacca, Sicily, where he still has relatives. He and his younger sister, Nina, grew up on Johnson Road in Plymouth Township. After graduating from Norristown High School in 1958, he went to Wesleyan, where he double-majored in Romance languages and English and played varsity lacrosse and soccer. "It took care of my energy."

"He possesses a serene and almost overpowering civility," said James Duff, director of the Administrative Office of the U.S. Courts. "It's hard to imagine him whacking anybody with a stick."

But sports seems to be one of the few passions that shatter his implacable calm. Among the awards and legal books on Scirica's bookshelves is a bat signed by Jimmy Rollins. "It was a gift from law clerks," Scirica said, admitting that he fears they only pretend to be fans to please him.

Testifying before the Senate Judiciary Committee, Scirica used an elaborate baseball metaphor to support his friend Sam Alito's nomination to the Supreme Court. "Much like a baseball umpire, a judge calls balls and strikes," he said. "If the pitch is down the middle or way outside, the call is straightforward. But many pitches are on the corners and then the calls are difficult. These cases require hard thought, and these are the cases where a judge earns his or her keep."

Ten years ago, Scirica quit running. "Knees and back," he said. But he plays tennis, rides his bike on Forbidden Drive, and fly-fishes for trout when he visits his grandchildren in Idaho.

Both Scirica's children, Ben and Sara, were athletes as well. "I don't think he missed a single sporting event in my 10 years at Germantown Friends," said Ben, now a cardiologist in Boston. "He made it to all my sister's field hockey games, too."

And when Ben was in college at Williams in western Massachusetts, he played baseball and soccer. "My dad would make these heroic road trips to be there for midday games."

Scirica also taught his children to write. "He would pull out his red pen and go through my papers changing verbs from passive to active voice, simplifying passages." He believed in clarity.

"Make this more straightforward," Ben recalled his father saying. "Develop this thought."

Ben's parents met at the University of Michigan when Scirica was in law school. Susan Scirica, his mother, is a reading specialist at Germantown Friends School. His sister teaches special education in Idaho.

When Ben was growing up, he said, his father handled every problem with remarkable composure.

"I'm trying to think if I've ever heard him raise his voice. I can't even imagine," he said. "When things get hectic, he gets even calmer."

But with his four grandchildren, Scirica cuts loose, Ben said. "He knows what gets them going. And he was smart enough to pick the Italian grandfather name Nonno, because it's the first sound a kid makes."

At the Devitt ceremony, it is Alito's turn to praise Scirica.

With only six minutes allotted and 20 years of friendship to cover, Alito says, he has to be efficient, so here it is: "Philly guy became judge, naturally he done good, persuaded the lion to lay down with the lamb. Everyone cheers."

He elaborates: "Tony exemplifies the best of his native city, and I'm not talking about Phillies fans getting Tasered." He speaks of Scirica's "flashes of subtle brilliance," his ability to persuade opponents to reach consensus, his tact and diplomacy.

By 6 p.m. when the event ends, Scirica's cheeks are flushed. He is caught in a vortex of well-wishers, beneath the crimson- and blue-medallioned ceiling of the nation's highest court.

"This is heartwarming," he allows, his voice soft as snowfall. "Also unreal."