Remembering the Unforgettable Stanford Law Professor Barbara Allen Babcock Legal Trailblazer and Treasured Friend
Welcome to the Tributeboard for Professor Barbara Babcock.
Thank you for keeping contributions to the board limited to 1-2 paragraphs with a photo so that we may accomodate as many posts as possible.
You can find the Equal Rights Advocates tribute and information about the Barbara Babcock NextGen Fund here:
https://www.equalrights.org/viewpoints/remembering-legal-pioneer-barbara-babcock/
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Barbara soaring, with her granddaughter Dinah
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Barbara, glowing, with her granddaughter Dinah
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My life with Barbara began in 1970, when she flew up to New Haven once a week to teach Yale Law's first Women and the Law class. She was, as many have since noted, an inspiring teacher, but more important, she was the first woman lawyer whose path and passion I hoped to emulate. In those days, the few female professors (Yale had one) tried to look and sound no different than their male counterparts. Barbara was sui generis, both personally and in the way she approached law. She was fearlessness in the face of male affronts and was absolutely dedicated to justice. There are many stories of her going head to head with judges in a ways that few lawyers, let alone the only woman in the court, would dare to do.
A little over a year later, after I had graduated, we became fast friends when she followed MY lead in moving to Northern California. While I was a humble Legal Aid lawyer in Oakland, she joined the Stanford Law faculty. However, by then I was the veteran of all things California, so I was able to introduce her to the naked beach on Half Moon Bay, among other delights. Our relationship became even closer when I met and later married Bill Schaffer, one of her favorite lawyers at the Public Defender Service when she was the director. She returned to DC when she was chosen by President Jimmy Carter to head the Civil Division of DOJ. She chose Bill to be her Deputy, even though the Attorney General, Griffen Bell, was under the impression that the choice was his to make. Nope.
Barbara tried with all her might to move the Civil Division to adopt justice instead of winning as the goal, and had some limited success, although what progress was made has no doubt been scuttled by subsequent adminisrations. It almost makes you wish for a Deep State! She stayed at DOJ for two years, which included many a wonderful evenings with her, and for Bill, exciting times in the law. She left to return to Standford and Tom (although probably in the reverse order of importance) Before she left, she came to our wedding. I am sending along photographs of her at that 1979 event which I hope someone can attach to this tribute.
We remained life long fast friends, visiting each other in California and in Maine, where Bill and I landed after leaving Washington. Barbara was truly one of a kind--brilliant, hilarious, kind, generous and unrelenting, whether it was for a client, a friend or family member, or Clara Foltz (whose biography I wrongly teased her would never be finished). Like all great people, she lives on in all the people she touched.
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I had the great privilege of being Barbara's student twice in law school. She was an exceptional teacher...passionate, warm, funny, and kind. She had a gift for encouraging student engagement, and she could restate almost anything a student said in a way that made it wise and insightful. Now that I'm a teacher myself, I hold her as a role model and an inspiration.
May Barbara's memory be for blessing.
Julie Matlof Kennedy
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The world is a diminished place with Barbara gone. But, she left behind a legacy that is an inspiration to so many.
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Barbara was a dear friend and a valued colleague from the time of her arrival at SLS, shortly after I joined the faculty, to the end of her life. She was singularly warm and unpretentious, which made it a pleasure to share her company, and accounted for her inspirational character in the classroom. Along with these laudable traits, she possessed a wonderful sense of humor, and cared deeply for the welfare of others. She is irreplaceable.
Bob Rabin
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Prof. Babcock taught me Civ Pro as a 1L. I will never forget and will be forever impressed by her energy, wit and humor -- her palpable sense of joy. She gave our class (and all of her classes) one of the best pieces of advice I've ever received: "Good ethics IS good tactics." It was so heartening to hear my own view of the world and my own inclinations reinforced by someone with so much more knowledge and experience. Those words are true both within the world of law and in every aspect of life. I still live by them, today and always.
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I met Barbara Babcock when she was the faculty moderator for the Equal Rights Advocates Law Clinic in which I participated as a second year law student. It was a tribute to Barbara’s charisma and reputation at the Law School that a bunch of us took no other classes for a semester in order to participate in the clinic. Barbara and the ERA crew (Nancy, Wendy, Mary, and Joan) put together a powerful combination of academic law, direct experience on real cases, and simulated lawyering. We learned at warp speed both broadly and deeply. And they were fun – the people, the work, and the parties as well.
Barbara in that setting taught me a great deal about practicing law, about being a woman in law, and about being a human being. My sharpest recollection is of a simulated argument seeking a preliminary injunction for a 10 year old girl to play on the “boys’ soccer team.” Barbara’s advice: make it personal; make it real; show the human face and the human impact. Give the judge something to relate to in this little girl’s desire to play. The power and persuasiveness are in the details. That advice has guided me in law, in teaching high school students, and now in working with immigrant families. It has served me well professionally and in every aspect of life.
Barbara’s life – with students and colleagues, with her family and friends, with strangers to whom she so quickly connected – was a life in details. Vibrant and compelling details. She shared herself with us intellectually, emotionally, socially, politically. And at every turn, you could watch Barbara making a difference precisely because she attended to the details. She made a difference at the D.C. public defenders’ office, at Stanford Law School, at ERA, in federal government and policy. And she made a difference in many, many individual lives. Thank you, Barbara. PRESENTE, Barbara. You will live on for a long, long time.
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From the time I first met Barbara, upon joining the DC Public Defender in 1970, she was an inspiration and a source of joy. I learned to be a lawyer through her tutelage. She loved the law and was committed to the highest level of practice and a system of equal justice. She was determined to provide poor people with the same level of representation as the wealthy clients she had represented in the Williams firm. She put in enormous effort to make the PDS the best public defender office in the country. Barbara's total attention to detail was at the base of her success, in the courtroom, in building multiple organizations, and in the classroom. But she succeeded beyond others because of her unique combination charm, humor, and passion that moved and motivated jurors, colleagues, and students. Barbara cared deeply about her clients, students, and friends. As reflected in all of the tributes, Barbara will remain deep in the hearts and thoughts of all the people whose lives she protected, supported, and enriched.
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Barbara taught the very first class I took in law school, and she had me at "welcome." She was always larger than life. When I began teaching, I realized that in addition to Civil and Criminal Procedure, she had taught me key lessons to being a good professor: Tell a compelling story. Don't make things more complicated than they need to be. Use humor, and don't be afraid to laugh at yourself. Have role models, but trust that you will find your own way. And above all, treat each student with compassion, kindness, and respect -- basically, as a human being. Whenever I have the pleasure of watching a student's look of confusion give way to a knowing nod, I hear her voice in my ear.
She will be missed.
Joan Krause, Professor, UNC School of Law
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Professor Babcock changed the course of my life dramatically and in the best possible way. As far as I know, I was accepted into Stanford Law School the year that Professor Babcock reviewed the applications. I have always assumed she is the reason that I was accepted. My masters in Women’s Studies might have piqued her interest and my law review article on postmodern feminist jurisprudence probably sealed the deal. This has always connected me to her although I have no idea if it is true.
This is not to say law school was all rosey. My first semester I was distraught because no one was mentioning that a reasonable person was actually a reasonable man. I considered dropping out -- I thought it was all a big mistake to be in law school. I went to see Professor Babcock. She listened as my younger self tearily described the torture of being invisible in Torts. And she said, “Just get the tools, get the tools and then go fight after.” And that was what I did and she was so right.
She guided me many times over the next three years and the following twenty. I didn’t get a clerkship after I applied to many during my 2L year. I went to her tearily and wondered what I should do. She said, “Apply again your third year. You’ll have more experience to show for then. Everyone is doing it.” And I did and she was so right. My time clerking for Judge Thelton Henderson also drew me closer to her and her unique, esteemed loving family which I felt so honored to be a witness to.
As a public defender, when I was deciding whether to put my client on the stand, her words rang in my head (Yes!). When I was afraid to speak up, I did. (Objection!) When I knew there was an injustice but I didn’t know what to do, her words guided me (Just write a motion asking for what you think is right!)
She’s been co-counsel in all my cases as I imagine in thousands and thousands of others. There’s more justice in this world because of her. There was more fun in this world because of her and there was more love in this world because of her. I love her dearly and am so honored to have known her and will miss her for the rest of my life.
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For: Barbara Babcock
From: Chuck Lawrence
“Chuck dear,” that’s how Barbara Babcock addressed me, her salutation in letters, cards and emails or when I dropped by her office or showed up at Tom and Barbara’s house. It did not matter that I knew that Barbara called many people “dear” or that this was a common southern speech inflection, I knew that I was dear to Barbara and she was dear to me. Many people will remember Barbara Babcock as a brilliant lawyer, inspiring teacher, thoughtful scholar and for the many barriers she broke, making a way for other women. She was all of these, but above all I remember Barbara’s friendship. When I came to teach at Stanford in 1984, I was the law school’s second black faculty member. My colleagues welcomed me and were friendly, but I often felt like a stranger in a strange land. I was impatient with the law school’s whiteness, and it often fell to me to push my colleagues to confront our collective racism, sexism and homophobia and to speak in support of students who were challenging us to change. Despite my colleagues’ warm welcome and good intentions, I often felt alone and lonely at Stanford.
Barbara was my best friend during those years in Palo Alto. Barbara and Tom’s kitchen was a refuge, a place where I could be myself. Barbara would pour us a glass of wine and we’d tell stories to one another, about our parents, siblings, children, friends, and ex-lovers. We mostly laughed and occasionally cried. Barbara had a rare gift of knowing how to be intimate with a friend, to share feelings and confidences, to regard the other with care and love and accept care and love in return. She loved to gossip and yet, if I told her a real secret, I knew my secret was safe with her. Of course, Tom would hear it. That was understood.
As I write this, I know that I am not the only one that knew this Barbara friendship. I know this because when Barbara loved you, she wanted above all to share you with other friends. She was a matchmaker at heart, a matchmaker of friends and lovers. Mari Matsuda and I count Barbara as one of the first instigators of our love. She always claimed credit for first seeing that we were the perfect match and for pushing our relationship along when Mari came to visit at Stanford. She was in love with each of us. Each of us loved her and we have loved her together since that first push.
We miss you Barbara Babcock, beautiful, brilliant, loving woman. All of your lovers miss you something fierce.
Chuck
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I was among the many who were fortunate enough to have Prof. Babcock for Criminal Procedure. To this day, I can still hear, "RAS: reasonable articulable suspicion ... the p'lice must have a reasonable b'lief for a traffic stop," in her warm, beautiful southern inflection, in my head. While I didn't go on to practice criminal law, or to practice for long, Prof. Babcock made an enduring contribution to my future vocation when she steered me in the direction of Georgetown's Women's Law and Public Policy Fellowship. Sometime later, her law school roommate, Cong. Eleanor Holmes Norton referred to me as one of, "Barbara's girls," when I shared that I had undertaken the fellowship -- the board of which both Barbara and Congresswoman Norton sat --at Barbara's behest. I've had an amazing career, primarily in the women's issues policy space because as so many have shared, Barbara was there with wise counsel and encouragement. I am eternally in her debt, and miss her profoundly.
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For the past several months, I've been struggling to find the words to express the impact that Barbara's life, and now her death, have had on me. She was such an extraordinary person and inspiration - a female role model and mentor at a time when those were too few and far between. I count my blessings to have found myself in her small section of students (one of only five women) in 1972, when she and I were both newcomers to Stanford Law; and to have served as her Special Assistant at DOJ shortly after my graduation. I'm grateful to have seen Barbara and Tom in my home town, New York City, when Barabara delivered the 2018 RBG Distinguished Lecture on Women and the Law, and then to have shared an intimate dinner with them at their home this past fall.
At that last gathering, I learned that "Clara Foltz" was available as an audiobook - narrated by the author, no less! Upon my return to New York, I spent blissful hours listening to Barbara recounting Clara Foltz's life. I then mentally composed (and recomposed) an email to Barbara, describing how much the experience of hearing her voice, and hearing her tell Foltz's story, meant to me; to my everlasting regret, that email remained in my head, forever unsent.
I will miss that voice, and the remarkable person behind that voice, who guided me in countless ways as I struggled to find my place as a young professional and as a woman in a man's world. Barbara was (as we say in the business) sui generis, and her tragic passing breaks my heart, creating a void that will last a lifetime.
Along with these words I include images of Barbara that I captured in 1972, not long after she and I first met. These are my gift to Barbara's friends and family, and especially Tom.
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Barbara Babcock was the heart and soul of Stanford Law School.
For the faculty she was the glue that made us family. For generations of students she was a window into all that is good and true in those who devote themselves to justice. She modeled the compassion and absolute dedication that mark the noblest criminal defense lawyers. And she brought to her teaching the same humor and folksy wisdom that made her indomitable in court and a heroine to her clients.
We will miss her plain-spoken insight, her keen sense of right and wrong, and her unfailing warmth. So too will thousands of students, readers, and former clients—those she touched through word and deed. Most of all we’ll miss her homey wit and her stories, told with her delicious Arkansas twang.
Of all her stories my favorite dates to her early days as a public defender. A prosecutor objected to a question the young “lady lawyer” posed at trial:
PROSECUTOR: Objection. The question calls for hearsay.
JUDGE: Sustained.
[At sidebar.]
BAB: Your Honor, I have to have this evidence.
JUDGE: It’s hearsay, Miss Babcock.
BAB: Yes, I know. But I have to have this evidence.
JUDGE: But—
BAB: I just have to have it.
JUDGE: Oh, well. Objection’s overruled.
PROSECUTOR: Your Honor, it’s hearsay!
JUDGE: I know. But she says she has to have it.
We all can understand the judge’s dilemma. On one side was the law. On the other side were Barbara Babcock, her unyielding devotion to her clients, and her power to win a point by sheer force of personality.
Paying tribute to Barbara demands we honor too her most faithful fan and supporter, who attended her lectures, laughed at her stories, and walked with her to the end, giving her constant care and attention. Every tribute to Barbara is a tribute as well to Tom Grey.
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I met Barbara during my 1L year at Stanford Law School. By that time, she was already retired, but still took an active interest in meeting and mentoring new students. Given her warm, welcoming, and unpretentious nature, we quickly became close, and I had the privilege of helping her finalize her biography on Clara Foltz and shepherd it to publication.
During my three years in law school, Barbara and I spent many afternoons around the dining table in her home, talking about Clara's accomplishments and the impact she made. During this time, I also learned so much about Barbara's life, including the extraordinary (how she became the first female professor at Stanford Law School) and the ordinary (how she wanted to teach her granddaughter Dinah to play jacks because she had loved to play as a child). By the time the book was ready for publication, I felt I truly understood why she was drawn to Clara in such a compelling way; both were true visionaries and trailblazers during their time.
One of my favorite memories of Barbara is from one of her book signings where she said to a young woman: "You look familiar. Did you go to Stanford Law School?" The woman replied that she did but that she didn't remember if she had Barbara as a professor. Barbara looked at her, smiled, and said, "Oh dearie, if you'd had me as a professor, you would remember."
I have no doubt this statement is true. Barbara certainly left a lasting impression on me, and we are all better for having known her.
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Remembering Barbara
By Cathy Torney
Like many others, I knew about Barbara before I met her. I worked with her brother, Starr, for many (20+)years at The State Bar of California and he often talked with pride about his sister. He also invited her to speak to the attorneys who worked at the Bar, and to the Equal Rights Advocates, which rented space in our building. And he gave copies of her books which had been signed by Barbara, to attorneys and staff in our office. He was so proud of her, and when we met her, she didn’t disappoint.
In our “later years”, after we retired, Starr and I ended up together and I got to meet and know Barbara as part of the family. She was welcoming and warm. She was witty and interesting. She was down to earth and easy to be around. She was also very brave. A few years after I met her, she was diagnosed with cancer for the third time and was told that she had months to live. But she did not let her illness keep her down. She continued to welcome friends and students to her home for visits and meals. She attended events. She watched her beloved Warriors on tv. She continued to squeeze every ounce out of life that she could. Starr would say that she was a “force to be reckoned with”.
She left this life with a huge following of people who loved her, students who adored her and coworkers who admired her. And all will miss her dearly.
She was the epitome of “A Life Well Lived.”
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Barbara and her brother, David, with their mother, Doris.
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Barbara and her brother, David.
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I had the incredible great fortunate to take Barbara Babcock's small seminar on women's legal history during my 3L year at Stanford Law School. My experience with Barbara was remarkable in three ways. The first is that I actually was pregnant and then gave birth to my first daughter during that semester, and Barbara was incredibly supportive throughout the experirence (and actually the only actively supportive person at the law school). In fact, I remember vividly that she convened the final meeting of the class at her home, and she insisted that I bring my daughter, Emma, who was just 4 weeks old. She was gracious, lovely, and caring - with that deep warmth and authenticity that she brought to everything. It was a rare moment of being fully included in a law school event as a new mom. Not only did it mean the world to me, but it set the stage for what I would strive to do as a parent - to try to be fully present to both my career and parenting. Second, I had the incredible experience of acting in a play to celebrate the installment of Barbara as the first Judge John Crown Professor of Law at SLS - a re-enactment of the trail of Lizzie Borden. I played Lizzie, Barbara defended me, and the judges were Justices O'Connor and Rehnquist - and the audience voted as the jury. Of course with Barbara as defense counsel, the audience/jury voted to acquit me! And finally, I had the incredible experience of writing my paper in Barbara's seminor on Catherine Waugh McCulloch, the first woman elected as justice of the peace in Illinois (in 1907). I fell head over heels in love with Catherine, pouring over her original writings, letters, plays, and papers on microfiche. A few years later, Catherine's descendants found my paper on the Women's Legal History website, and we have remained in touch. In fact, I just participated in the filming of a documentary about Catherine's life, which will be released later this year as part of the commemoration of the 100th anniversary of the ratification of the 19th amendment. I feel like Barbara introduced me to Catherine through her class - and both of these women have been true role models throughout my career and my life. I honestly cannot imagine what my law school experience would have been like without Barbara - as a role model, educator, caring presence, and a friend. She was a force of nature, and my life was all the better for it. She will be sorely missed by so many of us.
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Stanford Law Professor Barbara Babcock helped develop ERA’s early legal work combatting sex discrimination at work and school.
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Tribute of Drucilla Ramey: As Board Chair of Equal Rights Advocates, and a career-long friend, mentee, and devotée of Barbara Babcock for over 50 years, it is my great honor to contribute this tribute. The truth is, as long as Barbara Babcock was around, no woman had to worry about being the first woman anything ... Please click here to see my full tribute, which details Barbara's extraordinary life and our friendship since Yale Law School in 1970: https://www.equalrights.org/viewpoints/remembering-barbara-babcock-a-friend-to-the-least-among-us/
Throughout her life, and up through her final illness, I always saw Barbara, outside of my mother, as my greatest mentor. As many have and will write, she was a civil rights giant—a brilliant, charismatic, extraordinarily accomplished, extremely funny woman, who adored her husband, Tom Grey, her stepdaughter and all of her family, and who was dedicated to advancing equality for those whom society labels as the least among us. I count myself as among the luckiest of women for having been her friend.
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Barbara, her treasured husband Tom, and cherished granddaughter Dinah
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Barbara was the kind of mentor who would take you out for a glass (or two) of wine and then give it to you straight ("you haven't cracked the code yet!" she once said), because she knew what you were up against and she wanted you to shine. I only got to know her personally later in her life (when I was a Grey Fellow, 2008-11), though as a PDS alum I knew of her legendary status already. What struck me was her confidence and her unusual combination of realism and optimism. And her wonderful voice and turns of phrase. I loved hearing her joke about her obsession with Clara F. as she was finishing the book. I wouldn't be the academic or woman I am without her guidance. This May, shortly after hearing of Barbara's passing, I gave a few of my graduating Berkeley Law mentees a copy of Fish Raincoats, hoping that I was half the mentor to them that Barbara was to me. -- Andrea Roth
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"Professor Babcock," as I knew her, was a remarkable professor and remarkable person. From day one in my 1L Civil Procedure class, until the last day as a 3L in Advanced Criminal Procedure and Women in the Legal Profession, she took me, and every other student, under her wing. Even years after I graduated, she took the time to say she had read an article I had published, and that she was following my work. How she found the care and the time to do that, for me and so many others, I'll never know.
Professor Babcock challenged us, supported us, listened to us, and made us laugh. I'll never forget the time, in Criminal Procedure, when she had written "IGNORAMUS" on the board behind her when we were discussing a case. She happened to be getting a professional teaching photo taken that day, and at the end of class, well after the photographer had left, she looked behind her and then back at us and exclaimed, "Y'all let me get my photo taken with THAT behind my head?!" We all, Professor Babcock included, erupted in laughter. She could laugh at herself; she humanized everything and everyone she came across. I will miss her light.
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Barbara had an abundance of the quality that made her so successful as an educator, activist, administrator and lawyer: wisdom (intelligence and a superb understanding of people). Also, she was just plain fun to be around.
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I was incredibly lucky to take several classes from Barbara at SLS, and loved her perfect mixture of sass, advocacy, brilliance, and down-home expressions and stories. She cared so deeply about people from all walks of life, and was an incredible mentor to me and other students commited to public interest work. I remember having a conversation with her once about clerking, and I said I was more interested in skipping a clerkship and going straight into practicing public interest law. She said, "Yeah, I had you pegged as someone who can't wait to go raise hell." This photo is from 2007, when the Public Interest program hosted a reunion for alumni who were Skadden Fellows. I think it was just random that I'm sitting to her right, but judging from my big smile (and everyone else's) I suspect she probably just said something hilarious to make us all smile for the camera. Every encounter with her after graduation - in person or over email - was a delight, and she never stopped encouraging me to be the best advocate I could be for my clients, myself, and other women in the profession.
My thoughts are with Tom and her family; it is so unfortunate that given the current pandemic, the community of people upon whose lives she had such a great impact cannot gather in person to remember and celebrate this wonderful woman, and provide palpable support to her loved ones. I re-read Fish Raincoats after her passing and I could hear her voice on every page.
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I am sharing my last email to Barbara. I don't know if she ever saw it, but it sums up my feelings about her. I was so lucky to have known her: "I am writing to tell you how much you’ve meant to me as a mentor and a friend. It would be hard for me to describe how much your support buoyed me during my time at Stanford. I suppose I felt, as so many women often do, like some sort of fraud when I arrived. By becoming one of your “defender girls” I felt some sense of belonging and courage. I think it also helped me find the confidence to just start writing about the things I knew best – the nitty gritty of criminal practice.
But in addition to being a terrific mentor, you also always have been one hell of a good time! Cheese and crackers with you over salty stories and gossip is about as much fun as I can have. I have so many fond memories of sitting in your living room, soaking up your wisdom about the world.
Barbara, thank you for your friendship, support, mentorship and kindness to me. I promise to pass it onto a woman scholar who comes up after me. You’re a model of what a person should be." Thea Johnson
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I absolutely adored Barbara. We met each other in the mid 1980s at an AALS professional workshop for women law professors where we were both presenting. "After the Brass Ring" sticks in my memory, but maybe that was only my panel. In any event we had an immediate connection. Her generosity, her kindness, and her wit stand out and I treasure every second I spent with her -- whether at a conference or at a private dinner. She always made the room light up.
I love the testimonials of all her students. Yes, you were always special to her. I learned that from the many Stanford students I have interviewed over my life on appointments committees at the University of Texas and the University of Iowa. One story stands firm in my memory. It happened at Iowa. A female applicant started talking about Barbara and quoted Barbara as saying something like: "Sweetheart you have just let the camel's nose into the tent." I had a colleague who was dismayed and asked: "She called you sweetheart?" And I retorted: "You have obviously never met Barbara Babcock." We were all sweethearts to her as she was to us. There will never be another sweetheart like her. I miss her presence in this world terribly.
Pat Cain, Professor of Law, Santa Clara University
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Barbara Babcock was a great woman and inspiration to me and so many. I didn't have her as a teacher, but I know the wonderful impact she had on students. As the first woman law professor at Stanford, she made room for so many more at a difficult time. She was brilliant, helpful, and funny-. Although we weren't close friends, she showed up for me many times in my career and life. And we had some amusing times together--as when we went after then-Pres. Tom Erlich of IU at a formal dinner, criticizing his stance on ROTC and LGBT folks, sorta politely.
May she always be remembered as a wonderful human being, lawyer, and professor. I will always hold her in my heart.
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Even those of us who write for a living sometimes cannot find words adequate to the occasion. It is impossible for me now to sum up what Barbara Babcock meant to me, and to the communities we shared-- Stanford Law School and women legal academics and activists. Barbara was the first female faculty member at the law school, and for more years than I care to count, there were only two of us. And for decades after that, there were only a few, because, we were told, other female candidates were unqualified or unavailable. My life during those years would have been unimaginable without Barbara’s love, support, mentoring, and example. And I was not alone in that. For many women students and colleagues at Stanford and elsewhere throughout the nation, she gave unstintingly of her time and talents. She made every place she touched immeasurably better. She taught us all so much about not just law, and women’s rights and forgotten women leaders, but also about life-- how to find meaning, purpose, and love in the work we do and in the relationships we forge. I am in her debt in more ways than I can express, but I am grateful to have this one more opportunity to try.
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Me and Dorothy and Barbara: A Tribute to the Inspiration of Professor Barbara Babock
By Shanti Brien (SLS ‘99)
I met my new client in the stale, crowded lobby of the courthouse. Dorothy, with long
gray hair parted down the middle, hunched her shoulders over a legal file exploding with
papers, Post-Its, and receipts. You might have taken her for an ex-hippie or soft-spoken
librarian. Dorothy was a lawyer, too, and a mother who supported her adopted nine-year-old
daughter by working as a contract attorney. She was also a convicted felon. I was her appellate
attorney. I thought she looked exactly like Professor Barbara Babcock, the person who inspired
me to become a criminal defense attorney and to help people like Dorothy.
On my first day at Stanford Law School, Barbara Babock stood tall before my class in the
packed auditorium and cried out, “You’ve arrived!” Professor Babcock reassured us that we did
not need to stress or fight to the death with classmates for the best grades. We had earned
admittance into one of the best law schools in the country, and we should soak in that
knowledge. We should maybe even have a good time doing it.
“You,” she reiterated, “have made it!”
The “first” woman in many of her posts, Professor Babcock was a bit of a legal celebrity.
She was the leader of the Civil Rights Division of the Justice Department, and then professor at
Stanford. I came to Stanford from a lifetime of public schools and although my new classmates
seemed at ease, focused and confident, I felt nervous and dizzy. I often wanted to throw up; I
wanted so badly to do well. Probably hundreds or even thousands of students, particularly the
first year women in her audiences, remember this speech. Somehow I thought she was talking
right to me.
Professor Babcock had been a public defender before coming to Stanford. She loved
trials. She spoke of them with nostalgia and a sweet slightly-southern twang. She didn’t have
the sarcasm or toughness that people associate with trial attorneys. Criminal defense lawyers
especially have the reputation of being brash and loud or slick-talking and smooth. Babcock was
neither; she just appreciated the art of telling one person’s story, telling her client’s story so the
jury understood and had compassion for another person in a tough spot.
Professor Babcock was kind; she empathized with our stress and massive anxiety. She
spoke slowly. Her voice matched the soft curls that framed her wide, welcoming face. But her
Justice Department credentials and tenured professorship at Stanford Law School meant she
was brilliant, too, no question. I wanted to be her.
I got an externship as a public defender in Oakland.
“In summary, Your Honor, my argument is that the defendant did not cause the great
bodily injury, but instead, the victim is responsible for her own injuries. She is the one who
decided to jump out the window. There were other, far less dramatic and dangerous ways for
her to leave the fight she was in with the defendant.”
This concluded my argument as a certified student extern in the Alameda County
Superior Court. I prepared my argument for weeks; it was not a legally complex one, but it was
my first, and in front of a real judge.
The courtroom was crowded with defendants shackled in orange jumpsuits, uniformed
bailiffs with big beer bellies yawning with boredom, and court reporters in tight skirts typing
frantically. Family members, girlfriends, and babies filled the wooden benches to capacity.
Almost exclusively, lawyers came to the podium when they heard their case name— “People
versus Jones!”—yelled out by the courtroom clerk, where they asked for more time. “A
continuance” was the most favorite request.
When my case was called, I sped to the table, nervous. The whole crowded court
paused. I wasn’t asking for any cookie cutter continuance or arraignment. I was actually going
to say something.
I began slowly. The judge interrupted and asked questions, genuinely interested.
“I will take this matter under submission,” he ended formally, then added, “You did a
fine job, young lady.”
I smiled. “Thank you, Your Honor.”
I turned toward the restless crowd of defendants and girlfriends and lawyers and
parents. Halfway down the aisle, a big African American guy flapped his hand out toward me.
“Excuse me, ma’am.” He wore a tie he may have borrowed from a dead uncle. “Can I
have one of your cards?”
Oh my gosh! Thank you!” I said, completely unprofessional. “I’m just a law student. I
don’t have any cards and I can’t really represent you.”
When he looked disappointed, turning his attention back to the judge who kept the
chaos rolling, I understood that I could be a good lawyer. Young and inexperienced, I could still
craft an argument and help people stuck in this sweaty mass of humanity, caught in the
churning criminal justice system.
Right at the end of law school, Professor Babcock had dinner with a small group of
women from our class who wanted to become criminal defense lawyers. She had inspired us all
and we felt fantastically honored to be spending a whole evening with her, eating and laughing
as if we were old friends.
During a stint at a big firm after graduation, I would think back to that dinner and crave
work that was more human, work that involved personal and compelling stories. I missed the
grit of prisons and the gravel of everyday lives filled with faults and family dramas.
Eventually, I became the lawyer who told a person’s story. I always felt like it was a
privilege to do that, to have the attention of the judges on the California Court of Appeal or the
Ninth Circuit and to have the trust of my clients that I would tell their story to those important
people with skill and compassion.
I told Dorothy’s story to the California Court of Appeal and we won reversal on one
issue. I have helped hundreds of other people convicted of crimes and wasting away in prisons.
I often don’t get the result I would like with the standards of review in the appellate courts
being what they are, but I am usually satisfied that I listened to my clients and their families, I
shared my time and attention and empathy and expertise. Barbara Babcock inspired me to do
that. I believe she would think that I “arrived.”
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Rereading Fish Raincoats a few weeks ago, I was struck by Barbara’s ‘I have been blessed by love and friendship.’ When I think of our friendship, I am reminded of the words on a sampler I have known since childhood: ‘’Friendship is the perfection of love.’ Barbara and I met in the second grade, remained friends for 75 years, and closed our friendship with long talks, just as it had begun. Almost every day between February and April, we talked on the telephone for an hour or more — Barbara in Palo Alto and me eight time zones away in London. We talked of life and love, of family and friends, of favourite books and poems. And we laughed. And did homework. We selected some of Shakespeare’s sonnets and discussed one a day, following the poignant motif of time, puzzling over some sonnets, being enthusiastic about others, not keen on a few, and constant always to the ones we had first read in high school. In her ‘Afterword: About Remembering,’ Barbara refers to the epiphany Sonnet 77 once offered her. Now I remember it as one of the first ones on our list.
Photo: Barbara, Tom, and Patsy, London 2013
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Barbara Babcock was the best teacher I ever had, the “mother in the law” I deeply needed and dearly loved, and a kindred spirit I will miss forever.
Being in Barbara’s presence was to be seen and heard, charmed and persuaded, nurtured and inspired. She changed my life in law school, as she did so many, by mentoring me and bringing me into the ranks of the defenders. And then a decade later, she changed my life again, bringing me into the fellowship of writers, as we worked to adapt her magnificent biography of Clara Foltz into a play. Over several years and countless drafts, emails, visits, and meals with her and Tom, this endeavor took us on a host of adventures with Clara, including a summer residency at the Berkeley Repertory Theatre and a high-school production in St. Cloud, Minnesota. I cherished every minute of our time and work together, which was - like Barbara - full of joy and fun.
I loved hearing Barbara speak, of course. She is widely known as a master storyteller, but I always listened most closely in the moments when she offered advice, or even better: exhortation. And so I would like to share what Barbara called The Lessons of Clara, gleaned from her years of research and devotion to her subject. To me, they are the very best guide for how to “live greatly in the law” and build a good life at the same time.
Lesson One: Find your mission.
Lesson Two: Join a movement.
Lesson Three: Stand proudly on the shoulders of those who have come before you.
Lesson Four: Recognize and embrace the necessity of feminism.
And Lesson Five, which is my addition, for I believe that Barbara and Clara, all along the trails they blazed, showed us how this can be done:
If you have a privilege, use it to lift up other people. That is what privilege is for.
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Barbara and friends
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Barbara
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Barbara and her father, Henry, the first attorney she ever knew.
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A slightlyt edited letter to Barbara sent in 2018:
Barbara
I have been meaning to write for a long while to thank you. You may not realize it but you have had a profound influence on my life and I have never fully expressed my gratitude.
For some inexplicable reason, you have been an incredible supporter of mine. Without your influence, I would never have gotten a clerkship with Thelton Henderson. Working for the Honorable TEH was a fantastic, inspiring, challenging and life altering experience.... I became very involved in 22-defendant cocaine distribution conspiracy case that drew on my talents for managing a ton of information, marshalling many specific disparate facts, seeing through the bullshit that was part of both the prosecution and defense cases, and helping the judge sort it all out. My experience on this case was a major motivator in sending me to the San Mateo DA’s office and I loved my many years there.
Both you and Thelton helped me in so many ways to be a better prosecutor (and better person).
I loved your Crim Pro class and learned a ton about the law, of course. More than that, though, I came to understand deeply the imbalance in power between accused and accuser, to learn to listen with a healthy skepticism to the representations of the police (not all, but enough to remember to challenge their accounts when they seemed unlikely), and to recognize that many people who commit crimes are not evil or different than us (as many prosecutors view defendants) but may just be people who made bad choices when they found themselves in difficult circumstances. Thelton reinforced these teachings in many ways – most especially by his humanity and humility in how he dealt with everyone who appeared before him.
You also treated me wonderfully in your class. No surprise: I liked to express my opinion in the classroom. I had a natural “prosecution” perspective even then and my very left-leaning friends would tease me about an occasional somewhat “politically incorrect” comment about the fairness of the justice system or the behavior of a defendant in a case we were covering. You never did so. You listened with care, sometimes pointing out a lack of experience reflected in my comments, and always expressed an appreciation for a diversity of views in the classroom.
Your stories, your teaching, your kindness, your gentleness and your love for what you did came through in every class and made me respect you and your values and your passion for justice and fair treatment for all.
And of course, your support of me and many others on the East Palo Alto Community Law Project was instrumental helping make the effort a success. Our work on the EPACLP was one most meaningful challenges and accomplishments I have ever experienced and your involvement guided us every step of the way.
So, Barbara. Thank you for being a wonderful teacher, inspiration, supporter and mensch. I have great love and admiration for you.
With respect,
Steven
P.S. Your husband is a pretty great guy too.
SLS 1985
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Barbara and husband Tom Grey in 2003.
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Tribute by Noreen Farrell, Executive Director of Equal Rights Advocates: This photo says it all. My treasured friend Barbara Babcock among ERA leaders, past and present. Professor Babcock was pivotal to the launch of ERA in 1974 as one of the nation’s first nonprofit organizations dedicated to ending sex discrimination. Forty-five years later – up until her last days – she continued to encourage me to be bold in our pursuit of gender justice. Barbara believed in the power of women to lead big ideas. No guts, no glory, she would tell me, with a fire in her belly and a twinkle in her eye. As she blazed trails for women in the legal profession, she exemplified for all of us what it means to flip the script of inequity. She found in ERA’s clients kindred spirits breaking barriers for women in the workplace. She mentored thousands, and made as many laugh with uproarious stories of sisterhood and survival - stories we will keep close as we mourn her loss. I am so honored to have had in Barbara a mentor and treasured friend, and I wish her wonderful family, including Tom, Becky, and Dinah, my deepest condolences. You can see my fuller tribute, and learn more about the Barbara Babcock Next Gen Fund, created at her request to support the next generation of feminists, on ERA’s website, at: https://www.equalrights.org/viewpoints/remembering-legal-pioneer-barbara-babcock/
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I first met Barbara in 1979 when as a Stanford undergrad I was teaching a student led course in Introductory Feminism. I needed a faculty sponsor and Barbara was one of the few known feminist scholars on campus. Even in that first encounter, Barbara displayed the qualities I came to love and admire about her: down to earth, warm, funny, encouraging, smart, insightful, irreverent and wise. She became a mentor and friend over the next 40+ years, and in her latter years Barbara even mentored my son who's an aspiring Public Defender. When I was at Stanford Law School and attended Barbara's popular office hours, there would be a long line stretched down the hallway outside Barbara's door. Barbara was the go to professor for women law students, students of color and the LGBTQ students. She nurtured literally hundreds of us interested in social justice work. Just weeks before Barbara died, she participated in a call for Equal Rights Advocates, an organization she co-founded in the 1970s and remained passionate about until the very end. I always make my gifts to Equal Rights Advocates in honor of Barbara because I want to help create the next generation of feminist advocates carrying on Barbara's legacy. Please join me in honoring our dear Barbara by making a gift to Equal Rights Advocates.
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I was so very sad to hear of Barbara's death. She was one of the first faculty members to "take me in" when I arrived at SLS and she always cheered me on, whether it was encouraging me to teach advanced civ pro or applauding my choice of the best route to the 280 from campus! After I joined the faculty, no matter where I was, when I met new people -- whether practicing lawyers or law profs -- they would exclaim that I was so lucky to be on the same faculty with Barbara and women lawyers in particular would tell me how much her encouragement of them when they were students meant to them. She was truly a star in the SLS firmament.
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Barbara Babcock had a profound impact on my life and my career. We “found” each other when I was a 1L at law school, where she was the unofficial shepherd of the handful of us that planned to become public defenders. Her approachability, warmth and charm were particularly endearing given that she was one of the great legal giants of her time (I remember being in her office once and seeing a handwritten note from “Ruth”). To talk to her was to feel special, important, and like you could take on the world. I would go to her office hours just to hear her tell stories--which I think we all liked more than talking about the Rules of Civil Procedure (though she really did love those rules). My favorite story was about when she became the first woman to be Assistant Attorney General for the Civil Division in the Department of Justice. Reporters asked what she thought about getting the job because she’s a woman. Her response: “It’s better than NOT getting the job because I’m a woman.” I’ve always wanted to use that line.
She was the first director of the famed Public Defender Service in Washington, D.C., and she used to say that when she was there, in the nation’s capital, outsmarting prosecutors right and left (her words--but I don’t doubt it for a second), she felt like the “queen of the court!” When I was a public defender in Washington, D.C., I thought of her often as I walked to and from the courthouse, feeling solidarity and purpose. The wonderful judge I clerked for has told me many times that he got a call from Barbara Babcock and hired me on the spot. And as the years passed, whenever I could, I would find time to catch up with her. We would always have white wine and maybe a tasty dessert, where we would jokingly lament about calories and eat it all anyway. She always wanted to know everything about my life and find a way to help. After about 10 years I was even able to stop calling her “Professor.”
As her health wavered this past year, her spirit remained. Never have I known someone so optimistic and so dedicated, even as she lost strength. She wanted desperately to stay on this earth, to keep living, to continue her pursuit of justice. She had another book in mind and was disappointed that she didn’t have the energy to write. But her stories were as good as ever. With the characteristic twinkle in her eye and the skills of a seasoned trial attorney, she told me about how at one point in the previous months, she had lost consciousness, and when she woke up, there were many very (very) attractive young men around her. She thought to herself: “This is it, I must be in heaven!” But really, it was the EMTs who were there to load her into an ambulance. And then she just laughed.
The last time I saw her was the day of the California primary election, and we went back and forth about who could beat Trump. She wanted to be here to see him voted out. For a woman like Barbara, who went to law school when there were no women’s restrooms (and nobody thought that was odd, her included) and whose life work it was to lift up those in need, watching the cruelty and disregard of this administration was infuriating and gut-wrenching. But she didn’t fold--she wanted us to get out there and win.
That afternoon, we spent a lovely couple of hours together, with her dear husband Tom popping in and out to get her whatever she needed. She wanted to talk about my career, my future, and had me tell her about Sister District again because, “I love it, but I still don’t understand what it is that you DO!” Whenever I was at an inflection point in my career, I went to Barbara, and we would come up with a plan. She would build me up and send me back out into the world to keep fighting the fight. And I know it wasn’t just me--somehow, she did this for everyone.
On the last day of Civil Procedure, she gave us this advice--which I wrote down and have kept for the past 19 years:
1. You should always support the right side of the law, and the right side is the one that benefits the greater good of society.
2. In a democracy, there are no secrets. Never say, write, send, or agree to anything that you would be uncomfortable seeing on the front page of a newspaper.
3. The best way to defeat your enemies is to be just. It will drive them crazy and throw them off guard.
4. To be a good lawyer, be a good person.
5. To thine own self be true.
6. Strive for happiness in your life, and the way you find happiness is by doing what you love in work, family, and outside.
It is, as they say, evergreen. She was a true believer. She was my mentor. She was my friend. I will miss her dearly.
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Barbara Babcock was one of the wisest, wittiest, and most generous people I have ever known. I first encountered all of these qualities when she helped save my career at Stanford. We had never met but she called and introduced herself in 1982, just days after I had been denied tenure. A mutual friend had told her about the decision by a dean to reverse my promotion and the implications for feminist scholarship. Barbara reached out to let me know that she was both outraged and “at my service.” I could never thank her enough for that offer. In addition to helping me find the best possible lawyer (Marsha Berzon), Barbara graciously advocated for me, handling the press skillfully, commenting on my grievance, accompanying me to meet with the Provost, and giving me confidence throughout the year and a half of an ultimately successful internal appeal process.
My awe of Barbara never ceased but our relationship transformed into one of colleagues, initially in a feminist biographer’s group where we shared our passions for women’s history. Later she brought her public defender’s insights to my study of the history of sexual violence. Her powerful biography of Clara Foltz and her memoir, Fish Raincoats, preserve an otherwise hidden history of women in the law at distinct historical moments. Each book is a treasure. So, too, were the visits we had over the past few years, talking about books, feminism, the news, and the bad old days of “first women.”
For so long Barbara provided grounding and inspiration for me, as she did for cohorts of students and colleagues at Stanford. I miss her deeply.
Estelle Freedman
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I came to Stanford for what was then called a Teaching Fellowship position in 1980. I met Barbara Babcock shortly after arriving. I remember it so vividly. I'd never before, or likely since, had the experience of sitting across from someone who conveyed such a piercing intelligence and all encompassing warmth, together, in every moment. Barbara listened to, empathized with, and comforted absolutely everyone she taught or mentored or with whom she had even just a glancing acquaintance. Her humor, love, compassion and profound humanism shone forth. She had a lovingness about her teaching, and lawyering, and engagement with the world, that made her formidable, as well as compassionate. She was wondrous.
Robin West
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July, 2020
We who went into law after Barbara Babcock have so much to acknowledge, appreciate, and be thankful for, as Barbara opened not only doors but our imagination about the many avenues available to take in research, scholarship, teaching, and activism. I recall her marvelous stories of her work as a public defender in D.C. Once, trying to get in evidence that met none of the exceptions to the hearsay rule, she told the judge - "But I need it," and he let it in.
In the academy, Barbara reshaped all the courses she taught and joined with others to launchthe women in the law curriculum. Clara Foltz is a name that comes trippingly off our tongues because Barbara excavated her history - and the history of women as lawyers, of criminal defense, and of women as professionals. Her website thereafter makes more than apt the "nextgen" fund in her name.
Barbara also modeled how to manage illness graciously, and regularly shared her joy in her family with Tom, her stories of Yale Law School, and her work for the Carter Administration. She helped to put into place a fleet of great judges around the United States. Recently, she delighed in her 2018 honor of doing the Ruth Bader Ginsburg lecture. So much to admire, and so much to miss, and so much we have learned and will continue to learn because of Barbara.
Judith Resnik
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Professor Babcock changed the course of my life dramatically and in the best possible way. As far as I know, I was accepted into Stanford Law School the year that Professor Babcock reviewed the applications. I have always assumed she is the reason that I was accepted. My masters in Women’s Studies might have piqued her interest and my law review article on postmodern feminist jurisprudence probably sealed the deal. This has always connected me to her although I have no idea if it is true.
This is not to say law school was all rosey. My first semester I was distraught because no one was mentioning that a reasonable person was actually a reasonable man. I considered dropping out -- I thought it was all a big mistake to be in law school. I went to see Professor Babcock. She listened as my younger self tearily described the torture of being invisible in Torts. And she said, “Just get the tools, get the tools and then go fight after.” And that was what I did and she was so right.
She guided me many times over the next three years and the following twenty. I didn’t get a clerkship after I applied to many during my 2L year. I went to her tearily and wondered what I should do. She said, “Apply again your third year. You’ll have more experience to show for then. Everyone is doing it.” And I did and she was so right. My time clerking for Judge Thelton Henderson also drew me closer to her and her unique, esteemed loving family which I felt so honored to be a witness to.
As a public defender, when I was deciding whether to put my client on the stand, her words rang in my head (Yes!). When I was afraid to speak up, I did. (Objection!) When I knew there was an injustice but I didn’t know what to do, her words guided me (Just write a motion asking for what you think is right!)
She’s been co-counsel in all my cases as I imagine in thousands and thousands of others. There’s more justice in this world because of her. There was more fun in this world because of her and there was more love in this world because of her. I love her dearly and am so honored to have known her and will miss her for the rest of my life.
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Loved reading all the comments. We each of us got so much from Barbara. In the spring of 1971, she taught a small group at Yale Law School in women and the law. I wrote my third year paper for her, and she put up with my political economy-type ruminations on women’s place in the world of work even though I know she would have preferred a discussion of the developing law under the Constitution and Title VII. I took for granted that she would be my friend and kept in touch. She somehow had time to write back, and her concern for my recklessness in my life choices was understated but palpable.
After she took a leave of absence from Stanford Law School and came back to Washington to be the Assistant Attorney General for the Civil Division, in 1978, she hired me as a lawyer in the Federal Programs Branch. A couple of cases that I was assigned early on built on my recent experience litigating welfare issues and cases under Title VII. I was assigned to handle a case challenging a new set of regulations governing social security disability determinations. Under the “grid regs,” eligibility for disability benefits was determined using a series of grids or tables (sedentary, light, medium work) and plugging in age, education and previous work experience. If the grid said not disabled, the determination underlying the grid was that there were jobs in the economy for persons with these factors. This system was highly controversial because it replaced a system that had to identify a specific job listed in a handbook of jobs that the claimant could do in order to justify a finding of not disabled. The administrative record was endless. Barbara advised me to stop complaining and keep reading. Fresh from my experience as a “welfare lawyer,” I nonetheless became convinced that the government had rationalized what had been a highly arbitrary system. It was an important opportunity – I handled the lead case, coordinated the litigation in the district courts around the country, and argued all the cases in the federal courts of appeals. The Supreme Court decided the validity of the regulations in favor of the government. Barbara assigned me to the case, and kept me on track.
I was also assigned to a case which built on my litigation experience as a plaintiff’s lawyer in Title VII cases – an employment discrimination case involving a massive supply depot of the U.S. Army’s outside of Richmond, Virginia. As I dimly recall, Title VII does not apply to the federal government, but the employees of the depot were civilians. An Assistant U.S. Attorney in Richmond had mounted an aggressive defense of the practices at the Depot. The case was close to trial when I was assigned to it because Clifford Alexander, the first African-American Secretary of the Army, was uneasy about defending the Depot’s practices and asked Barbara to look into it. Barbara’s quiet position about the mission of the Civil Division was defend what should be defended, but find some other way when the government’s position was problematic. Working with the reluctant AUSA with whom I became friends, I reviewed the Depot’s employment practices, fleshed out the remedies the plaintiffs’ lawyers were seeking, and the case was settled.
I probably shouldn’t have written all this about these cases, but Barbara’s job as Assistant Attorney General for the Civil Division was so wide-ranging, involved so many people in a multiplicity of branches and such significant cases, perhaps these two of mine give some small idea of the breadth.
When Barbara and Tom were married, it added another dimension to my connection to Barbara because I had known Tom quite well while he was at Yale Law School and in his years in Washington after law school. Isn’t the photo in this tribute of Tom and Barbara kind of dressed up at the water’s edge wonderful! And the pictures of Barbara with Dinah.
Barbara died several weeks after my husband Richard. They were more or less the same age, both remarkable lawyers, both had seen the practice of law for what it is at the fanciest Washington law firms, and had left for so much more.
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Prof. Barbara A. Babcock, Stanford Law School's first female faculty member (1972)
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The year Barbara Babcock began teaching law school at Stanford (1972) only about nine percent of the law students in the country were women. Although I did not know her well (except briefly as noted below), she and others from that era (including Nadine Taub, Betsy Levin, Herma Hill Kay, and Judy Areen) began breaking the glass ceiling and paving the trail for the next group (who included me). Barbara was an adjunct faculty member at Georgetown the year I began law school (1971) and was an attorney at the Public Defender’s Office in Washington DC. During my first year at a Georgetown law student, I interned at the Public Defender’s Office, and I’m pretty sure she was the supervising attorney to whom I was assigned. It had to be her, because I recall distinctly that it was a female attorney who I worked with and there couldn’t have been very many of women in such positions at the time.
By the time I began teaching law school in 1976 (only two years out of law school and way too young and inexperienced to be teaching anyone anything), the percentage of women in law school had increased to 26 percent. I have taught at five different law schools since then, including one where I was the only tenure track woman for five years, and although my teaching and scholarship did not focus on Gender Discrimination or Feminist Issues, I was always involved in issues of gender equity within legal education, including as chair of the Women in Legal Education Section in 1994. Especially during those years when I was the only (or only one of a few) women on the faculty where I served, much valued mentorship and inspiration was gained from the AALS meetings where these early female scholars would attend and share their stories and provide wisdom and role modeling.
When I learned about Barbara’s passing, I recalled that my best friend from college’s daughter had been a student at Stanford and that she had been a research assistant for Barbara. When I told Jenna about Barbara, I learned that Jenna had worked on the Clara Folz book.
It important that we honor and remember those who broke glass and blazed and paved trails for those who followed. A 2012 issue of the UMKC Law Review (Volume 80, Issue 3) recalls many of those individuals in the 23 articles in Law Stories: Reflections of Women in Legal Education: Stories from Four Decades of [WLE] Section Chairs.
So, I want to add my gratitude to Barbara Babcock for being one of those early leaders who made it possible for women to succeed and grow in numbers within the percentage of law students, law professors, and deans.
Laura Rothstein, Professor and Distinguished University Scholar, University of Louisville Louis D. Brandeis School of Law, July 15, 2020
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From my Facebook post on April 22: I've been very fortunate and grateful to have had many wonderful mentors over the years but now I'm at that age at which many of them are leaving this earthly life (Al Cigler, Jim Logan, Miguel Mendez, Robert Garcia, & others). I've just learned from my good friends Evie Norwinski and Alex Johns of the passing of our beloved mentor Barbara Babcock of Stanford Law School. During my first overwhelming week at Stanford, Margaret Russell told a story about how encouraging Professor Babcock had been to her when she was a 1L at Stanford. Many of my students and former students have heard me say to them words of encouragement that Professor Babcock said to me when I was a Stanford law student: "Yes, yes, you can do this. I know you can. You're doing great. You really can do this." and "You really should do a judicial clerkship; it would be good for you.". When I was early in my teaching career at Chapman Law School, I invited Professor Babcock to come give one of our very first distinguished lectures (Barbara Fried gave another one on a different occasion). She gave a captivating and inspiring lecture on Clara Shortridge Foltz (first woman lawyer in CA, pioneer of public defender system). She had lots of encouraging words for students, faculty, and staff (including academic affairs administrative assistant Barbara Hedrick-Babcock). Then, she took part of the honorarium to buy an antique cameo brooch from one of the antique stores in Old Town Orange. Proudly displaying her purchase, Barbara said, "Clara would approve.". She will be deeply missed.
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Remembering Barbara
By Starr Babcock
Remembering Barbara, for me, is through the lens of the Babcock family experience.
There were three children in our family and I was her “baby brother”.
A little background.
Barbara Allen Babcock (DOB- July 6, 1937) and David Henry Babcock (DOB- October 8, 1939) were the prewar babies in our family, and I, Joseph Starr Babcock, arrived post war, May 24, 1947.
Our parents, Lenora Doris Moses (Mom) and Henry Allen Babcock (Dad) were born and raised in Arkansas; Mom in Hope and Dad in Batesville. They met while attending Arkansas college when the stock market crashed on October 17, 1929. Both were working to pay for college and their jobs disappeared. And there were no family resources.
They moved to Washington D.C. to hopefully get “government” jobs. Dad worked in the local court law library and Mom counted checks in the basement of the treasury department. They survived the depression, got married, and their first two children, Barbara and David, arrived. World War II started and Dad was too old to get drafted, but for whatever reason, he volunteered in 1943, to serve in the Navy.
Mom had two small children to support and very little money so needed to find work herself. But she had no childcare so had to ship her children off to live with relatives. So in 1943, Barbara was sent to live in Batesville, Ark, and David sent to Hope. The children stayed in Ark for two years before coming back to D.C., and to make extra money, Mom also took in a roommate during this time. I suspect many families of this generation experienced similar situations. Barbara used to tell me how hard it was to be separated from David for so long because they had been so close.
Dad came home in late 1945, and the rejoined family moved to Hyattsville, Md. in 1947. Barbara was 10 when I was born in 1947, and she easily slipped into the roles of both “mom” and sister. It was not a dereliction on Mom’s part - just adjusting to the changes and separations of the past 3 years.
Barbara became the leader and main spoke in our family wheel and took on that same role with her new friends in Hyattsville. She came to this through her desire to standout and express her opinion, and she did so without resentment from her neighborhood cohort. Barbara had a gift and ability to become the assumed leader in the neighborhood, and she exhibited that same drive in later years at the Public Defender Service (PDS) and at Stanford.
Barbara had a great capacity to gain insight and interest in all of her colleagues and friends, and she did so without overt ambition. She inspired loyalty and a high level of performance from the PDS
Attorneys and support staff. Barbara’s early success in obtaining funding for a robust defender service attracted a talented group of young attorneys, many from the leading law schools.
There was a rigorous training program. The usual “old school” practice of sending newly hired attorneys out to court to see if they could survive was not the model Barbara developed. Instead, as part of the training program, after the basic program, Barbara tried a felony case with each individual attorney sitting second chair.
I was lucky enough to see Barbara and her PDS attorneys in action, as a summer law student member of the U.S. Marshall’s service, who provided security for the judges and the court rooms. I really enjoyed the time over 3 summers. Candor requires the admission that Barbara asked Chief Judge Bazelon to put in a call in support of my application for the job that first summer. I met with Judge Bazelon to express my interest and most of the time was spent discussing Barbara’s sterling work in court. Not a problem- Barbara was not one to brag - so it was special to hear the praise from the Chief Judge.
One funny story during Barbara’s time trying cases in D.C. occurred prior her departure from the Williams and Connolly firm. Barbara was defending Joe Nesline, a person well versed in the business of handicapping sporting events. Joe was on trial with several business associates, one of whom owned a pastry shop. Barbara, her co counsel, and Nesline were talking outside the courtroom. Suddenly, in through the 4th floor doors came one of the lesser defendants with a tray of freshly made pastries for the 12 jurors and two alternates. Barbara headed off the thoughtful defendant and made sure the tray never made It to the jurors.
Everyone had a good laugh when a not guilty verdict was secured.
Another memorable day was the not guilty verdict obtained by Barbara on behalf of Geraldine, a victim of a lifetime of heroin use with two prior convictions. (The full story of Geraldine is in “Fish Raincoats” ppgs. 73 - 75) Barbara got a not guilty by reason of insanity. The insanity? An “inadequate personality “- the opinion of a psychiatrist. The part I recall is the distress of the Assistant U.S. Attorney (AUSA) at losing the case and not getting to ask for the 20 years called for in the federal statute. After the trial, Judge William Bryant, who was by all accounts fair and empathetic, told the AUSA that ...he “had been caught in Ms. Babcock’s web.”
The last story is Barbara and Dad debating, gently, Barbara’s going to Yale Law School. When Barbara advised she would be attending Yale, Dad suggested she would be just as happy at the University of Maryland Law School. Barbara would be attending Yale on scholarship - so it wasn’t money. It was Dad’s experience of attending a night law school for two years and taking the bar, successfully. And the fact that he practiced mostly in suburban Md., where many of his colleagues were UM law school grads.
It’s true Dad visited New Haven - and from Barbara’s account he was blown away by the majesty and beauty of Yale. But he was still in a Maryland frame of mind, when he took a call from Barbara at the end of her first year to advise him that she had been invited to join the Yale law journal. Barbara was thrilled about this. But Dad’s response was “Honey, you could have applied to join the MD law review.” When she graduated, clerked on the D.C. Federal Circuit Court, went to work for Edward Bennet Williams, Dad realized then, if not before, Barbara could indeed write her own ticket.
Barbara passed away April 18, 2020, after a determined battle with cancer. Barbara made some last visits to her treating doc and announced she wanted to live until she was 85. She recounted that her doc turned to her and gave her the oddest look. When recounting this visit Barbara said that she realized then, that she wasn’t going to get better.
I think about Barbara every day and miss her love, advice, and counsel. Some have said she had a stellar and interesting life and made it to 81. By my way of thinking, she left way to soon.
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