Such a declaration that two very similar cases were different was a typical Rehnquist maneuver. Afterward, when some of Rehnquist's more inexplicable decisions came down, Stewart's clerks would snipe: "Flower looks the other way."
Rehnquist was in turn contemptuous of Brennan's opinions. "Brennan's done another pretzel job," he once remarked after reading what he considered to be a standard Brennan opinion, bending the facts or law to suit his purposes. Brennan was not, in his view, a significant force on the Court, and Marshall was even less so. In a prison case
(Kerr v. United States District Court for the Northern District of California),
Burger asked Rehnquist and Marshall to work out a mutual position. Technically, Marshall had the assignment, but Rehnquist spoke with Burger's authority in negotiating a draft. When Marshall resisted Rehnquist's suggestions, Rehnquist bluntly spelled out the realities of the situation to one of Marshall's clerks. "Tell Thurgood that this is my opinion and not his, but just coming out under his name," he said.
Rehnquist realized the importance of his relationship with Burger. Though they agreed on basic principles, Rehnquist took extra steps to ensure that he stayed on the Chief's good side. He joined all but one of Burger's majority opinions during the term, even though he disagreed with several.
Rehnquist was aware of Burger's faults, his technical carelessness and his frequent mistakes. In the important cases, Rehnquist tried to straighten him out. It was a delicate undertaking. Phoning Burger, or approaching him personally, he made it a point to couch his correction as a new footnote, or a specific addition or deletion—something that would improve Burger's work. "Hey, Chief, don't you think this makes more sense if . . . ?" Rehnquist would ask, implying that the original was cogent even when it was not That was as confrontational as Rehnquist wanted to get.
Once, one of Rehnquist's clerks brought him a particularly unworkmanlike Burger opinion. "Look what he's done," the clerk remarked sarcastically. Rehnquist read it, shook his head, frowned, sighed and fretted. Careful to pick his shots, he was reluctant to call Burger on another opinion.
Rehnquist was remarkably unstuffy. He thought it funny that there was a Rehnquist Club at Harvard Law School in which the leader was called the "Grand Rehnquisitor," and a weekly discussion called the "Rehnquisition." As the junior Justice during the first half of the term, he was in charge of the Court's annual Christmas Party. He approved a skit his clerks had prepared for the party; it was entitled,
The Making of a Justice 1976.
It was supposed to deal with President Ford's dilemma in choosing a successor to Douglas. A clerk wearing a football helmet played Ford listening to the lobbying of various political interest groups. A chorus of five clerks sang the parts of the interest groups.
P
oliticians
. Pack the Court with hacks and cronies
C
onservatives
. Weed out all the liberal phonies
L
iberals
. Save
Miranda, save Miranda, save Mi
randa from the Nixon Four!
Burger did not share the others' laughter.
The next day, December
16,
Burger sent Rehnquist a
note: "The performance of The Supreme Court Choral Group' at our Christmas Party was excellent and on behalf of the justices, I thank you. Happy New Year."
The skit was not mentioned. But in January, when the next assignment sheet came around, Rehnquist got only one case from Burger—an insignificant Indian tax dispute in Montana
(Moe
v.
Tribes of the Flathead Reservation).
Rehnquist had nothing but contempt for Indian cases. Traditionally, Douglas had done more than his share. He had been the Court's expert. With his own Arizona background, Rehnquist was the logical replacement, but, he suspected that the assignment was Burger's way of telling him what he really thought of the Christmas party. Never one to let an opportunity pass, Rehnquist turned an opinion that was in favor of the Indians into an opinion that indicated that in most cases they would lose. It wiped away decades of Douglas's opinions.
Stewart appreciated Rehnquist's sense of humor. At one particularly dull moment at conference, after Burger and Blackmun had performed predictably, Stewart passed a note to Rehnquist on which he had drawn two tombstones. On Burger's tombstone, Stewart had inscribed: "I'll Pass for The Moment." On Blackmun's, he had written: "I Hope The Opinion Can Be Narrowly Written." Rehnquist laughed out loud.
Ignoring tradition, Rehnquist attended one conference in a Court softball team T-shirt. He also did little to dispel the impression that he was drinking straight Scotch or bourbon at his desk, even though the amber liquid in the glass was really his favorite beverage, apple juice.
Rehnquist's affability did not stop with his colleagues. He paid attention to all the Court personnel, addressing even the humblest by name. When the police at the Court had their chairs taken away from their duty stations as punishment for letting a tourist wander into a restricted area, a delegation came to Rehnquist for help. The chairs were soon returned to the posts.
He had an equally easy relationship with his clerks. By the end of the term, Rehnquist's clerks felt comfortable speaking openly about Burger's faults. Rehnquist listened and occasionally defended the Chief. He called the bad mouthing a "sport for law clerks," but it was clear that the
subject was not off limits. He once asked a group of clerks what surprised them the most about the Court.
"The Chief's asinine memos," one clerk answered,
Rehnquist laughed heartily.
The Right to Life movement had developed tremendous momentum since Blackmun's
1973
abortion decision. Anti-abortion demonstrators gathered periodically at the Court, and some sent Blackmun roses on the anniversary of the decision. Blackmun, puzzled, nervous and grim, stood by his office window and watched the demonstrations. He felt that so much of the opposition reflected a misunderstanding of the Court's opinion and purpose.
Blackmun publicly defended the abortion decision, telling one audience that people "forget that the Court functions only on constitutional principles. All we were deciding was a constitutional issue, not a philosophical one . . .
"A lot of p
e
ople have personalized this, thinking it's the work of the devil, to wit, me—forgetting there were seven votes for that opinion."
Yet, Blackmun knew there was consi
derable unhappi
ness with the abortion decision within the Court. The original dissenters, Rehnquist and White, kept up a steady drumbeat. In one memo for the cert pool prepared by one of White's clerks, the doctor in an abortion case was called a "fetus killer." Blackmun was furious. Rehnquist told college audiences that the Court might some day overturn the decision.
Since the
1973
decision, Burger had gone back to his original anti-abortion position, and Powell seemed shaky. While Douglas was on the Court, Blackmun was virtually certain in new abortion cases to have five solid votes to follow the
1973
decision. Douglas's resignation left the abortion issue in doubt. Blackmun did not believe that the decision would be overruled. But the
1973
decision had left some major questions open. Many states had enacted new laws that had the practical effect of restricting abortions.
A
1974
Missouri law put a number of limitations on abortions including requirements that:
· an unmarried woman under the age of eighteen obtain her parents' consent before an abortion.