The late David Ruder, former law dean at Northwestern and much more, was always a strong supporter of clinical legal education, but he was also a consummate corporate attorney, given to exquisitely tailored, pinstripe suits. In my first years at Northwestern, I spent my time almost entirely in the five-lawyer clinic, then housed in an airless basement of a building next door to the law school. Only a few years removed from hippie life in Berkeley, I never wore a suit unless I had to, and absolutely never on weekends.
It seemed, however, that I always ran into Prof. Ruder (he was not yet dean) on Saturdays when we were both in the library, and I was wearing my most disreputable, worn-through, and colorfully patched blue jeans – the sort that were once de rigueur on Telegraph Avenue, but clearly out of place in the law school, even among students in the mid-1970s. David would look askance at my wardrobe, obviously baffled that a lawyer, much less a law professor, would show up in such an outfit, but he never said anything to me about it. His stern glance, however, was more than a little intimidating, though not enough to get me into anything close to a suit on the weekend (then as now).
Then there was a law school dinner of some sort, maybe even a banquet, held at the very fancy Drake Hotel. I dressed up for it, of course, wearing my own pinstripe suit (albeit with a flowered tie) as though I was going to court. David saw me from across the room and headed right over to my side. I looked up nervously, as the untenured may still do when they come to the sudden attention of senior faculty.
“Steve,” said David, with much enthusiasm, “this is the first time I’ve seen you in your real clothes.”
It was then that I realized his great open-mindedness and affection, as he had found a way to identify with me. “Actually, David,” I had to admit, “you’ve only ever seen me before in my real clothes.” He gave me an understanding smile that I will never forget.
A few years later, after David had become dean, I sought him out for some career counseling, as I was interested in figuring out a scholarly trajectory in addition to my clinical teaching. I wore a tie to the meeting. David seemed not to notice.
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