The death of Justice Ginsburg this past week saddened me, and brought back memories of the one time I spoke to her on the phone – and how it made my mouth go dry with dread.
While serving in Washington between my assignments in Morocco and northern Mexico I helped to make arrangements for an exchange of Supreme Court justices from the United States and India. This would give them an opportunity to get to know each other personally and professionally, to study the strong similarities between our two judicial systems, and to strengthen ties between the world’s two largest democracies.
As was our policy for such high-ranking participants, we bought business class tickets for all of them. Spouses were invited too, though they would have to pay their own way.
A few days before the program was to begin I received a call from Justice Ginsburg’s office. The woman at the other end of the line said that Justice Ginsburg’s husband had some health problems and that flying first class would make the (very) long journey from Washington to Delhi much easier on him. The Ginsburgs would, of course, pay for his ticket, the woman said, but asked if it wouldn’t be possible for us to upgrade the Justice too so that she could be with him. I explained to her that, as much as we would like to help, we weren’t allowed to do that. Impatient and clearly seeing me as a recalcitrant bureaucrat, she pressed harder. I hated to turn down someone as respected and prominent as Justice Ginsburg, but I had to say no.
I knew this would be disappointing, but I wasn’t ready for what she said next.
“Will you hold for Justice Ginsburg?”
That’s when my mouth went dry.
Aagh! Now I’ve cheesed off one of the Justices of the Supreme Court of the United States. Just great. She’s going to send a missile over the lines straight into my ear, then berate me to my agency head, then to President . . . At that moment I couldn’t remember who the president was. She’d probably find a way to get me indicted for something.
My professional life passed in front of my eyes. I was much younger then and it didn’t take long.
As the call transferred, I heard the click on the line with the same trepidation as a French aristocrat heard the click of the revolution’s guillotine as it began its fall.
Actually, she was quite sweet.
For a moment, when she thought maybe I was simply being bullheaded, she was a bit firm. But when I explained to her that this wasn’t a question of my wanting to be difficult, that I was only doing what the law required, her attitude changed entirely. She was very nice about the whole thing, even thanked me for my help in arranging the exchange before ringing off.
Saved. I exhaled with relief. It had all turned out well somehow. But, man, there for a moment I was pretty stressed out.
