Tribute to Leo Levin.

• Author: Green, Michael D.
• Position: Law professor

I wrote this tribute in 1989, but am happy to see it republished on the occasion of Leo Levin's half-century of service to the University of Pennsylvania Law School and the legal profession.(1)

It was my good fortune during my first year as Chief Justice to have the benefit of Leo Levin's counsel. As Director of the Federal Judicial Center ("FJC"), Leo was always available to advise me on crucial issues having to do with the administration of justice in our federal courts. I am therefore especially pleased to join the distinguished authors who have contributed essays to these pages in honor of Leo Levin.

Professor Levin's distinguished career as a scholar and teacher of law has been punctuated by important public service to our legal system. He has served as Director of the Appellate Court Revision System and head of the National Institute of Trial Advocacy. He was a key organizer of the 1976 conference on popular dissatisfaction with the administration of justice known as the Pound Conference. Through his work on the conference, he helped to set the terms of the dialogue for the reform of our system of justice for the final quarter of this century. The following were among the crucial ideas that emerged from the conference: the need to police and deter litigation abuses, to develop alternative dispute resolution, and to begin focussing on victims' rights. The proceedings published under Professor Levin's co-editorship stand today not merely as an important historical record but as a useful starting point for reflection on ways we can continue improving our legal system.

Professor Levin assumed the Directorship of the FJC in 1977, ten years after its creation by Congress. He was the first Director who had not been a judge or justice. The FJC's mandate is to improve the quality of justice in the United States by conducting research and contributing to the continuing education of judges and others in the federal legal system. As Chief Justice, I have had the honor of serving as Chairman of its Board. Like others who have been connected with the FJC, I am aware of just how effectively the FJC pursued its goals under Leo Levin's eminent leadership. His profound commitment to educational excellence was as evident in his work at the FJC as it was--and is--at the University of Pennsylvania. Among his lasting contributions was the full integration of academics into the educational and research activities of the FJC.

Justice Holmes once said--in a remark that Professor Levin himself has had occasion to quote--that "the business of a law school is not sufficiently described when you merely say that it is to teach law, or to make lawyers. It is to teach law in the grand manner, and to make great lawyers."(2) Leo Levin saw the FJC as a place that pursued its educational and research programs "in the grand manner." His commitment was to a judiciary composed of "great judges." Armed with this vision and commitment, he made the FJC prosper during a period in which budgetary cutbacks were combined with the expansion of the judicial system.

(1) See William H. Rehnquist, Tribute to Leo Levin, 138 U. PA. L. REV. 317 (1989).

(2) Oliver Wendell Holmes, The Use of Law Schools, in COLLECTED LEGAL PAPERS 35, 37 (1920) (oration before the Harvard Law School Association (Nov. 5, 1886)).

WILLIAM H. REHNQUIST, Chief Justice of the United States.

1. LEO LEVIN: LAW PROFFESSOR

   Before Leo Levin was my neighbor, mentor, colleague, and friend, he was my law professor. During my three years at the University of Pennsylvania Law School, I was privileged to take classes taught by approximately twenty-five law professors. I can tell you, in confidence, if I were so inclined,(1) how I rated most of them on a scale of one to ten. But I could not tell you after one year, and I certainly cannot tell you now, almost forty-five years since my graduation, what I learned in any of those classes--with one notable exception. And that exception is something I learned one morning in Professor Levin's class and have been learning ever since.

   Law professors pride ourselves (I use the first person because I too was once, long ago, among that privileged group) on understanding that our primary goal is to teach the method of legal reasoning, not rules of law that are subject to alteration at the direction of legislatures or judges. Legislatures come and go, and judges are not immortal. Thus, the rules of law that are the meat and potatoes of Bar examinations are here one day and gone tomorrow--or, to be candid, gone as soon as one turns in that final Bar examination paper. But legal reasoning--the analytic probing that is the raison d'etre of the Socratic technique prevalent in law school teaching in my day--becomes part of the lawyer's breathing in and breathing out, as the spouse or significant other of a lawyer trained during that period can attest.

   I barely remember the subjects that even the professors I would rate as "10"s taught, but I will never forget a lesson taught by Professor Levin. The course was second-year Evidence. Half of the class already was acquainted with Professor Levin, as he had been one of the two professors assigned to teach first-year Civil Procedure. I had heard of him and could recognize him in the halls of the Law School, but we had not exchanged more than a nod or a smile, as I had been in the class of the other Civil Procedure professor (also a "10").

   I did know something of Professor Levin's reputation--universally considered to be a wise, decent, and considerate human being. I looked forward with eagerness to being in his Evidence class. I thought nothing strange of the note on the bulletin board notifying the students that Professor Levin's Evidence class would meet on the first day in the one auditorium-type classroom then in the Law School.(2) We assembled with a clear view of each other and the podium. Professor Levin strolled in, book in hand, in the accustomed mode of law professors. I can still see the scene, although some details are gone from memory. For example, I can't remember if he took the roll, but I do remember that we were not required to sit in alphabetical order as we had been during the first year.(3) Professor Levin then began to talk to us in a very serious vein about evidence, with none of the jokes or lighthearted banter my classmates had told me to expect. Instead, we were subjected to the beginning of a lecture on the different types of evidence, what we would have to think about, what we would be expected to know ...

   Suddenly, from a door on the side of the room emerged a small man with dark hair who rushed up to Professor Levin and, in an anguished plea spoken in a foreign accent, asked him and his class to vacate the room, because "Professor Levin, I am supposed to be in this room." "Get out of here," replied the Professor sternly and pointed the intruder towards the door. He then turned and said to the surprised class, "I know him, he's crazy," and he proceeded to continue with the lecture as if nothing had happened.

   In a minute or two, or perhaps ten or fifteen, in strode the young Assistant Dean...