Justice Scalia: A Personal Remembrance KANNON K. SHANMUGAM Justice Scalia was the towering legal figure of his generation. He would have laid claim to being the greatest Justice of the century, but for the quirk of the calendar that his career on the Court neatly straddled two. As it stands, he was undoubtedly one of the most influential Associate Justices in the Court’s history, setting the terms ofthe debate on the modern-day Court for the two most important judicial tasks: interpreting the Constitution and interpreting statutes. For those of us who had the privilege of serving as Justice Scalia’s law clerks, however, it is hard to separate the jurispru dential loss from the personal. The relation ship between law clerk and Justice is a special one, forged in the crucible of a year together in Chambers and then matured over the ensuing years of mentorship and friendship. And the relationship between the “clerkerati” (as the Justice called his clerks) and “The Boss” (as his clerks called him) was a particularly close one. While the Justice had a large family—nine children and, at last count, thirty-six grandchildren—he always had time for his extended family of 135 law clerks. Perhaps for that reason, Justice Scalia’s death felt, and still feels, like the loss ofa particularly beloved family member. So when I reflect on Justice Scalia, I think not so much about his extraordinary jurisprudence as about his extraordinary personal qualities. Justice Scalia was devoted above all to his family and to his faith. He was also an utterly charming person who lived life to the fullest. Spending time with Justice Scalia was like being in the presence ofa oneman party. It was impossible to come away from an encounter with the Justice without feeling energized. I first met Justice Scalia in the fall of 1998. At the time, I was clerking for J. Michael Luttig, then a judge on the Court of Appeals for the Fourth Circuit and himself a former Scalia clerk. 1 was sitting at my desk in Richmond when I received a call from Justice Scalia’s secretary asking if I could be available for an interview two days later. That made for a frantic next two days, when I attempted to read every opinion the Justice had ever written—which, even back then, was quite a few. ANTONIN SCALIA 253 In the end, I got thejob. I wish I could say that it was because I benefited from all ofthat pre-interview cramming, or because Justice Scalia recognized in me a scintilla of kindred brilliance. But in fact, I am pretty sure I was the beneficiary ofa most unusual preference. I had studied the classics in college and then in graduate school. As Justice Scalia all but admitted many years later, he simply thought it would be fun to have a Latin major in Chambers. After all, the Justice was the only son ofa professor ofRomance languages, and he received a Jesuit education of which Latin was naturally a big part. So I have my choice of college major to thank for the privilege of serving as Justice Scalia’s law clerk. Shortly before I started my clerkship in 1999, Washingtonian magazine published a story that ranked Supreme Court clerkships from the most desirable to the least. The magazine ranked the Scalia clerkship as the best, describing life in the Scalia Chambers as “like an Italian street fight.”1 While I have never been in an Italian street fight, the description seems entirely apt. After oral argument, Justice Scalia would call his clerks into his office and conduct a no-holds-barred debate until he decided which way he would vote. Needless to say, those debates were an exhilarating and often intimidating experi ence, particularly for a fledgling lawyer fresh out of law school. Perhaps the best part of clerking for Justice Scalia, however, was working with him on opinions. There have been many great writers in the Court’s history, but none better than Justice Scalia. One of my favorite clerkship memories involved a dissenting opinion on a significant question of constitu tional law. My co-clerk had been tasked...