Judge J revisited

Last week in the judicial collision series we looked at a case involving Judge J. Stories about barristers involvement with this judge are legendary. They are almost always told with huge amounts of affection.

I recently bumped into the chief prosecutor in an island jurisdiction. This is someone who is also an English barrister with many years experience in practice here. Although given the imminence of my court appearance there was no real time to talk to him at any length, later that day having met him reminded me of a story which was told about Judge J. This story either involved this barrister or was a story he told about another barrister, I cannot recall which.

Judge J was a very down-to-earth sort. No airs and graces, plenty of plain speaking. He was not so much a character with a capital C, as a character with a capital CHARACTER. Nor did he have a different persona when he was away from the court room. You would not necessarily appreciate that the man you were speaking to was a circuit judge unless he took the trouble to tell you. There is often judicial reference in cases as regards an ordinary person as the man on the Clapham omnibus. Judge J would have attracted no attention on that mythical public transport.

Not far from the Manchester criminal courts there are street traders selling fruit. Sometimes that is a more pleasant alternative than rushing out for a sandwich at lunchtime or using the cafeteria. Judge J, who usually sat in Manchester, used to go frequently to the fruit barrows to get something to eat. As a chatty and friendly person, he obviously got to know pretty well the men selling from the barrows.

One day a barrister was going to buy his lunch from one of these barrows and saw Judge J deep in conversation with the fruit seller. It was clearly a very friendly chat. Judge J turned and left without having seen the barrister, who was approaching from the other direction to that in which the judge travelled. The barrister was the next customer at the fruit barrow after the judge.

"I saw you chatting with your previous customer" said the barrister, saying nothing about who it was. "Friendly chap is he?".

"I'll say." Said the fruit seller. "You know of all the people I get coming to buy fruit from this barrow, I would say he is far away the friendliest. He's a lovely old man.". The fruit seller paused for a moment. "Of course, he is as mad as a hatter. The poor old fellow genuinely believes he's a judge.".

The barrister realised it was just as well that he had not arrived at the same time as the judge or he would have been suspected as being responsible for cruelly mocking an old man's private fantasy. It says something however that the judge could have been so unassuming that the fruit seller could only think that his customer's belief that he was a judge could only have been a delusion.

Most judges are not totally full of themselves about their position, although there are some spectacular examples to the contrary (giving rise to mockery amongst barristers, such as for example the person of whom it was said that rather than being addressed as "my Lord" he would probably have regarded it as more appropriate to be addressed as "my Lord God Almighty"). It is certainly refreshing to have a judge however who is so modest that it seems incredible to believe that he can be one.

Judge J is certainly someone around whom astonishing stories cluster. Next week we shall look at some more.