Mr. Speaker, I rise today to recognize former Florida Chief Justice, Leander J. Shaw Jr. Shaw was born in Salem, Virginia, on September 6, 1930. His parents were Leander J. Shaw, retired Dean of the Florida A&M University Graduate School…
Mr. Speaker, I rise today to recognize former Florida Chief Justice, Leander J. Shaw Jr. Shaw was born in Salem, Virginia, on September 6, 1930. His parents were Leander J. Shaw, retired Dean of the Florida A&M University Graduate School in Tallahassee, and Margaret Shaw, a retired teacher. He attended public schools in Virginia and received his bachelor's degree in 1952 from West Virginia State College. After serving in the Korean conflict as an artillery officer, he entered law school and earned his juris doctorate degree in 1957 from Howard University.
Shaw came to Tallahassee in 1957 and followed in the footsteps of his father as an assistant professor of law at Florida A&M University. In 1960 he was admitted to the Florida Bar and went into private practice in Jacksonville, where he also served as assistant public defender. Shaw's hiring marked the beginning of an era that revamped the Florida judicial system. Prior to his hiring no African Americans were working for Duval County. Shaw later joined the State Attorney's staff in 1969, where he served as head of the Capital Crimes Division.
In 1974 Governor Reubin Askew appointed him to the Florida Industrial Relations Commission, where he served until Governor Bob Graham appointed him to the First District Court of Appeals. He served there until January 1983 when Governor Graham appointed him to the Supreme Court. Justice Shaw served as Chief Justice from 1990 to 1992. Following a prestigious career serving the public of Florida, Shaw returned to private practice.
Shaw serves on a number of advisory boards and is a member of various professional and community associations, including the American Bar Association, the National Center for State Courts, and Florida's Human Relations Council and Police Advisory Committee. He has been granted honorary degrees from West Virginia State, Florida International University, Nova University, Washington and Lee University and has been the recipient of such prestigious awards as the Florida Humanist of the Year and the Ben Franklin Award.
Justice Shaw is the father of five children and lives on Lake Iamonia in Leon County.
I submit an article by Tom Cornelison, entitled ``Profiles in Courage.''
[From Jacksonville Magazine, Nov. 2007]
Profiles in Courage
(By Tom Cornelison)
Historians debate the merits of his presidency and it is
certain his private life did not live up to his public image,
but there is little argument that John F. Kennedy was an
inspirational leader. When his life was cut short by an
assassin in Dallas on November 22, 1963, Kennedy left behind
the memories of history that he made and a slender volume of
history that he wrote.
It was called Profiles in Courage, a collection of stories
about political rather than physical courage in which public
officials risked their careers by bucking popular opinion.
Just such an episode quietly took place in Jacksonville the
week before Kennedy died.
In those days of strict racial segregation throughout the
South, Duval County Solicitor Edward M. Booth Sr. and Public
Defender T. Edward Austin--a future Jacksonville mayor--each
appointed an African-American to their staff. On November 15,
1963, Booth announced the hiring of Alfred R. Taylor while
Austin did the same for Leander J. Shaw, who would later
serve as chief justice of the Florida Supreme Court. The
state's court system was revamped in 1967, but in 1963 the
county solicitor functioned as a prosecuting district
attorney for non-capital cases. The public defender's office
was newly created and supplied legal representation for
indigent defendants who could not afford attorneys.
On the second floor of the Duval County Courthouse, near
Courtroom No. 8, two men's rooms stand side-by-side. What
looks like poor planning today also gives silent testimony to
the era in which Taylor and Shaw were appointed. In 1963, one
of the men's rooms was labeled ``white,'' the other
``colored.'' Taylor and Shaw could only use the latter
because that was the way things were. If they couldn't go in
the same men's room as the vilest of white defendants, well,
those defendants couldn't use theirs either. It all seemed
normal.
``Separate but equal'' seems comical when applied to
bathrooms and water fountains, but it was grimly serious for
society, where services and opportunities were clearly
unequal. No black people had served in public or appointive
office in Duval County since the enforced integration of the
post-Civil War Reconstruction era almost a century before.
``Until Nat Glover was elected sheriff in 1995, we didn't
even have a black elected to countywide office after
Reconstruction,'' says Edward Booth Jr., a Jacksonville
lawyer and historian who is the son of the 1963 county
solicitor. ``And the appointments by my father and Mr. Austin
took place 32 years before. They were in an era of separate
conditions, but it was really an era of separate exclusions.
``The thing is, they didn't have to do it. It was just the
right thing to do.''
Few controversial decisions are implemented with an in-
your-face contempt for the conventional. This was not a movie
with inspirational background music. Booth Sr. and Austin
presented sound, practical arguments for their action. These
centered on the landmark 1963 U.S. Supreme Court ruling on
the Gideon vs. Wainwright case. Prior to this ruling, accused
Florida lawbreakers in non-capital cases were not entitled to
an attorney if they could not afford one. Clarence Earl
Gideon. a convicted burglar from Panama City, argued this
violated his Constitutional rights and won his case with the
help of attorney Abe Fortas, later a U.S. Supreme Court
Justice. The story was later dramatized in Gideon's Trumpet,
a made-for-TV movie starring Henry Fonda and Jose Ferrer.
``It was an exciting time in the legal profession.
Tremendous changes were taking place,'' recalls Austin, who
is 81 and served as Jacksonville's mayor from 1991-95. ``It
was also a very busy time. The Gideon decision made a public
defender's office necessary because it immediately threw 580
convicted inmates from Jacksonville back into the court
system to be retried. We had been sending people without
lawyers to prison regularly for years. Very many of these
were minorities. It was obvious minorities should be involved
In the process. It was just true. There was a great mistrust
of the legal system in the black community and we earned that
mistrust because the system abused them for decades.''
In making his 1963 announcement--timed on a Friday, perhaps
to give any resulting anger a weekend to simmer down--Booth
Sr. also cited the number of cases involving racial
minorities as a reason for the appointment, saying Taylor's
experience as a lawyer and, earlier, as a school principal,
would be ``of immeasurable value . . . in dealing with young
Negro defendants.''
The term ``Negro'' was not considered a slur at the time.
The Florida Times-Union and Jacksonville Journal both used it
in headlines about the appointments. So did the Florida Star,
an African-American newspaper that heralded the event as a
``Florida breakthrough'' and added ``Duval County set a
statewide precedent.''
The Times-Union reported that ``Booth said the services of
a qualified Negro attorney would greatly assist in the
prosecution of cases involving Negro defendants, who
represent the majority of persons coming before the court.''
Booth also favorably cited ``work done by Negro assistants
employed by'' the Sheriff's Office and Juvenile Court.
Besides the logic of black lawyers dealing with black
criminal cases, the joint announcement meant Booth and Austin
had each side covered--prosecution and defense. Austin
insists this was a coincidence.
``Eddie and I were friendly but I don't remember that we
ever discussed it at all,'' Austin says. ``Of course, you're
talking about a half-century ago, but I don't think we ever
talked. I'm just real glad he did it. Spread some of the risk
around.''
That risk turned out to be non-existent.
At Taylor's funeral in June 1988, Booth said the only
criticism he received was from an angry woman who called him
at home the next day. He said she called him back an hour
later and apologized.
Austin said his only opposition came before his decision to
hire the young lawyer.
``A group of 20 or 25 public officials met with me who
really didn't want me to make
the appointment,'' he recalls. ``They were not the least bit
enamored with my decision and tried to talk me out of it. I
said it wouldn't hurt them and it wouldn't hurt me and if it
did hurt me, then I'd just go on and do something else for a
living.''
``Maybe it's because Judge Shaw's credentials were so
impressive, but there was never any negative feedback. You
pick a winner, you'll be all right. Still, it surprised me,
considering the reaction I had gotten before the
announcement. It was not the deal-breaker in the community
that they thought. Just a sense of calm. I can remember a few
members of the Bar Association raised minor objections when
Judge Shaw would cross-examine witnesses in rape cases, but
that didn't amount to much.''
Booth's son believes Kennedy's assassination in Dallas one
week later overshadowed the appointments. There is no doubt
it ate up all the news space and air time, as anyone who can
remember that day knows.
``I'm not sure I want to go there,'' Austin says. ``I think
if there was going to be any serious criticism I'd have
gotten it the first or second day.''
Perhaps the explanation is that racial tension in
Jacksonville did not seriously heat up until later in the
1960s.
The younger Booth recalls his house was put under police
guard and a slur was spray-painted on the family car when his
father successfully prosecuted four Ku Klux Klansmen for
brutally attacking an elderly black minister. The September
1965 verdict was the second conviction the elder Booth
obtained in a white-on-black crime case with an all-white
jury. The defense attorney, incidentally, was J.B. Stoner,
the flamboyant white supremacist who later ran for governor
of Georgia.
``A lot of people have taken a lot of credit for a lot of
things in the advancement of civil rights,'' says the junior
Booth. ``There's nothing wrong with that. It's fine that they
do. But my dad and Mr. Austin took it in stride.''
``All in a day's work,'' says Austin,
Taylor and Shaw took it in stride, too. An example is a
meeting of Austin's staff in which one of the lawyers said,
``Look, we can do what we want. We're free, white and 21.''
All eyes turned to Shaw. Looking perplexed, he dead-panned,
``You want to run that by me again?''
Austin later switched to prosecution and, as state
attorney, employed both Taylor and Shaw. Taylor retired in
1977 and died 11 years later. Shaw prosecuted 42 cases and
lost only one. In 1979, Gov. Bob Graham appointed Shaw to the
state supreme court where he was elevated to chief justice in
1990. He is now 77, retired, and lives in Leon County.
Despite admitted political differences, Austin and Shaw
remain close friends. It was Shaw who swore in Austin as
Jacksonville's mayor in 1991.
Booth Sr. died in 2006, like Taylor, at age 78.
All but lost to history is a quiet act of political courage
that occured in Northeast Florida some 45 years ago, but it
lives on as the memory of a job well done by a man in his
eighties and in the pride of a son for his father.