The launch of The Smiler ... Crusty members of the legal tribe gather to celebrate Murray Gleeson and his biography ... Choice snippets ... Eat your Brussels sprouts ... Pertinent observations
Murray & Robyn Gleeson at the launch of The Smiler
There's one way to drain a lot of fun out of a book launch, and that's to hold it in a courtroom.
The wizened and the vaguely sprightly dutifully assembled on level 21 of the Federal Court in Queens Square's Lubyanka on Tuesday (May 27) for the launch of journalist Cardinal Michael Pelly's biography of former chief justice Murray Gleeson.
As daughter Justice Jackie Gleeson put it, The Smiler "peers into the vortex that Murray would call his soul".
The event was set as though judgments were being delivered from the front, with serried rows of counsel and interested parties in obedient attendance.
All the living former NSW CJs were there and some of the dead ones as well. John Howard, the man who appointed Gleeson to the High Court, darted about.
He is looking more like an aged troll now that the lasers have scrubbed the myopia from his shrewd little eyes. It's as though his fresh vision of the world has left him permanently startled.
Sir Lorenzo Street was briskly navigated in a wheelchair by son Sandy. Gerry Brennan was on a stick. Former attorney general Greg Smith looked like he was out-of-work and the appearance of John Hatzistergos reminded us of how much time it took for an AG to do very little of significance.
A great cluster of benchers and briefs brings out the tribalism of the law with everyone doing their best to control their dislike of everyone else.
Out in the corridor afterwards Zimmer frames jangled and tangled as the older generation of the legal establishment tried to navigate drinks and sandwiches into their cake holes.
What is needed to get through these events is "drowsy syrups", as the Dycey would say, upfront and during the speeches.
Waiting for the speeches
It must be said, though, that the launch speech by J.J. Spigelman was done with the former CJ's customary polish.
He talked about the power of Gleeson's "stare". For instance, as NSW CJ, Gleeson sat as a judge on murder trials.
After one such trial in Taree he was asked by an experienced criminal trial judge how he dealt with objections to evidence. Gleeson replied:
"I never made any ruling on evidence. I stared at either the person asking the question or the person making the objection and, on every occasion, either the question of the objection was withdrawn."
The trial ended in a hung jury and as Spiggsy observed: "This is the only result from which there can be no appeal of any kind."
One of the significant aspects of The Smiler's life upon which Spigelman dwelt was his Catholicism - the first Catholic to be appointed CJ of NSW.
"When Murray Gleeson graduated most of the significant law firms in Sydney had either never had a Catholic partner or had never had a Protestant partner. It was no accident that he found articles at Murphy and Maloney. I presume Freehill Hollingdale and Page had a preference for Riverview boys at the time.
Nothing better reflects this social division than the fact that the Police Commissioner of New South Wales had long been alternatively a Catholic and a Mason, a practice that continued until the late 70s. Unlike the office of the Governor, Premier or Chief Justice, that of Police Commissioner was much too important to allow either group to monopolise.
[snip]
When Murray Gleeson came to the Sydney bar, his religion was a fundamental aspect of his career prospects. By the time he became Chief Justice of New South Wales, it was just irrelevant."
The book takes us on a linear journey from Murray's beginning in Wingham, through university, articles, early days at the bar, family life, his courtroom triumphs as a barrister and later a judge, the selection process and how the High Court works.
As Spigelman said: "He never put a foot wrong."
There are a couple of oddities in Pelly's book. The footnote on page 111 says in relation to the Tasmanian Dams case:
"Chief Justice Gibbs and Justices Wilson and Dawson were widely regarded as centralists. Justices Mason, Murphy and Brennan were expected to fall on the State's side."
Lionel might be turning in his grave at that one.
Then on pages 190 and 191 there's straight little pen portraits of all the judges who sat on the High Court with Gleeson. There there's this snarky paragraph about Kirby:
"Michael Kirby took position five, between McHugh and Ian Callinan. Kirby was proud of the fact he was educated at a government school, Fort Street High, before going to Sydney University on a Commonwealth Scholarship. He had become Australia's first 'celebrity' judge, because of his frequent contributions to public debate, and was feted by the media and law schools for his progressive views. He had shared his life with a male partner, Johan van Vloten, since 1969, but kept this fact hidden from public view out of fear it would harm his career."
However, as is invariably the case, the most telling observations come from the great man's children. Daughter Gabrielle said:
"He likes to get me annoyed or likes to get Mum annoyed. We'd be at the dinner table with my kids, and Mum would come out having cooked a really lovely meal. Maybe there'd be Brussels sprouts on a plate. We all hated Brussels sprouts, and Mum would say, 'Eat the bloody Brussels sprouts, you lot,' and Dad would sit at the end of the table saying, 'Yes, eat your Brussels sprouts'. And then, the moment Mum would walk out of the room, Dad would whisper, 'Home of the white grub,' as in, you know, at the bottom of a Brussels sprout there's a squiggly bit in the middle? As if there's a grub inside of it and you all have to eat it. If she found out, she'd just say, 'Shut up Murray, stop being so unhelpful'."
No one in Phillip Street or on the bench told Gleeson to shut up because he was being unhelpful.
There have been countless books on Michael Kirby and a few on Lionel Murphy and Barwick, but precious little on other High Court judges of living memory. So it's good to get Pelly's contribution to judicial history.
The cover of The Smiler is suitably adorned with a photo of Gleeson sporting a trademark grimace.
Behind me at the launch sat an Oriental gentleman who asked his friend, "Why do they call him the Smiler? Is he smiling all the time?"
Jackie Gleeson commented that all this was very well, but she had to cope with Gleeson's despair at "never becoming Pope".
See: launch speech by J.J. Spigelman
Murray Gleeson The Smiler, by Michael Pelly, The Federation Press, $55