Earl Warren Quotes

The censor's sword pierces deeply into the heart of free expression.

The fantastic advances in the field of electronic communication constitute a greater danger to the privacy of the individual.

Many people consider the things government does for them to be social progress but they regard the things government does for others as socialism." [Address to National Press Club in Washington DC, as quoted in Freedom and Union (April 1952)]

Everything I did in my life that was worthwhile, I caught hell for.

To get what you want, stop doing what isn't working. - Earl Warren

Charles and David were the sons of Freddy Koch, who had tried to have Chief Justice Earl Warren impeached after the unanimous Brown decision, which declared “separate but equal” schools unlawful in America. Right

I always turn to the sports page first, which records people's accomplishments. The front page has nothing but man's failures. - Earl Warren

I made two mistakes and both of them are sitting on the Supreme Court. [Referring to Earl Warren and William Brennan]

The Flyboy who got away became president of the United States. What might have been for Warren Earl, Dick, Marve, Glenn, Floyd, Jimmy, the unidentified airman, and all the Others who had lost their lives?...And what might have been for those millions of doomed Japanese boys, abused and abandoned by their leaders? War is the tragedy of what might have been.

Legislators represent people, not trees or acres. Legislators are elected by voters, not farms or cities or economic interests. As long as ours is a representative form of government, and our legislatures are those instruments of government elected directly by and directly representative of the people, the right to elect legislators in a free and unimpaired fashion is a bedrock of our political system.

It was as easy as breathing to go and have tea near the place where Jane Austen had so wittily scribbled and so painfully died. One of the things that causes some critics to marvel at Miss Austen is the laconic way in which, as a daughter of the epoch that saw the Napoleonic Wars, she contrives like a Greek dramatist to keep it off the stage while she concentrates on the human factor. I think this comes close to affectation on the part of some of her admirers. Captain Frederick Wentworth in Persuasion, for example, is partly of interest to the female sex because of the 'prize' loot he has extracted from his encounters with Bonaparte's navy. Still, as one born after Hiroshima I can testify that a small Hampshire township, however large the number of names of the fallen on its village-green war memorial, is more than a world away from any unpleasantness on the European mainland or the high or narrow seas that lie between. (I used to love the detail that Hampshire's 'New Forest' is so called because it was only planted for the hunt in the late eleventh century.) I remember watching with my father and brother through the fence of Stanstead House, the Sussex mansion of the Earl of Bessborough, one evening in the early 1960s, and seeing an immense golden meadow carpeted entirely by grazing rabbits. I'll never keep that quiet, or be that still, again. This was around the time of countrywide protest against the introduction of a horrible laboratory-confected disease, named 'myxomatosis,' into the warrens of old England to keep down the number of nibbling rodents. Richard Adams's lapine masterpiece Watership Down is the remarkable work that it is, not merely because it evokes the world of hedgerows and chalk-downs and streams and spinneys better than anything since The Wind in the Willows, but because it is only really possible to imagine gassing and massacre and organized cruelty on this ancient and green and gently rounded landscape if it is organized and carried out against herbivores.

As Wilson outlined the concept, the Court would sit as a permanent constitutional convention, continually making and remaking the law, to adapt, in a kind of Darwinian evolution, to changing circumstances. It would make up law, in Chief Justice Earl Warren’s words, according to “the evolving standards of decency that mark the progress of a maturing society.”4

Obama’s judges share his contempt for the original meaning of the Constitution. He has long seen the U.S. Constitution as an obstacle to what he considers progress. In a 2001 interview that surfaced during the 2008 presidential campaign, he made this very clear: the Supreme Court under Justice Earl Warren had failed to break “free from the essential constraints that were placed by the Founding Fathers in the Constitution,” Obama told the host of a radio show.

Crime began rising precipitously in the 1960s after the Supreme Court, under Chief Justice Earl Warren, started tilting the scales in favor of the criminals. Some 63 percent of respondents to a Gallup poll taken in 1968 judged the Warren Court, in place from 1953 to 1969, too lenient on crime; but Warren’s jurisprudence was supported wholeheartedly by the Michelle Alexanders of that era, as well as by liberal politicians who wanted to shift blame for criminal behavior away from the criminals.

When an individual is taken into custody or otherwise deprived of his freedom by the authorities and is subjected to questioning . . . he must be warned prior to any questioning that he has the right to remain silent, that anything he says can be used against him in a court of law, that he has the right to the presence of an attorney, and that if he cannot afford an attorney one will be appointed for him prior to any questioning if he so desires.

When we blame those who brought about the brutal murder of Emmett Till, we have to count President Eisenhower, who did not consider the national honor at stake when white Southerners prevented African Americans from voting; who would not enforce the edicts of the highest court in the land, telling Chief Justice Earl Warren, 'All [opponents of desegregation] are concerned about is to see that their sweet little girls are not required to sit in schools alongside some big, overgrown Negroes.' We must count Attorney General Herbert Brownell Jr., who demurred that the federal government had no jurisdiction in the political assassinations of George Lee and Lamar Smith that summer, thus not only preventing African Americans from voting but also enabling Milam and Bryant to feel confident that they could murder a fourteen-year-old boy with impunity. Brownell, a creature of politics, likewise refused to intervene in the Till case. We must count the politicians who ran for office in Mississippi thumping the podium for segregation and whipping crowds into a frenzy about the terrifying prospects of school desegregation and black voting. This goes double for the Citizens' Councils, which deliberately created an environment in which they knew white terrorism was inevitable. We must count the jurors and the editors who provided cover for Milam, Bryant, and the rest. Above all, we have to count the millions of citizens of all colors and in all regions who knew about the rampant racial injustice in America and did nothing to end it. The black novelist Chester Himes wrote a letter to the New York Post the day he heard the news of Milam's and Bryant's acquittals: 'The real horror comes when your dead brain must face the fact that we as a nation don't want it to stop. If we wanted to, we would.

I am against the planned political assassinations by our intelligence and defense agents.The CIA-FBI-DIA and DISC (Defense Industry Security Command) were set up originally to protect citizens of the USA. They became their own judges and juries, private servants of corporations with investments at home and abroad. I am against the constant destruction of evidence in criminal matters and political assassinations. Prime witnesses are murdered before or after testifying. Diaries are forged and planted in obvious places. Doubles are created to confuse. The Police Departments manipulate facts in cooperation with conspirators. I am outraged that our judicial system since 1947 has been patterned after Nazi Germany. Patsies are dead or locked away. The assassins walk the streets or leave the country - "home free". I am against using the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, Earl Warren, to cover up the assassination of President Kennedy. When the highest court is corrupt, there is no hope at local levels.

a 1960 self-published broadside, A Business Man Looks at Communism, Koch claimed that “the Communists have infiltrated both the Democrat [sic] and Republican Parties.” Protestant churches, public schools, universities, labor unions, the armed services, the State Department, the World Bank, the United Nations, and modern art, in his view, were all Communist tools. He wrote admiringly of Benito Mussolini’s suppression of Communists in Italy and disparagingly of the American civil rights movement. The Birchers agitated to impeach Chief Justice Earl Warren after the Supreme Court voted to desegregate the public schools in the case Brown v. Board of Education, which had originated in Topeka, in the Kochs’ home state of Kansas. “The colored man looms large in the Communist plan to take over America,” Fred Koch claimed in his pamphlet. Welfare in his view was a secret plot to attract rural blacks to cities, where he predicted that they would foment “a vicious race war.” In a 1963 speech, Koch claimed that Communists would “infiltrate the highest offices of government in the U.S. until the President is a Communist, unknown to the rest of us.

So Japan is allied with Germany and they’re like “Sweet the rest of the world already hates us let’s take their land!” So they start invading China and Malaysia and the Philippines and just whatever else but then they’re like “Hmm what if America tries to stop us? Ooh! Let’s surprise attack Hawaii!” So that’s exactly what they do. The attack is very successful but only in a strictly technical sense. To put it in perspective, let’s try a metaphor. Let’s say you’re having a barbecue but you don’t want to get stung by any bees so you find your local beehive and just go crazy on it with a baseball bat. Make sense? THEN YOU MUST BE JAPAN IN THE ’40s. WHO ELSE WOULD EVER DO THIS? So the U.S. swarms on Japan, obviously but that’s where our bee metaphor breaks down because while bees can sting you they cannot put you in concentration camps (or at least, I haven’t met any bees that can do that). Yeah, after that surprise attack on Pearl Harbor everybody on the West Coast is like “OMG WE’RE AT WAR WITH JAPAN AND THERE ARE JAPANESE DUDES LIVING ALLLL AROUND US.” I mean, they already banned Japanese immigration like a decade before but there are still Japanese dudes all over the coast and what’s more those Japanese dudes are living right next door to all the important aircraft factories and landing strips and shipyards and farmland and forests and bridges almost as if those types of things are EVERYWHERE and thus impossible not to live next door to. Whatever, it’s pretty suspicious. Now, at this point, nothing has been sabotaged and some people think that means they’re safe. But not military geniuses like Earl Warren who points out that the only reason there’s been no sabotage is that the Japanese are waiting for their moment and the fact that there has been no sabotage yet is ALL THE PROOF WE NEED to determine that sabotage is being planned. Frank Roosevelt hears this and he’s like “That’s some pretty shaky logic but I really don’t like Japanese people. Okay, go ahead.” So he passes an executive order that just says “Any enemy ex-patriots can be kicked out of any war zone I designate. P.S.: California, Oregon, and Washington are war zones have fun with that.” So they kick all the Japanese off the coast forcing them to sell everything they own but people are still not satisfied. They’re like “Those guys look funny! We can’t have funny-looking dudes roaming around this is wartime! We gotta lock ’em up.” And FDR is like “Okay, sure.” So they herd all the Japanese into big camps where they are concentrated in large numbers like a hundred and ten thousand people total and then the military is like “Okay, guys we will let you go if you fill out this loyalty questionnaire that says you love the United States and are totally down to be in our army” and some dudes are like “Sweet, free release!” but some dudes are like “Seriously? You just put me in jail for being Asian. This country is just one giant asshole and it’s squatting directly over my head.” And the military is like “Ooh, sorry to hear that buddy looks like you’re gonna stay here for the whole war. Meanwhile your friends get to go fight and die FOR FREEDOM.

When Bill was a fluffy white blob, the lassie rose and started to dry her thick hair, darkened to milky coffee with rain. Lyle struggled not to notice how the brisk movement of her arms jiggled her generous bosom against her thin blouse. He had a liking for small, curvy women. Or at least he did now. After draping his wet, crumpled towel over another chair, Lyle straightened and stared at his adorably disheveled companion. “Shouldn’t we introduce ourselves?” She lowered the towel from her hair and regarded him with unreadable eyes. To his complete amazement, she dropped into a curtsy. “My name is Flora, sir. I’m a housemaid here.” With difficulty, he stifled a scoffing laugh. His intelligence mustn’t have impressed her. That lie wouldn’t convince the county’s greatest blockhead. Not least because she spoke with a clipped upper-class accent and her hands, while undoubtedly competent, were as smooth and unblemished as any lady’s. “Flora…” he said in a thoughtful voice, studying the wee besom and trying to make sense of this latest twist in their interactions. “Yes, sir,” she said, dropping her gaze with unconvincing humility. What the devil was she playing at, Sir John Warren’s beautiful only child? She’d kept him guessing from the first, which promised interesting times to come. Last week in his London club, her father had offered this girl to Lyle as his bride. Intrigued and faintly annoyed that she judged him daft enough to swallow this twaddle, Lyle decided to allow her enough rope to hang herself. Plastering an ingenuous smile on his face, he stepped closer. “I’m delighted to meet you, Miss Flora. My name is Smith. Ebenezer Smith.

To get what you want, stop doing what isn’t working.” Earl Warren, Thirtieth Governor of the State of California, Fourteenth Chief Justice of the Supreme Court.

One of the first subjects for commission members to share in January, one month before witnesses were selected, was the matter of Lee Harvey Oswald’s status as a government agent. Gerald Ford was the only member of the group to write a book on the assassination. It opened with the hushed and secret meeting in which allegations were received that Oswald worked for the FBI. What Ford left out of his book and commissioners ignored in their report was that Oswald had been working for the CIA. Chairman Earl Warren and Commission Attorney Leon Jaworski knew about this. They stated that “Mr. Belli, attorney for Jack L. Ruby, was familiar with these allegations.” Oswald’s informant number was 110669. How was that for a starter?

President Lyndon Johnson was forced to select a commission to investigate the assassination of President Kennedy and the murder of Lee Harvey Oswald by Jack Ruby. Texas authorities were called upon to conduct the original investigation. There were too many suspicious people around the world who believed a conspiracy existed. Those rumors had to be squelched. J. Edgar Hoover’s FBI never budged from its position that Lee Harvey acted alone. Any evidence that didn’t conform to this conclusion was ignored. Twenty-six volumes of witness testimony and exhibits were published, and only 8,000 copies were sold. No more reprints. The contradiction between the conclusions of the Warren Report, and the abundance of discrepancies in the other volumes, makes fascinating reading. Chief Justice Earl Warren, John J. McCloy and Allen Dulles were LBJ’s logical choices. President Kennedy didn’t trust CIA Director Dulles. Now JFK was dead and Dulles would be in charge of all possible “conspiracy” investigations. Richard Nixon, temporarily retired from politics for the first time since 1946, selected Rep. Gerald Ford to sit on this commission. Nixon selected Ford a second time when he ran home to escape impeachment during the Watergate hearings.

He was also a more astute politician than even his admirers realized. During his rise to power, he constructed his own base as an independent candidate not beholden to the oil interests in Southern California. For party loyalty, he substituted personal connections to the state’s two most important (and quite conservative) publishers—Joe Knowland in Oakland, and Harry Chandler in Los Angeles. At the very least, these friendships helped neutralize papers that might otherwise have rejected his increasingly liberal agenda. He was a distinguished governor of California. The state was growing by as many as ten thousand new residents a week, and the pressures on the state’s schools, roads, and its water resources were enormous. Facing that challenge had made him tough-minded and pragmatic about government, its limits, and how best it could benefit ordinary people. He was both an optimist and an activist: If he did not exactly bring an ideology to the Court, then he brought the faith of someone who had seen personally what government could and should do to ameliorate the lives of ordinary people. That the great figures on the bench had so much more judicial experience—Black with sixteen years of service on the Court, Frankfurter and Douglas with fourteen each, and Jackson with twelve—did not daunt him. As he saw it, they knew more about the law, but he knew more about the consequences of the law and its effect on ordinary citizens. His law clerk, Earl Pollock, said years later that there were three things that mattered to Earl Warren: The first was the concept of equality; the second was education; and the third was the right of young people to a decent life. He had spent a lifetime refining his view of the role of government, and he came to the Court ready to implement it.

If there was any politician in America who reflected the Cold War and what it did to the country, it was Richard Nixon—the man and the era were made for each other. The anger and resentment that were a critical part of his temperament were not unlike the tensions running through the nation as its new anxieties grew. He himself seized on the anti-Communist issue earlier and more tenaciously than any other centrist politician in the country. In fact that was why he had been put on the ticket in the first place. His first congressional race in 1946, against a pleasant liberal incumbent named Jerry Voorhis, was marked by red-baiting so savage that it took Voorhis completely by surprise. Upon getting elected, Nixon wasted no time in asking for membership in the House Un-American Activities Committee. He was the committee member who first spotted the contradictions in Hiss’s seemingly impeccable case; in later years he was inclined to think of the case as one of his greatest victories, in which he had challenged and defeated a man who was not what he seemed, and represented the hated Eastern establishment. His career, though, was riddled with contradictions. Like many of his conservative colleagues, he had few reservations about implying that some fellow Americans, including perhaps the highest officials in the opposition party, were loyal to a hostile foreign power and willing to betray their fellow citizens. Yet by the end of his career, he became the man who opened the door to normalized relations with China (perhaps, thought some critics, he was the only politician in America who could do that without being attacked by Richard Nixon), and he was a pal of both the Soviet and Chinese Communist leadership. If he later surprised many long-standing critics with his trips to Moscow and Peking, he had shown his genuine diplomatic skills much earlier in the way he balanced the demands of the warring factions within his own party. He never asked to be well liked or popular; he asked only to be accepted. There were many Republicans who hated him, particularly in California. Earl Warren feuded with him for years. Even Bill Knowland, the state’s senior senator and an old-fashioned reactionary, despised him. At the 1952 convention, Knowland had remained loyal to Warren despite Nixon’s attempts to help Eisenhower in the California delegation. When Knowland was asked to give a nominating speech for Nixon, he was not pleased: “I have to nominate the dirty son of a bitch,” he told friends. Nixon bridged the gap because his politics were never about ideology: They were the politics of self. Never popular with either wing, he managed to negotiate a delicate position acceptable to both. He did not bring warmth or friendship to the task; when he made attempts at these, he was, more often than not, stilted and artificial. Instead, he offered a stark choice: If you don’t like me, find someone who is closer to your position and who is also likely to win. If he tilted to either side, it was because that side seemed a little stronger at the moment or seemed to present a more formidable candidate with whom he had to deal. A classic example of this came early in 1960, when he told Barry Goldwater, the conservative Republican leader, that he would advocate a right-to-work plank at the convention; a few weeks later in a secret meeting with Nelson Rockefeller, the liberal Republican leader—then a more formidable national figure than Goldwater—Nixon not only reversed himself but agreed to call for its repeal under the Taft-Hartley act. “The man,” Goldwater noted of Nixon in his personal journal at the time, “is a two-fisted four-square liar.

He was also a more astute politician than even his admirers realized. During his rise to power, he constructed his own base as an independent candidate not beholden to the oil interests in Southern California. For party loyalty, he substituted personal connections to the state’s two most important (and quite conservative) publishers—Joe Knowland in Oakland, and Harry Chandler in Los Angeles. At the very least, these friendships helped neutralize papers that might otherwise have rejected his increasingly liberal agenda. He was a distinguished governor of California. The state was growing by as many as ten thousand new residents a week, and the pressures on the state’s schools, roads, and its water resources were enormous. Facing that challenge had made him tough-minded and pragmatic about government, its limits, and how best it could benefit ordinary people. He was both an optimist and an activist: If he did not exactly bring an ideology to the Court, then he brought the faith of someone who had seen personally what government could and should do to ameliorate the lives of ordinary people. That the great figures on the bench had so much more judicial experience—Black with sixteen years of service on the Court, Frankfurter and Douglas with fourteen each, and Jackson with twelve—did not daunt him. As he saw it, they knew more about the law, but he knew more about the consequences of the law and its effect on ordinary citizens. His law clerk, Earl Pollock, said years later that there were three things that mattered to Earl Warren: The first was the concept of equality; the second was education; and the third was the right of young people to a decent life. He had spent a lifetime refining his view of the role of government, and

How the devil do you do that?” Lyle smiled down at her. What a braw lassie she was to own the attraction raging between them. “Magic,” he said, and again, he wasn’t entirely joking. “I don’t want to kiss you,” she growled. “Then you touch me, and—” “The world disappears.” “You feel it, too?” she asked, sounding as displeased as if she’d caught him eating peas off his knife at a state dinner. “My dear, I’m completely besotted.” His declaration didn’t please her. “This is stupid. I don’t know you.” She paused. “I’m not even sure I like you.” “Another kiss might help you decide.” He linked his arms around her waist. “I’m really an excellent fellow.” She regarded him from under lowered brows. “I have my father’s pistol.” The masquerade had served its purpose, but the time for disguises passed. “That’s an odd item for a wee housemaid to have in her possession,” he said in a silky tone. She was so lost in the sensual storm sparking between them, she needed a few seconds to realize what he meant. “My…my father is the gamekeeper here,” she stammered. He grinned with evil satisfaction. “Even odder that he’s got time for that, between the estate, a string of racehorses, and his parliamentary work, Miss Warren.” A beat of silence, while she stared appalled at him. Another. “You know who I am.” She sounded like she accused him of murder.

Be damned if I’ll call a woman I’ve kissed Miss Warren. Let me call you Charlotte.” She shook her head. “Formalities are safer.” His smile told her he thought she was crackbrained. Given her ardent response to his caresses, she had to agree. “Even if I’ve had you half out of your dress?” Could her cheeks get any hotter? “A gentleman wouldn’t mention that.” “Perhaps not. But I dare any man, however well-bred, to forget that glorious moment.” The

So, marriage, Miss Warren?” The suspicion that her expression was as vapid as her brainless hound’s sparked a revival of spirit. “Is that a proposal?” He laughed comfortably and tucked her closer. The delicious scent of clean male enveloped her. “No.” “Good.” “When I propose, you’ll be in no doubt of my intentions.” Even

What a day it had been. Just like this, destiny seized a man. He smiled out into the night. His particular destiny was breathtakingly pretty. And opinionated. And innocent. And demonstrated an intriguing talent for kissing. Content despite his frustration, he rolled over. Tomorrow he’d pursue this unorthodox courtship, and kiss Miss Warren, and perhaps convince her to favor his suit. Challenges all. As he closed his eyes, his hand slid under the pillow to touch the small leather case he’d kept with him since receiving it in London. *

Her lack of welcome couldn’t dampen his happiness at seeing her. He’d never been in love before. He’d never imagined love could strike a man harder than a rock falling on his head. Harder, and with the same lack of warning. But watching the slim, golden-haired woman lit by stark gray light through the high windows, he admitted the inescapable truth. He was head over heels with Charlotte Warren. He

He pressed his cheek to hers and closed his eyes on a prayer of gratitude for interfering fathers, and bad weather, and gorgeous, brave, clever lassies. From the first, he’d recognized Charlotte as the other half of his soul. But this profound emotion as he joined his body to hers exceeded anything he’d known. Buried deep inside her, he could swear they breathed as one. He loved Charlotte Warren with a purity and steadfastness that nothing could shake. He would wed her and claim her as his with every bond of church and state. But their true marriage started at this moment. The

I believe I told you I love you.” “Aye, you did, at that. Although you could have sounded a wee bit happier about it.” “Should I say it again?” “Aye, I’d like to hear it.” “Very well.” Her lips twitched, but she didn’t release the sheet. “I love you, Ewan Alexander Ardmore Macrae. I must be as mad as my father, but you’ve carved a place in my heart that belongs to you alone.” He nodded with satisfaction. “That’s better.” She cast him a sidelong glance. Dear Lord, she’d caught herself an enviable specimen of a man, even if he was far too inclined to tease. “Your turn, Lord Lyle.” He heaved a theatrical sigh. “You won’t let me out of this, will you?” “No.” His hand crept to the edge of the sheet, until she slapped it away. “I’m gey eager to see what’s under there.” “You know what you have to do first. Think of this as blackmail.” “Och, you’ll make a braw countess, Charlotte Warren.” “So?” His smile faded, and he kissed her with a depth of emotion that caught her by surprise. She shivered under the wordless worship of his lips. There was passion—as he’d said, passion was integral to their love—but there was also tenderness, and care, and something that felt like reverence. By the time he raised his head, she was boneless with longing and radiant with happiness. After that kiss, he didn’t have to say the words. She knew he loved her. Dazzled

He arched a mocking eyebrow. “Do you plan to stay and watch me dress?” Her blush intensified as she stumbled off the bed. “You’re a devil.” She planted her feet on the floor and struggled to do up her dress. While she fiddled, he wrenched the shirt over his head. Hearing a frustrated hiss, he bit back a smile and the impulse to tell her she was adorable. He stepped up to her. “Let me help.” To his surprise, she presented her back and swept the curtain of hair aside to reveal the graceful line of nape and shoulders. For a forbidden moment, he didn’t move, but inhaled until her flowery scent flooded his senses. “What on earth are you doing?” she asked, turning her head to give him a glimpse of her profile. Her features weren’t delicate. There was too much character in her nose and defiance in her chin. But he dared anyone who saw her ever to forget her. “Considering artistic matters,” he said gently. He set to doing up her gown. Much against his deepest inclinations. Her lips tightened. “Oh?” “You know, I’d never cast you as Cinderella.” He fastened the top hook and lowered his hands to her slim hips. He tempted fate—and self-control—but he couldn’t resist stringing out the physical contact. “You’re more queen than ingénue.” “Well, you’re no Prince Charming.” She wriggled free and faced him. To his regret, her dress once more covered her to the collarbones. “Tch, tch, no need to take your bad temper out on me.” And received a killing glance for his trouble. “It’s a cursed ill wind that landed you on my doorstep,” she muttered, just loudly enough for him to hear. His lips twitched. She wasn’t much good at deception — an appealing quality in a wife. She kept forgetting that she was meant to be a humble housemaid. Humility, like deceit, wasn’t easy for this imperious creature. Any man who took her on would never have the docile wife touted as ideal. But then, Lyle had never settled for the general run of things. If he married Charlotte Warren—and every moment inclined him more toward the outlandish idea—there would be fireworks. Luckily he loved fireworks. “On

On a night like this, you can’t sit around in your shirtsleeves,” she said, returning to playing the efficient chatelaine. “I can take it off again.” Alarm flashed in her eyes, but the way her gaze clung to his chest was deeply gratifying. When a man fell into instant lust with a pretty lassie, he liked to see his interest reciprocated. “You’ll get cold.” “I know the perfect way to warm up.” That blush was charming. She was such an enchanting mixture of strength and uncertainty. Aye, she’d make a grand wife, would Miss Charlotte Warren. “What

Hell,” he whispered. He swept her into his arms and leaned down to claim those plump, glistening lips. Her glorious taste thundered through him. Salty and tart like a mixture of green apples and the sea. He discovered without any real surprise that he’d craved the flavor of Charlotte Warren all his life. For

Having seen what the Earl Warren Court did with judicial power, Antonin Scalia and Robert Bork advocated an ethic of judicial restraint and deference to legislatures. Over time, however, conservative judges focused more and more on restraining legislatures through the courts by invalidating some laws as unconstitutional. Originalism was both a “shield” against judicial overreach and a “sword” to be used against acts of Congress.

The Jews have made it relatively safe for patriots who agree tacitly to remain in the official Jewish playpen. And the boundaries of that Jewish playpen consist of avoiding mention of just two things: RACE and JEWS... You are allowed to be an economic conservative; you are allowed to be against all sorts of pet hates of "conservatives", such as "big government", Earl Warren, low tariffs, taxes, unions, etc. But let any conservative mention the Jews publicly and he will promptly find himself attacked with maximum Jew terrorism. Let him say that he thinks there is some evidence that perhaps Negroes are not biologically equal to White People-and the floodgates of Jewish hate and sewage will be opened to pour upon his head such a torrent of abuse and smear that he will run like a rabbit. He will be termed a "racist", a "bigot", a "hater", a "fascist"-and finally, a "NAZI"!

Guitar Town was out, and it was doing okay," [Steve] Earle recalled. "But the label didn't want it to happen. Jimmy [Bowen] certainly didn't. He didn't like the record. He didn't like me. But it was out there and got really good reviews, though mostly from the rock side of things. . . . "'Guitar Town' was doing okay as the second single," Earle said. "Then around the same time, Bruce Springsteen walked into Tower Records in L.A. and bought a couple of things. He got Willy DeVille's first solo record, and he bought Guitar Town. A kid who worked there at Tower reported it, and it ended up in a column in Billboard. I sold fifty thousand records the next week and got booked all over the place. So that was it: I had a career largely because Bruce bought my record and it got into print.

Chapter One: Lady Maitland England, 1793 The Earl of Warren let his mind drift as his younger sister rambled on in a cheerful voice. Wilhelmina—or Minette, as everyone called her—could carry on a conversation for hours, no matter if the other person participated in the exchange. He had the questionable fortune to be sharing a carriage with her on a day-long journey to a friend’s home in Hertfordshire. “Will we be there soon?” Minette perched on the edge of her seat, craning to look out the window.

To get what you want, stop doing what isn’t working.” Earl Warren, Thirtieth Governor of the State of California,

To get what you want, stop doing what isn’t working.” Earl Warren, Thirtieth Governor of the State of California, Fourteenth Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. Section 21, Lot S-32, Grid M-20.5, Arlington National Cemetery.

Lord Lyle paused at the top of the steps and glanced around the massive space with its hammer-beam roof sporting angels with the Warren shield—three gold swans on a blue background. His expression was a mixture of awe and amusement. “Good Lord, lassie, I feel like Henry the Eighth.” She bit back the impulse to say that even if he took six wives, Charlotte Warren still wouldn’t count among their number.

I don’t understand what happened,” she said dully. “It’s quite simple.” He pushed up until he sat beside her, leaning against the bedhead. “I wanted to kiss you the moment I saw you.” Astonishment flared in her caramel eyes. And dangerous pleasure. He fought the urge to draw her back into his arms. He’d managed to stop once. Nothing on God’s green earth would restrain him if he succumbed to temptation a second time. “But why did I let you?” “Perhaps because we’re trapped here,” he said, knowing that the attraction went much deeper than mere propinquity. “It must be more than that.” She studied him with a troubled expression. “I’ve never acted this way before.” “I generally don’t leap on virtuous young women either,” he responded, stung. “You seemed to know what you were doing.” It sounded like an accusation. Lyle knew she picked a quarrel as a distraction. But he refused to oblige. He was experienced enough to know that a loss of temper would lead to a different loss of control. He stared into the fire and answered in a mild tone. “Does that mean you liked it?” “I don’t have much to compare it to,” she muttered. Shocked, he turned back to her. Shocked and disgusted with himself. He’d jumped on her like a starving man snatched at a cheese sandwich. “You make me feel like a beast.” He paused as he pondered just what she’d said. “Much or nothing?” She frowned at him. “What?” “You said you didn’t have much to compare my kisses to.” She blushed. “You have no right to ask that.” “I had no right to kiss you either. Yet I did.” His gaze sharpened. “Who’s been trifling with your favors? And where do I need to go to kill him?” She didn’t smile at his absurdity. Nor was he convinced he was joking. “I’ve been kissed before,” she admitted ungraciously. “It was…nice.” A grunt of laughter escaped as he sagged with relief. “I don’t need to kill him after all. Heaven help your swains if that’s the best they can do.” Miss Warren regarded him with displeasure. Thank God. He preferred her snap and fire to seeing her crushed with mortification. “Your kisses weren’t nice.” “I should hope not.” “And I do wish you’d put a shirt on,” she said crossly, shifting to the edge of the bed but still—interesting again—without making any move to leave. Feeling

His career, though, was riddled with contradictions. Like many of his conservative colleagues, he had few reservations about implying that some fellow Americans, including perhaps the highest officials in the opposition party, were loyal to a hostile foreign power and willing to betray their fellow citizens. Yet by the end of his career, he became the man who opened the door to normalized relations with China (perhaps, thought some critics, he was the only politician in America who could do that without being attacked by Richard Nixon), and he was a pal of both the Soviet and Chinese Communist leadership. If he later surprised many long-standing critics with his trips to Moscow and Peking, he had shown his genuine diplomatic skills much earlier in the way he balanced the demands of the warring factions within his own party. He never asked to be well liked or popular; he asked only to be accepted. There were many Republicans who hated him, particularly in California. Earl Warren feuded with him for years. Even Bill Knowland, the state’s senior senator and an old-fashioned reactionary, despised him. At the 1952 convention, Knowland had remained loyal to Warren despite Nixon’s attempts to help Eisenhower in the California delegation. When Knowland was asked to give a nominating speech for Nixon, he was not pleased: “I have to nominate the dirty son of a bitch,” he told friends.

To separate [colored children] from others of similar age and qualifications solely because of their race generates a feeling of inferiority as to their status in the community that may affect their hearts and minds in a way unlikely ever to be undone,” Chief Justice Earl Warren wrote.

Another reporter, John Hunter from the Capital Times in Madison, Wisconsin, attempted an interesting social experiment to measure the fear. On July 4, 1951, Hunter asked passersby to sign a petition comprising the first six amendments to the Constitution; the Fifteenth Amendment, which guarantees the right to vote regardless of race; and the preamble to the Declaration of Independence (“We hold these truths…”). People were so scared and suspicious that of the 112 people Hunter asked, only one agreed to sign.52 Most declined because they thought the ideas contained in those excerpts were too communist, un-American, or subversive. Twenty actually accused Hunter of being a communist. Responses included: “That might be from the Russian Declaration of Independence, but you can’t tell me that it is ours,” and “You can’t get me to sign that—I’m trying to get a loyalty clearance for a government job.”53 Other newspapers around the country repeated the experiment, with similar results.54 Reactions like these, remarked Chief Justice Earl Warren in 1955, “cause[d] some thoughtful people to ask the question whether ratification of the Bill of Rights could be obtained today if we were faced squarely with the issue.

The man of character, sensitive to the meaning of what he is doing, will know how to discover the ethical paths in the maze of possible behavior." - Earl Warren

I as a Judge of the Supreme Court of America should not be emotional", said Chief Justice Earl Warren, "but I must confess that though I have travelled all over the globe but never was I moved more emotionally than by the speech of the learned Advocate General of -Uttar Pradesh Mr. K.L. Misra today". Sri Siddharth Shankar Ray, Advocate

What is vital to appreciate is that neither the Korematsu decision nor the appalling violations of basic rights wrought by internment were created in a vacuum. Both were inevitable byproducts of a nation that had spent a century either perpetuating or acquiescing to slander and bigotry. Harlan Fiske Stone, Hugo Black, Earl Warren, and John DeWitt were no more responsible for the injustices perpetrated in the 1940s than were Horace Page, Ulysses Webb, James Phelan, Samuel Gompers, V. S. McClatchy, and William Randolph Hearst.

When the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, 42,000 native-born Japanese lived in California, as did 97,000 Germans and 114,000 Italians. The three groups were classified as “enemy aliens,” and were forbidden to enter military installations or the Canal Zone—as if anyone were traveling down there. They weren’t allowed to fly in airplanes or change residences within their own cities. They could no longer purchase or possess firearms, cameras, short-wave radios, codes, or invisible ink. Soon all enemy alien funds were frozen, and banks owned by enemy aliens were locked up—regardless of who the depositors were. In addition to these governmental restrictions, the populace at large—petrified by the possibility of radio-directed air raids—began making life difficult for the most easily recognizable enemy, the Japanese. Landlords evicted Japanese families; wholesalers stopped supplying products to Japanese businesses. The Japanese couldn’t get driver’s licenses, credit from banks, or milk delivered. On February 2, 1942, federal troops sealed the drawbridge and commandeered the ferry between Terminal Island and Long Beach. Of the four thousand people who lived on Terminal Island, more than half were Japanese farmers. The heads of all Japanese families were put under presidential arrest. On that same day, Attorney General Earl Warren recommended and received approval for a plan to have all Japanese aliens moved two hundred miles inland for the duration of the war. On February 19, a little over two weeks later, President Roosevelt issued Executive Order No. 9066, which authorized the Secretary of War to establish military zones within the United States from which any person might be excluded, subject to military regulation.