The thin black wool gown that Judge John H. Bayly Jr. buttons each morning before heading to his assigned courtroom is a bit tattered of late. After nearly 14 years of daily use in the busy D.C. superior court that adjudicates legal concerns for locals in the nation’s capital, a replacement robe is finally in order. Make no mistake, though. The judge known throughout the H. Carl Moultrie Courthouse for his fondness for hand-knotted bowties and Latin phrases that send lawyers scrambling for their dictionaries does not let fraying cuffs and ragged pleats dampen his enthusiasm for his robed role.

“I can tell you, it’s a lot better when you are laying down the law,” says Bayly, the former Legal Services Corporation President, who has come to relish the view from behind the bench. Bayly served 11 years as a U.S. Attorney, worked as a counsel for various federal agencies, and was a lawyer in private practice in Washington, D.C. “[As a judge], no one says to you in the courtroom ‘I won’t do it’ or ‘drop dead.’ The Court of Appeals can tell you that, of course. But in court, the parties can’t say, ‘I’m getting someone else.’”

Navigating conflict is something of a specialty for Bayly. President George H.W. Bush appointed him to the 15-year judgeship in September 1990 after Bayly helped LSC survive one of the most turbulent periods in its history. Bayly spent two years as LSC General Counsel (1985-1987) and a year and a half as President (1987-1988) during a time when several individuals who staunchly opposed LSC’s mission were appointed to the Board of Directors by President Reagan. In 1987, LSC’s Chairman created a flap at the midyear meeting of the American Bar Association when he announced that the agency he oversaw should be abolished outright.

Thomas Smegal, a San Francisco lawyer who sat on the Board during those years, did not share the view of the LSC abolitionists. Smegal, a Republican, discovered a fellow traveler in Bayly. “Here is this conservative Republican,” Smegal recalls. “He was a quiet, unassuming guy. He wasn’t one to rock the boat. But John Bayly had a mind of his own. He got in there and wasn’t doing what the people who wanted to abolish the program [wanted]. Bayly lay in front of the train. He had the backbone to say, ‘We’re going to do what the LSC Act tells us to do. We’re going to play by the rules.’”

"Bayly lay in front of the train. He had the backbone to say, 'We're going to do what the LSC Act tells us to do. We're going to play by the rules.'"   -Thomas F. Smegal, former  LSC board member.

Bayly’s commitment to the cause ultimately cost him his job, when idealogues on the LSC Board voted 6-5 to remove him from office for refusing to do their bidding. Despite the tumultuous times, Bayly tried to focus on practical concerns during his year and a half as LSC President. A Legal Times article credited him with “toning down the ideological thrust” of the LSC debate by using a conciliatory style. He was an innovator as well, testing varied methods for expanding access to justice, such as the use of vouchers for poor clients to pay for private lawyers, the expansion of clinical programs in law schools, and the increased use of pro bono lawyers. 

Wearing the judicial robe has only strengthened Bayly’s resolve to secure legal representation for indigent clients. Pro se litigants, he has come to firmly believe, hurt themselves and hamper the smooth operation of the courts. “I heard this when I was at Legal Services, but now I understand why,” he says. “I see how very helpful it is not to have to be explaining and re-explaining something. Or there is the question of how to explain without appearing to offer advice. A lawyer gives people a day in court. It saves time. It prevents error. You don’t know what a relief it is when someone who was unrepresented comes in with a lawyer.” 

Bayly and the other 59 judges and 20 magistrates who sit on the bench of the Superior Court of the District of Columbia operate under a federal mandate, handling all of the criminal, civil, domestic, probate, small claims, and tax matters of Washingtonians. Bayly thrives on the pace. A felony criminal calendar has 180 to 200 cases at any one time; the misdemeanor docket doubles that. Judges rotate across the divisions of the court, each one as busy as the next.

In his year or so in private practice in Washington with Stein Mitchell & Mezines, Bayly opened his doors to pro bono clients. Prior to serving on the bench, he joined with a handful of other lawyers to found the Archdiocese Legal Network (ALN), creating a structure and guidelines for free legal services. The network, now fully active, connects impoverished clients of all religious backgrounds in the District of Columbia and Maryland with legal representation in matters dealing with employment, family, credit, immigration, and elder law, says Timothy Shea, a former LSC colleague who joined the ALN board at Bayly’s urging.

“Pro bono publico gives lawyers an understanding that they are a member of a profession that has a broad responsibility to the community,” Bayly says. “And it raises the consciousness of the bar about what’s necessary to provide legal services to people who can’t afford them. Without that involvement, private lawyers feel that they are not obliged to help, beyond writing a check for $500 at the end of the year.”

Judge Bayly's robe cannot conceal an earnest wit. "It can be very wearing to listen to testimony all day long," he says. "Sometimes, I hear those chilling words, 'I object," and I think, 'Uh-oh,'" A useful trick, the judge has discovered, is to ask a court reporter to read back testimony, at which time, he says, "You click to your sense and say, 'Aha!'" PHOTO CREDITS: Peter Cutts

On occasion, when an unrepresented individual appears before him in court with a complex issue, Bayly will pick up the phone and don his pro bono recruiter’s hat. “I say, ‘I know you have a commitment to pro bono, and I have a litigant here who could benefit greatly by having a lawyer.’ Sometimes they say ‘yes;’ sometimes ‘no,’ ” says Bayly. Mark Dix, a law clerk for the judge in 1998, recalls a family court case in which the judge found representation for parents who were convicted spies trying to raise objections to a proposed guardian for their children.

A traditionalist in other ways, Bayly can sometimes be seen carrying a book of Latin and Greek on the subway, translating a few lines of Cicero or Caesar on his 20-minute ride to work. His office is lined with classic literature. Off-hours, he attends scholarly seminars, participating in discussions with the American Inns of Court, which follow a British tradition of bringing together lawyers, judges, and law students for intellectual exchange and fellowship. “He is very artful at establishing a rapport with all kinds of people in a natural, genuine way,” says Shea.

A father of three daughters, Bayly manages to take some unfettered time off with his wife during the summer at nearby ocean getaways, but he has yet to take his full six weeks of allotted vacation. Bulging calendars and complex scheduling make holidays difficult to squeeze in, he says. One summer month in 1993, a lawyer appearing before Judge Bayly found himself with a contempt citation when he tried to slip in a vacation in Jamaica before the conclusion of a child abuse trial. He expects lawyers to be proper, well-prepared, and concise. “Don’t dress down,” advises former law clerk Chris Mitchell, now a Washington lawyer. Bayly writes opinions that are taut but well-researched, so much so that they are usually the first choice for citation when a similar issue arises in the courthouse.

"A lawyer gives people a day in court. It saves time. It prevents error. You don't know what a relief it is when someone who was unrepresented comes in with a lawyer. -Judge John H. Bayly, Jr.

“He’s a throwback. He thinks court is a reverent occasion, that it should connote something important,” says Dix, who went on to become a litigator for the District after clerking for Bayly. “All of the attorneys summarize Judge Bayly with one word: fair. That speaks volumes.”

Bayly’s sense of fairness and seriousness of purpose can be traced back to his LSC years, when he saw first-hand the difficulties that poor people faced in a courtroom when matters fundamental to their life and liberty were being litigated. When basic rights are at stake or when the law is too complex for a litigant to proceed pro se, Bayly says it’s “very important” for litigants to be represented. He points to denials of crucial benefits, problems with landlords, and issues of child custody as examples, as well as matters in which a person is brought unwillingly into court as a civil action defendant.

He won’t go on record supporting a “Civil Gideon” for such cases, but he has clearly given the issue a great deal of thought. “Whether a lawyer should be required, I’m not in a position to say,” Bayly says. “I don’t know that we are there yet.” And yet if all the hours logged in that tattered black robe have taught him one thing, it is that “the judge is almost always assisted by having a lawyer involved.”

n Cynthia L. Cooper is a freelance journalist in New York City who writes about law, justice, human rights, and women's issues. She has a background as a lawyer and worked for 2 ¹/₂ years as a legal aid attorney.