[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 152 (2006), Part 9]
[Senate]
[Pages 12523-12524]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]




                    TRIBUTE TO JUDGE S. HUGH DILLIN

                                 ______
                                 

                           HON. JULIA CARSON

                               of indiana

                    in the house of representatives

                        Thursday, June 22, 2006

  Ms. CARSON. Mr. Speaker, I rise to remark upon a good man, a great 
jurist, a wise friend now gone.

[[Page 12524]]

  On June 23, 2006, United States District Court for the Southern 
District of Indiana, sitting en banc in Indianapolis, will conduct a 
memorial ceremony in honor of an extraordinary man. In 1961, Mr. 
Speaker, President John F. Kennedy appointed Indiana's S. Hugh Dillin 
to serve as a Judge of that Court. After 45 years of service, earlier 
this year in a snow storm we said farewell to him in Indianapolis.
  A veteran of World War II, son of a lawyer in Petersburg, Indiana, he 
came up to the bench in Indianapolis through the politics of southern 
Indiana and our General Assembly, representing his beloved Pike County 
and leading the Senate.
  I will never forget him. When I was first elected to Congress, it 
happened that I had emergency surgery at about the time the rest of 
Congress was being sworn in here in this chamber. A little glum, I 
watched the festivity of that occasion from a hospital bed in 
Indianapolis. As I did so, Judge Dillin came to my room with a brief 
case, introduced himself and produced a single sheet of paper for my 
inspection, his appointment as a Deputy Speaker of this House, and 
remarked that he never expected to be so close to the line of 
Presidential succession as he came that day. He proceeded to administer 
the oath of office to me and I became a Member of this body and a 
friend of his for life. I was delighted to bring him to Washington for 
the next swearing in and a picture of him with me and Speaker Gingrich 
overlooks my desk today.
  He was a giant in the life of Indiana. All of his days he was a man 
of renowned wit and solid sense-based Hoosier wisdom, forever finding 
great voice in the resolution of disputes and the teaching of lessons, 
Much has been made of his stewardship of the Indianapolis school 
desegregation case which ground on for years, resulting in bussing of 
children to white suburban schools. A product of our segregated 
schools, I was always of several minds about the remedy but ended with 
confidence that he did his very best to follow the law in fashioning a 
solution. His life was threatened again and again for his trouble and 
bumper stickers advocated his impeachment, but he kept his listing in 
the phone book. He permitted the installation of security cameras and 
buzzers at his chambers but declined to lock his door.
  There were many other cases and controversies in the course of his 45 
years of service. His decisions involving Indiana's prisons and her 
treatment of inmates helped extend the Constitution to those so easily 
forgotten. In closing the disciplinary cells--dungeons, really--at the 
Indiana Reformatory he began his entry of judgment with a recitation of 
the Indianapolis ordinance relating to the treatment of pets, 
succinctly pointing out that animals in our city were entitled to 
better conditions than those cells at the Reformatory provided human 
beings. He brought the Constitution to bear on the plight of women who 
were prisoners in Indiana, extending equal protection of the law in 
ways which helped to bring them most of the opportunities provided to 
male prisoners of the state: the chance to further their educations, 
pursue meaningful job skills, and to be imprisoned under conditions 
commensurate with the crimes for which they were sentenced.
  There were smaller but important cases, too. A local Arsenal 
Technical High School girl, a fine baseball player, played on the 
``boy's'' varsity team. The Indiana High School Athletic Association 
rules forbade her team from competing with other teams as long as she 
proposed to play. After a day's trial, as he announced his decision 
from the bench enjoining enforcement of the rule, she rushed from the 
room, glove in hand. When he wondered aloud what he had done wrong, he 
got this answer: ``She's late for practice, Judge.'' That young woman, 
on account of her ability to compete, earned a college scholarship and 
an education she would not have had access to without his decision. She 
is a coach today, I am told.
  He was much sought after as a speaker and one speech bears particular 
mention. On the occasion of his retirement as Chief Judge, I believe it 
was, there was one of those huge festive gatherings of the worthies of 
bench and bar to celebrate his career and, as usual, his remarks were 
warmly anticipated. When a distinguished colleague of his pulled her 
guitar from under the table, faced him and sang a song about him, that 
was a hard act to follow. As he rose to speak, though, he mastered the 
crowd. ``I'll not talk long,'' he said. ``I have just 482 words for 
you, important words, many of which many of you have forgotten, or had 
no occasion to study for far too long.'' And then he read the Bill of 
Rights to the gathering.
  He lived his last years in Cambridge, Massachusetts, under the 
watchful eye of his beloved daughter Pat and was laid to rest in his 
beloved Petersburg. We miss him but his life and lessons, his spirit 
and his sagacity, his wit and wisdom, live on in our hearts, enriching 
us all.

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