Judge Abraham Lincoln Marovitz, in his chambers
It was Lincoln’s Birthday, 1992 or 1993. In those days, we still recognized Lincoln’s and Washington’s birthdays as separate holidays in Illinois. Lincoln’s birthday was not a Federal holiday, but the Oak Park schools were closed.
I had a hearing to attend in the United States District Court and decided to take my preteen daughter, Sarah, along with me. After the hearing I had a sudden idea. The chambers of Judge Abraham Lincoln Marovitz were just down the hall. Judge Marovitz had a large collection of Lincoln memorabilia on the outer wall of his chambers. So, I took Sarah, who was in middle school, over to look at it. I thought that would be fun on Lincoln’s birthday.
As we looked up at the extensive collection of documents and photographs, the door opened and Marovitz’ long time secretary came out. When she saw Sarah looking at the collection, she invited us to come into Judge Marovitz’ chambers. We entered what looked like a museum. Walls and glass cases were filled with more Lincoln memorabilia and artifacts. She pointed out several items of special interest and then asked if we would like to see the Judge’s inner chamber.
There we found an entirely different collection. It was focused almost entirely on his involvement with the Jewish community. We looked closely at some of the different items and then at a gorgeous, gleaming silver Tree of Life plaque hanging on a door - the door that went directly to the hallway, so that the judge could slip in and out and avoid petitioners waiting for him in his outer chamber.
A Torah Breastplate, somewhat similar to the plaque on the door.
Sarah and I looked up at it and were trying to read the Hebrew names of the tribes of Israel emblazoned on it, when the door suddenly opened. There, before us, stood a diminutive, wizened, man. He looked up at us with a smile and introduced himself, although no introduction was necessary.
I quickly introduced Sarah and myself, and mentioned that although I had never practiced before him he might remember my father. I didn’t finish the sentence. “Leonard Grossman,” he said, “Of course.” One of the proudest days of my like was a Zionist rally at the Chicago Stadium in 1948 when I had the privilege of sharing the podium with him.
He then entertained us with stories about those days. (This was very special to me because by the time I became a lawyer, there were very few lawyers left who remembered my father, who had died in 1956.)
Judge Marovitz may have been a tiny man, but he became a giant in my eyes that day. I never did have a case in front of him, but sometimes when I went to lunch at the Marquette Inn, I would spot him in a booth for two, and ask if I could join him and he would invite me to sit down.
And whenever this generic Presidents’ Day rolls around, I remember when we made meaningful distinctions and celebrated Lincoln and Washington on their own birthdays and I remember the Hon. Abraham Lincoln Marovitz.