(Note: A condensed version of this essay appears as Mr.
Reed’s "Ideas and Consequences" column in the March 2006 issue of The Freeman,
the journal of the
Foundation for Economic Education and as a March 2006 Mackinac Center Viewpoint.)
In the closing months of this U.S. Supreme Court session,
pundits of every stripe will be assessing the impact of recent changes in the
court’s composition. If the justices themselves are interested in how they
measure up, there may be no better model than the court’s record under the
tenure of Chief Justice Melville W. Fuller.
It’s a sad commentary that in the mainstream media, courts
are often tagged with confusing and superficial labels, such as "conservative"
or "liberal" — terms loaded with political baggage and often manipulated by
those with an ax to grind. I prefer more clarifying questions: Does a particular
court interpret law or manufacture it? Does the court apply the Constitution
according to what the text says, or does the court abandon the text to
accommodate current whims, trendy ideologies or alleged "needs" of the moment?
Were our liberties more secure or less secure after the court did its work?
The Fuller court, encompassing a parade of justices who
came and went during Fuller’s 22 years as chief, was not perfectly consistent on
all counts. But more often than any subsequent Supreme Court, it did not stretch
either the law or the Constitution beyond what the words said. When the justices
found law to be in conflict with the Constitution, they usually sided with the
latter, because liberty under the rule of law was their highest priority. The
court upheld the importance of a limited federal role, strengthened the role of
the states in our federal system and defended contract and property rights
against a rising tide of egalitarian agitation.
Melville Weston Fuller was born in Augusta, Maine, in 1833.
Both sides of his family were staunch Jacksonian Democrats — hard money and a
small federal government being foremost among the principles they embraced.
After graduation from Bowdoin College in 1853, Fuller was admitted to the bar in
1855. A year later, he started a successful law practice in Illinois, where he
would reside until his elevation to the Supreme Court by President Grover
Cleveland in 1888.
As a one-term Democratic legislator in Illinois’ lower
house in 1862, Fuller condemned the Lincoln administration’s arbitrary arrests,
suspension of habeas corpus and other wartime indiscretions as assaults on
liberties guaranteed by the Constitution. He opposed both secession and slavery
but didn’t believe in quashing dissent and due process to vanquish them. As a
Democratic activist and advisor to candidates for national office, he opposed
protectionism as special interest legislation that hurt consumers. He decried
irredeemable paper money as a form of theft and fraud, even voting to forbid the
State of Illinois from receiving paper greenbacks as payment for state taxes. He
scrutinized public spending for waste and favoritism, once earning the wrath of
his colleagues by publicly opposing (unsuccessfully) a bill to give gold pens to
each member of the Illinois House.
In what biographer Willard L. King terms "the greatest
public speech of his career," Fuller seconded the 1876 nomination of Indiana’s
Thomas Hendricks for President in unmistakably Jeffersonian terms:
. . . [T]he country demands a
return to the principles and practices of the fathers of the Republic in this
the hundredth year of its existence, and the restoration of a wise and frugal
government, that shall leave to every man the freest pursuit of his avocation or
his pleasures, consistent with the rights of his neighbors, and shall not take
from the mouth of labor the bread it has earned.
The 1876 Democratic Convention nominated Samuel Tilden
instead of Hendricks, but many Democrats around the country remembered Melville
Fuller. One of them was Grover Cleveland, America’s 22nd and 24th president. The
last Jacksonian Democrat to hold the highest office, Cleveland wanted a chief
justice with an unblemished record of integrity who not only shared his
limited-government philosophy, but also was a good business manager who could
fix the backlog of cases at the high court, which was a full three years behind
in its work.
Fifty-five-year-old Fuller, who had argued many cases
before the Supreme Court over a 16-year period, was precisely the person
Cleveland was looking for. The president admired the fact that in his visits and
meetings with Fuller, the lawyer from Illinois had never asked him for anything,
even turning down three high posts within the administration. And he had taken
considerable public heat in defending the president’s hard money stance and his
numerous vetoes of spending bills. To thwart a possible decline by Fuller,
Cleveland announced his nomination before Fuller even gave his consent. He was
literally dragged into an office for which he didn’t lust but he quickly
distinguished himself as one of its most able and important holders.
Fuller charmed his fellow justices with his good humor,
thoughtful scholarship, and a remarkable capacity for friendly persuasion and
mediation. He began a custom (still in use today) of requiring each justice at
the start of a working day to shake the hand of every other justice. Through
efficient administration, he solved the problem of the court’s crowded docket.
The Fuller court should be most admired, however, for its
jurisprudence. Certainly, Americans who share the Founders’ vision can find much
about it to applaud. Fuller himself was at the center of it, often arguing for
When economic freedom was at issue, the Fuller court did
not carelessly allow governmental interference. An example: Prohibitionists in
Iowa secured passage of a law forbidding the sale of an interstate shipment of
liquor, but Fuller, writing the court’s majority opinion, declared the law a
violation of the Constitution’s commerce clause.
In other commerce-related rulings, the Fuller court
restricted the application of the almost incoherently broad language of the
Sherman Anti-Trust Act. Regulating the terms of interstate commerce and
transportation as the Constitution provided for was one thing, but federal
meddling in manufacturing and production was quite anathema to Fuller and most
of his colleagues. It was left to later courts to distort the commerce clause
and justify federal regulation of virtually every corner of the economy.
Every law school student studies
the Fuller court’s decision in Lochner v. New York, which is routinely held up
as emblematic of "heartless" 19th century laissez faire.New York law made it a criminal offense for both the
employer and the employee whenever bakery employees worked more than 10 hours in
one day, with no exceptions even for emergencies. Fuller joined the
court’s majority in throwing the law out because he saw it as a "featherbedding"
nanny state intrusion that was condescendingly paternalistic toward workers. If
workers could be drafted by the government to put their lives on the line in
battle, why couldn’t they be trusted to decide for themselves if they wanted to
work long hours in a bakery?
The Fuller court staunchly defended the sanctity of
contract by treating it, in the words of Vanderbilt University law professor and
biographer of the court James W. Ely, Jr., "as the controlling constitutional
norm." The court resisted attempts at congressional price- and rate-fixing. It
once unanimously threw out a Louisiana law that prohibited a person from
obtaining insurance from a company that was not qualified to do business in that
state. The justices’ feelings in this regard were summed up in a ruling in
another case in which the majority declared, "The legislature may not, under the
guise of protecting the public interest, arbitrarily interfere with private
business, or impose unusual and unnecessary restrictions upon lawful
occupations." Likewise, the court was far more respectful of property rights in
eminent domain cases than was last year’s Supreme Court majority, which shredded
the Constitutional requirement that eminent domain be used for public, not
Liberty of contract was a burning passion of Rufus W.
Peckham, one of Fuller’s closest allies on the court and another Cleveland
appointee. He spoke for the court in the Louisiana case mentioned above,
defining liberty under the Fourteenth Amendment in eloquent terms:
The liberty mentioned in that amendment means not only the right of the citizen to be free from the mere physical restraint
of his person, as by incarceration, but the term is deemed to embrace the
right of the citizen to be free in the enjoyment of all his faculties;
to be free to use them in all lawful ways; to live and work where he will;
to earn his livelihood by any lawful calling; to pursue any livelihood or
avocation, and for that purpose to enter into all contracts which may be proper, necessary and essential to his carrying out to a successful conclusion
the purposes above mentioned.
One of the finest moments of the Fuller court
was its rejection in 1895 of a federal income tax passed the previous year.
Pleas that Congress needed the money and egalitarian claims against other
people’s wealth carried little weight with the court. The Constitution forbade
direct taxation of that kind, and that was enough to overturn the tax.
In Melville Fuller, the country got just what
it and President Cleveland expected in 1888 — a chief justice who believed in
upholding, not remodeling, the Constitution. What he said in his 1876
endorsement of Hendricks was pretty much the way he and his court ruled from
1888 to 1910. When he died in office, he was the same man he had been 22 years
before, in that he didn’t succumb to temptations of power and ego by discovering
vast new constitutional duties for the federal establishment to inflict on the
people. He and most of his colleagues took seriously their oaths to defend the
supreme law of the land, a notion that seems sadly quaint in an age where
sweeping judicial activism is a mainstream law school principle.
If the Roberts court can measure up to the
Fuller court, America and our liberties will be the better for it.
Lawrence W. Reed is president of the Mackinac
Center for Public Policy, a research and educational institute headquartered in
Midland, Mich. Permission to reprint in whole or in part is hereby granted,
provided that the author and the Center are properly cited.