The Birth of an Advocacy Program
Ernest Hemingway once wrote that the only two
truly important things a man can accomplish during his lifetime are to write a
book or to have a son. To Hemingway, all else may indeed be of short-term
benefit but a man’s total worth comes down to either of these two achievements.
The legendary author reasoned that either the written word or a male heir would
live beyond his life and thus add true significance and meaning to an otherwise
vain earthly existence.
There may exist serious doubt as to the literal
truth of Hemingway’s premise, and one may rightly accuse him of gender
discrimination, but there exists no question that man’s quest for immortality —
the ability to influence others beyond one’s physical life — is surely an
eternal human quest.
Dean Garland R. Walker wrote no book. He did,
however, produce a son. This son is certainly not of the human type, but is
surely as much his natural son as any born of a natural father. His son is an
institution — South Texas College of Law.
Dean Walker began nurturing and molding this
infant child in 1959 when he joined the law school faculty. He then controlled
the development of the child by serving as the law school’s dean. He saw the
child grow from an institution of little contemporary respect to one of local
and national prominence in legal education.
His son soon developed a reputation for being
the nation’s most outstanding law school for teaching practical trial skills and
appellate argument. The Dean personally witnessed his son win eleven national
advocacy championships from 1978 to 1984. He certainly felt the pride that only
a father could feel in a son’s accomplishments.
Dean Walker was able to raise whatever money
his child needed to grow to maturity. I have no idea how he did it, but he did
it nonetheless. The surest way to befriend Garland Walker was to perform some
service that helped his son. The surest way to make an enemy of him was to hurt
his son or to cause him to stumble. Like a father, he recoiled at criticisms of
his son. But, like a good father, he would patiently apply those criticisms to
help the child fully develop.
In 1977, upon returning from a regional moot
court competition where South Texas was not only defeated but, much worse, was
afforded absolutely no respect whatsoever, I went to talk to the Dean. I told
him that with administrative support we could develop the nation’s top law
school advocacy program. I recall the sadness in Dean Walker’s face as I
informed him that our teams were not taken seriously at the regional level. That
same day, he enthusiastically called me in and told me to go ahead and do
whatever I deemed necessary for the Advocacy Program, but “never let us
embarrass ourselves again.” Since that day, South Texas has won numerous
national and state advocacy competitions. Needless to say, the Dean’s child was
never again treated without respect.
On those occasions when Dean Walker was not
personally present to see the school win a title, my duty was to telephone him
from New York, Chicago, Washington, or some other distant city with the final
results of a tournament. I do not have the ability to convey his euphoria upon
hearing that we had won, but his emotion seemed to be the same pride as that of
a father upon hearing of his child’s accomplishments.
Dean Walker, your child will continue to honor
you long into the twenty-first century, and your influence will be felt on him
forever. For a son never forgets his father.
Eulogy
for Dean Garland R. Walker, December 4, 1984
T.
Gerald Treece Associate
Dean and Director of the Advocacy Program
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