Judi French, who argued the state's case, is respected in legal circles for her dedication and preparation.

WASHINGTON -- She likes to say the insult didn't bother her.

It came when a prominent conservative fretted that Judi French lacked the experience to argue the pivotal school-voucher case before the U.S. Supreme Court.

"You don't have a rookie play in the Super Bowl,'' Clint Bolick, a conservative attorney with the Institute for Justice in Washington, was quoted as saying in an Aug. 30 story in The Plain Dealer of Cleveland.

Outwardly, French, then an assistant attorney general for Ohio, shrugged it off. She joked that it was flattering to be called a rookie at age 39.

But French resolved to quiet her critics by exhibiting perfection even during practice sessions. When Washington lawyers acted the roles of the nine justices, she vowed, she would argue with precision and polish. And when the momentous day in court arrived, she would perform flawlessly.

Yesterday, the "rookie'' who gave conservatives a first-class case of the jitters scored a major triumph on their behalf. The Supreme Court agreed with French's argument that Ohio could provide Cleveland students with tuition grants for private or religious schools.

The criticism made French and fellow Ohio lawyers on the case "the ultimate Cinderella team in the Supreme Court tournament, and she walked away with the trophy,'' said Walter Dellinger, acting solicitor general of the United States under former President Clinton.

Former Ohio Attorney General Anthony J. Celebrezze, Jr., a partner in the law firm of Porter, Wright, Morris & Arthur, where French once practiced, said that conservatives "vastly underestimated her if they were afraid she wasn't up to it.''

It was a characteristic performance by French, who has argued twice before the U.S. Supreme Court and twice before the Ohio Supreme Court. She first argued before the U.S. Supreme Court in 2000 in a case involving the Clean Air Act.

She has become an effective appellate attorney by blending her attention to detail with an engaging speaking style. She has relied upon those skills to advance from one legal job to another: private practice at Porter, Wright; counsel for the Ohio Environmental Protection Agency; assistant attorney general for the state and, just last month, chief counsel to Gov. Bob Taft.

"She prepares herself exceptionally well,'' said Kurt Tunnell, one-time legal counsel to former Ohio Gov. George V. Voinovich and now a partner in the law firm of Bricker & Eckler.

French is quick to blush at jokes about herself, but she is "all business when it comes to business,'' said Judge Michael Watson of Franklin County Common Pleas Court.

Another former counsel to Voinovich, Maria J. Armstrong, said she often would call French on Monday mornings, and "It was apparent she had worked all weekend.''

But then, she always has been serious and hardworking. In the sixth grade in her northeastern Ohio hometown of Sebring, she was so earnest that her teacher employed her as a "buffer'' between two students less serious about learning.

During high school, she was class president, edited the school newspaper, and played the flute in the band and piano for the choir.

While completing an undergraduate degree in political science at Ohio State University, French earned tuition by working as a secretary. As a law student at Ohio State, she found time to obtain a master's degree in history and spend her summers as a legal associate at Porter, Wright.

And while working the long hours necessary to practice law, she raised a daughter alone for nine years after her divorce and before remarrying last month.

"I have just been determined that being a single parent is not going to hold me back from the things I want to do,'' she said.

She devises meticulous schedules and sticks to them. When she worked in the attorney general's office, a typical day went like this:

"  8 a.m. -- Drop daughter, Julia, at elementary school.

"  8:30 a.m. -- Arrive at her office on E. Broad Street.

"  5:30 p.m. -- Fetch Julia.

"  6 p.m. -- Spend 3 1/2 hours with Julia

"  9:30 p.m. -- Open her laptop on the dining-room table and write legal briefs for the next few hours.

She first developed the knack for appellate practice as a law student at Ohio State.

Lawrence Herman, one of her professors, was impressed and urged her to join a collegiate "moot court'' contest -- sessions in which students argue cases before panels of professors acting as appeals judges.

Unlike flamboyant trial lawyers attempting to persuade juries, appellate lawyers argue appeals from the trial courts. They appear before panels of judges -- sometimes as few as three -- and often are interrupted by sharp questions.

"She just ate this stuff up,'' Herman said. "It's ideal for somebody who is smart and has an academic bent but doesn't want to get into the daily rough-and-tumble of trial work.''

French also discovered that she loved writing the legal briefs that lawyers file before oral arguments, saying, "The case is made or lost at the briefing stage.'' It is, she said, the "part of the process where you get to be the most expressive. You're not just analyzing the law; you're framing the argument.''

Before plunging into preparation for her appearance before the high court on vouchers, she celebrated her 39th birthday with a Bahamas cruise. She returned to the Plain Dealer story in which Bolick said he was appalled that Ohio Attorney General Betty Montgomery had not chosen a savvy Washington hand to argue the case.

Montgomery said she was furious about the remark, which she called "very unprofessional,'' and that it cemented her decision to stay with French.

French said that she did not become angry, although she conceded that she "worked very hard in not letting the comment get to me. . . . When you have people doubting you, you have to be careful that they're comfortable. I felt, because of the criticism, I had to be good -- starting with the first moot court.''

Living on hot tea and quick snacks, she wrote the legal briefs at her home and office and faxed them to the Washington offices of Kenneth Starr, the former independent counsel who advised the state on the case. She guessed at questions the justices would pose, scribbled them on index cards and wrote down the answers.

She took part in eight formal practice sessions, joking that such a high number is "unheard of.'' She practiced before Julia, although her daughter rolled her eyes when French addressed her as "Mr. Chief Justice.'' She practiced while driving down Rt. 33 toward her then-fiance's home in Canal Winchester, because she likes "to practice saying things out loud.''

She even prepared with precision how to approach the lectern from which lawyers argue before the justices. No coughing or tripping, she kept telling herself, saying that is "the moment where I have to be perfectly calm and not shake.'' As she practiced walking to the lectern, she played the soundtrack from the film Gladiator on a Walkman.

"People, I'm sure, thought I was crazy,'' French said. "When it comes to that kind of a case and how I approach a project like that, I am absolutely serious about it. I plan very early on what I am going to do, and nobody is going to budge me from that.''

During one of her final practice sessions in Washington, she argued that the Ohio legislature "did it right'' when it passed the voucher bill. "It didn't take too much money away from the public schools but gave enough for a limited program,'' she told the assembled lawyers.

Dellinger, who also served as an adviser, liked what he heard.

"That's terrific,'' he told French. "I'd make sure you say that in your rebuttal.''

By the weekend before the Feb. 20 argument, French was so comfortable that she decided to take the weekend off in Washington. The day before the argument, she stopped by the Lincoln Memorial, where she likes to read the Gettysburg Address on the walls.

The morning of the argument, she entered the Supreme Court through a first-floor entrance, convinced she was perfectly at ease. But she discovered that she was a little nervous. As she walked past a row of lawyers, she began to enter a door when a security guard said, "Ma'am, that's the men's room.''

Before entering the majestic second-floor courtroom, with its lofty ceilings and mammoth Italian marble columns, she added an extra touch for luck. She placed a diamond bracelet from her fiance on her left arm, next to the ruby bracelet she always wears -- a reminder of her late grandmother Macel.

Staring at the nine justices, she spoke calmly and clearly -- asserting that the Ohio law did not advocate religion. Parents could freely choose whether to send their children to religious or private schools.

"We offer both neutrality and true private choice,'' French said.

Watching from a seat in the chamber, Edward B. Foley, the former state solicitor and now a law professor at Ohio State, thought French provided a clear contrast to Robert H. Chanin, the attorney for the National Education Association. While French was coolly persuasive, Chanin was argumentative.

"Obviously, Chanin was a disaster,'' Foley said, shifting attention to French. "She's not unduly argumentative in tone. She's forceful in an effective, low-key way.''

Yesterday, as he emerged from the court, Bolick, the man who had publicly called her a rookie, agreed as well:

"Judi French did a fine job in oral arguments,'' he said. "Her demeanor couldn't have been better compared with the stridency of the (lawyer for the) teachers union.''

Copyright © 2002, The Columbus Dispatch