                        JACOBUS TENBROEK:
                   THE MAN BEYOND THE MOVEMENT

     From the Associate Editor: Probably every state affiliate of
the National Federation of the Blind still boasts some members
who were lucky enough to have met Dr. tenBroek or even to have
known him well. As I travel to various state conventions, I meet
these people, and what strikes me is the delight and reverence
that seem to suffuse each of them as the recollections begin to
flow and the anecdotes of his activities and pronouncements are
retold and savored. I regret deeply that I never met our beloved
founder, but I cannot truly grieve for my loss because in a very
real sense he lives on in everything we do and every step toward
equality we take as a movement. As Dr. Jernigan has said, "It
would be equally accurate to say that the man was the embodiment
of the movement or that the movement was the expression of the
man." 
     All of us recognize to varying degrees the truth of Dr.
Jernigan's statement. What we take with less seriousness and
understand with far less clarity is the profound effect Dr.
tenBroek has had on the world beyond the National Federation of
the Blind and the blindness field. Dr. Jernigan tells the story
of boarding a train in Boston four or five years ago and
overhearing several young people, obviously law students,
vehemently arguing about the effect of tenBroek on the legal
point they were debating. Somehow our very reverence for Dr.
tenBroek within the context of our own knowledge of his greatness
has served to diminish our appreciation of his larger
contribution to the American scene and the direction of legal
thought in the twentieth century. 
     It has been given to that other group of people whose lives
have been irrevocably changed and profoundly enriched by Dr.
tenBroek's influence (his students) to broaden our understanding
and deepen even further our appreciation of our founder's
contribution to the world. In the September, 1992, issue of the
California Monthly, the publication of the Alumni Association of
the University of California at Berkeley, one of those students,
Frank Winston, set forth his recollections of Dr. tenBroek. Here
is what he said:

[PHOTO: Dr. tenBroek sitting at his desk using a Braille writer.
CAPTION: Dr. tenBroek was always surrounded by books. His wife
Hazel told the testimonial dinner audience that two of the
reasons the couple bought the Shasta Road house in which they
lived for many years was their growing family and growing
library. In this picture Dr. tenBroek's Hall Braille writer sits
on the walnut stand he always used, and his law books are ranged
behind him as he works at his desk.]

                       On Jacobus tenBroek
                      by Frank D. Winston 

     In February, 1951, I was a seventeen-year-old freshman who
needed to satisfy Speech 1A or English 1A. Confidently thinking I
had a gift of gab, I enrolled in an eight o'clock "pre-law" class
taught by Professor Jacobus tenBroek, Berkeley class of '34,
Boalt School of Law class of '38. He was an attorney, having
earned doctorates in law from Boalt and Harvard. His class
focused on analyzing scholarly writings and U.S. Supreme Court
cases dealing with Constitutional law. It turned out to be a more
miraculous class than any beanie-sporting freshman had the right
to expect.
     One unusual factor was that tenBroek had what to most of us
would be a handicap--he was blind. No stranger visiting his
course would ever have guessed it, though. From the opening
class, when he took the roll of his twenty-five students on
Braille cards, until the next class when he looked directly at
you before calling your name (he asked you to sit in the same
area each time, though not any assigned seat), you knew you were
in for a very bright ride.
     Terror was instilled if you ever dared to be late to his
class. As soon as you entered his classroom, he would track you
after two steps and identify who you were and where you were
headed. The dreaded colloquy would go something like this:
     T.B.: "Greenwood, any idea what time it is?"
     G.: "Yes, sir. Ten minutes after the hour."
     T.B.: "It is fifteen minutes after the hour."
     G.: "Yes, sir."
     T.B.: "Greenwood, do you know what time this class starts?"
     G.: "Yes, sir. Ten minutes after the hour."
     T.B.: "After what hour?"
     G.: "Eight o'clock, sir."
     T.B.: "And by what clock? The Campanile?"
     G.: (Resignedly) "Yes, sir."
     Jacobus tenBroek reminded you that it made no sense to raise
your hand in his classroom when you wanted attention, because he
couldn't see it. Nor did it make sense to call out his name,
since everybody knew it. Professor tenBroek's solution was to
invite you to interrupt him (or a fellow student) by shouting out
your own name and hoping for recognition. By that simple
technique we all got to know the names of our less timid
classmates very quickly.
     TenBroek led his classes while methodically stroking his red
goatee, perhaps to slow the pace of his constant inquisition. He
had a great ability to take any side of an argument. It didn't
matter what side you took, because he would confirm or create a
controversy anyway, to your great discomfort. And if you read
aloud from any case and left out a word, he would immediately
jump in and correct you.
     Fellow tenBroek alumni and colleagues may well have been
inspired to their accomplishments by his tutorship. They include
retired California Supreme Court Justices Allen Broussard '50,
Boalt '53, and Frank Newman, Boalt '41; State Senator Dan
Boatwright '56, Boalt '59; Appellate Court Justices Robert
Puglia, Boalt '58; Fred Marler '54; Boalt '59; and Coleman Blease
'52, Boalt '55; former U.S. Commissioner of Immigration Alan C.
Nelson '55, M.B.A. '58; University of Texas law professor (and
Chicago Eight co-counsel) Michael Tigar '62, Boalt '66; and many
other prominent Cal grads.
     TenBroek was always a strong advocate for the rights of the
disabled. In 1940 he founded the National Federation of the Blind
(NFB), the largest and most influential of the organizations
representing blind people. His wife Hazel worked with him in NFB
activities and remains active in the organization. Hazel tenBroek
also became a key member of an advisory group to Alan Nelson '55
when he served as State Director of Rehabilitation in the early
1970's.
     Professor tenBroek died in 1968, but generations of students
remember his charm and wit, the fun of his classes, and his
scholarship. Michael Tigar, in remembering tenBroek, told the NFB
convention in 1968: "Professor tenBroek taught by the Socratic
method, [but] was Socratic in more than technique. He really
compelled us to confront fundamental issues....In the University
community, too, he was a fierce and formidable defender of
academic freedom for students and teachers. If Socrates had had
such a defender, Athens's hemlock supply would not have been
depleted."
     Recently, as I carefully read a major decision of the U.S.
Supreme Court's 1991-1992 term, I trembled with the recognition
that if I dared to skip or misread a word, tenBroek's voice would
ring in my ears, forcefully reminding me of the importance of
rational reading. Nor will I forget his concern for the poor and
disadvantaged, which he championed long before it became
politically correct. Hail Cal! Hail tenBroek!     

     There you have one student's recollection of Dr. tenBroek,
and he is not alone in the warmth and gratitude he feels toward
his professor and guide for the impact he had on his students'
lives and cast of mind. A group of Berkeley alumni who remembered
Dr. tenBroek's influence on them began planning a dinner to honor
their teacher and mentor on October 30, 1992. In order to
assemble the invitation list, they asked Mrs. tenBroek to prowl
through old files in search of Dr. tenBroek's class lists. The
task was enormous, but it was clearly necessary if all the former
students who wanted to come were to be notified. More than one
hundred fifty of them dropped everything and came, many from
across the country, to be together for this absolutely unique
evening of tribute, recollection, and laughter.
     Among those invited, of course, were Dr. Jernigan and
President Maurer. Unfortunately, the general assembly of the
World Blind Union was taking place that week in Cairo, and the
presence of both NFB leaders was required. Dr. Jernigan, however,
prepared a tape-recorded message, which was played to the guests
at the beginning of the evening's festivities. Here is the text
of his remarks:

[PHOTO: Jacobus tenBroek and Kenneth Jernigan seated at a desk
examining building blueprints. CAPTION: In 1961 Dr. tenBroek
visited Dr. Jernigan at the Iowa Commission for the Blind in Des
Moines. Here the two examine blueprints.]

     The purpose of this dinner tonight is to bring together as
many of us as possible whose lives were touched by Jacobus
tenBroek. It would not be possible, obviously, to bring all of
the people together who fall into that category. Recently, when I
talked to Alan Nelson, I told him that nothing would keep me away
from this dinner except the fact that I am going to be out of the
country. I also told him that I would like to share with you the
preface that I wrote in 1990 to a little book called Jacobus
tenBroek: The Man and the Movement. I first put this book
together in 1968 when Dr. tenBroek died, and it was reissued in
1990, on the fiftieth anniversary of the National Federation of
the Blind. 
     The preface tells as well as I know how--at least in brief
form--some of the things that Dr. tenBroek meant to me and the
relationship we had. Here is the preface: 

   I first met Jacobus tenBroek in the summer of 1952. He was in
the prime of his vigor as an author, a college professor, and the
leader of the organized blind movement in the United States; and
I was the newly elected president of the Tennessee affiliate of
the National Federation of the Blind. We were immediately drawn
to each other--he as mentor and role model and I as protege and
willing student. But our relationship was not one of difference
and distance. Rather, it was one of collegiality and partnership
in a joint effort--the bringing of equal rights and first-class
status to the blind.
   In 1953 I moved to California to work on the faculty of the
state orientation and adjustment center for the blind, and since
the Center was in Oakland and Dr. tenBroek lived next door in
Berkeley, we were in constant communication. During the next five
years I spent many delightful hours in the tenBroek home, where
Dr. and Mrs. tenBroek served sumptuous meals, entertained
interesting guests by the roaring fire in their 1,600-square-foot
living room, and provided mental stimulation and lively talk. For
me it was a time of growth--of finding myself, of making lasting
commitments, and of determining what my life's work would be.
   In 1958 I moved to Iowa to become director of the state
Commission for the Blind, but my relationship with Dr. tenBroek
did not weaken. Year by year it grew stronger as we worked in the
common cause of building the National Federation of the Blind.
Through the trials of the organization's civil war, the
rebuilding of the mid-1960's, and the period after he learned
that he had cancer in 1966, Dr. tenBroek and I were an
inseparable team. He faced his terminal illness as he faced
everything else in his life, matter-of-factly and looking to the
future.
   By the fall of 1967 it was clear that he had only a few months
left, and I began to write and assemble Jacobus tenBroek: The Man
and the Movement. It was never intended as a print or Braille
publication but as a recording of the actual sounds of his
speeches. He died on March 27, 1968, and that very afternoon
(with heavy heart) I finished my work on the master tapes and
sent them off to the recording studio.
   The national convention was held in Des Moines that summer,
and every person who attended was given the recording of Jacobus
tenBroek: The Man and the Movement. That was twenty-two years
ago, and much has happened during the intervening time. The
Federation has grown in power and influence; the National Center
for the Blind has been established in Baltimore; and a whole new
generation of blind Americans has come to leadership in the
movement. But essentially the National Federation of the Blind is
still the organization which Jacobus tenBroek planned and loved
and labored to build. The basic philosophy is the philosophy
which he propounded; the underlying structure is the structure
which he established.
   Therefore it seems particularly appropriate in this year of
the fiftieth anniversary of the National Federation of the Blind
that Jacobus tenBroek: The Man and the Movement be reissued--and
this time not only in recorded form but also in print and
Braille. He was the first president of the organization, and he
will be a principal element in the administration of the last
president, whoever and whenever that may be. In writing this
preface and working to issue this publication, I give tangible
expression to the debt which I owe to Jacobus tenBroek and to the
love which I bore him. He was the guiding force of my formative
years and the touchstone of integrity by which I have measured
the actions of my later life.
   The third generation of the movement is now in the flower of
its strength, and the fourth generation is coming to maturity.
The National Federation of the Blind is in good hands, and the
spirit of Jacobus tenBroek is vibrantly alive in the unity of
purpose and the drive to freedom of its leaders and members.

                                                 Kenneth Jernigan
                                              Baltimore, Maryland
                                                    May 18, 1990 

     That is what I said in 1990, and I can do no better on this
occasion. May this be a wonderfully pleasant event, filled with
gusto--just the sort of thing Dr. tenBroek would have enjoyed. 

[PHOTO: Dr. and Mrs. tenBroek stand at the head table during an
NFB national convention banquet. CAPTION: Dr. and Mrs. tenBroek
at a National Federation of the Blind convention.]
 
     There you have Dr. Jernigan's remarks to the testimonial
dinner, delivered by tape recording because of his absence from
the country. As a memento of the evening, each dinner guest was
presented with a print copy of the book, Jacobus tenBroek: The
Man and the Movement. As President of the National Federation of
the Blind of California, Sharon Gold was also invited to speak to
the assembled guests as part of the evening's program. Here are
her remarks: 

     Mr. Chairman, members of the dinner committee, and
distinguished guests: 
     It is a privilege to take part in this tribute to the great
teacher and leader Jacobus tenBroek. I did not have the
opportunity to meet, know, and study under Dr. tenBroek
personally; yet Jacobus tenBroek has been my mentor and has
directed my life and the lives of all blind people, whether or
not we knew the living man. 
     The American journalist and author Walter Lippmann said,
"[T]he final test of a leader is that he leaves behind him in
other men the conviction and the will to carry on." Measured by
the highest standards, Dr. tenBroek has met that test, and this
gathering of his students tonight is but one more example of the
strength of his leadership. 
     Many people knew Jacobus tenBroek as an author, a scholar, a
university professor, and a constitutional lawyer. So profound
were Dr. tenBroek's writings that his treatises are still studied
by law students across the country. Others know him as the
founder and first president of the National Federation of the
Blind. Jacobus tenBroek conceived of this organization as a
vehicle enabling blind people to speak out on issues of concern
to them. It was his call to the blind in 1940 that resulted in a
constitutional convention in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania, at which
he directed a handful of blind people representing seven states
in the founding of the National Federation of the Blind. 
     For twenty-eight years, President tenBroek led the blind of
this nation and the world. He taught us that through organization
and collective action we can be equal partners in society. He
taught us that blind people need not be wallflowers clinging to
the periphery of life but that we should step out and step into
the mainstream, walking the streets and byways with our heads
high and spirits proud. 
     The speeches and documents written by Dr. tenBroek, which
address the rights of the blind and disabled, are the foundation
of the philosophy of the National Federation of the Blind. As he
traveled the length and breadth of this country and other
nations, President tenBroek's following increased and young
leaders emerged. When Jacobus tenBroek died in 1968, the torch
passed to his protege Kenneth Jernigan, the leader of the new
generation of informed blind Americans. Expanding the foundation
that Dr. tenBroek built, Dr. Jernigan led the Federation's growth
to a membership of more than 50,000 blind people. 
     The third generation has now assumed the leadership of the
National Federation of the Blind. Under the presidency of Marc
Maurer, a young attorney who grew up in Iowa, the organization
continues to grow and mature. As it grows, the teachings of
Jacobus tenBroek live on, and those of us who have come to the
organization since the late 1960's still turn to his writings for
strength and guidance. 
     In the last years of Dr. tenBroek's life he put much effort
into organizing the blind of other nations. This very evening Dr.
Jernigan and President Maurer cannot be with us because they are
continuing Dr. tenBroek's efforts on behalf of the blind of the
world. As the President of the North America/Caribbean Region of
the World Blind Union, Dr. Jernigan is in Cairo attending the
quadrennial meeting of the WBU, to which President Maurer is also
a delegate. 
     No remarks about Dr. tenBroek would be complete without a
word about his widow Hazel, who has devoted more than fifty years
of her life to improving the lives of blind Americans. During the
twenty-four years since Dr. tenBroek's death, Hazel has worked
diligently to promote the organization she helped her beloved
husband found. During these years she has continued to honor
their partnership and has kept the faith they shared. We
affectionately call her "Mrs. T". She is a leader in her own
right and, to me, a wonderful personal friend. Mrs. T's favorite
evening activity is to invite as many Federation members for
dinner as the dining room table will accommodate and to discuss
the current work of the NFB. Of course, the evening is never
complete without a story or two about Chick and the Shasta Road
house. 
     The blind are an emerging minority, and the National
Federation of the Blind has led the way in our quest for first-
class citizenship. With conviction and the will to carry on, we
go forward in our march with the Federation song on our lips:
"tenBroek has sounded trumpet which shall never sound retreat; We
have sifted out the hearts of blind before our Judgment Seat; Oh,
be swift all blind to answer and be jubilant your feet; Our Cause
goes marching on." 

     Those were the remarks that Sharon Gold made at the tribute
dinner for Dr. tenBroek. When she delivered her annual report to
the 1992 convention of the National Federation of the Blind of
California on November 7, she attempted to capture the spirit of
the dinner for her hearers. Here are excerpts from her report: 

     To the members of the National Federation of the Blind,
Jacobus tenBroek's life and leadership were profound. Dr.
tenBroek conceived of a national movement of blind people that
would be self-directed and would establish the right of blind
people to determine their own destiny. He led blind people to
form the NFB at a time when the blind were virtually barred from
the mainstream of community life. Because of his wisdom and
foresight, we are assembled here today to share our ideas and
ideals through the 1992 Convention of the National Federation of
the Blind of California. 
     Jacobus tenBroek was a great American. He was a
constitutional lawyer, a renowned author, a respected teacher,
and professional colleague. For twenty-five years Dr. tenBroek
was a member of the faculty of the Speech and Political Science
Departments at the University of California at Berkeley. He also
served a term as chairman of the Speech Department. 
     Last Friday evening, October 30, a testimonial gathering was
held in San Francisco by Dr. tenBroek's former students. These
men and women traveled from near and far to honor and pay tribute
to the University professor who taught them more than Speech 1A.
Not only did Dr. tenBroek have a profound influence on the lives
of his fellow blind, he also had a profound influence on the
lives of his university students, many of whom have gone on to
become noted lawyers, university professors and deans, lawmakers,
state appellate justices, California Supreme Court Justices, and
a U.S. Commissioner of Immigration. 
     Dr. tenBroek died in 1968. Now, twenty-four years later,
over one hundred fifty of his former students gathered to
celebrate the influence that this great man had on their lives.
Frank D. Winston, a San Francisco immigration attorney and one of
the organizers of the tenBroek Tribute Dinner, was the master of
ceremonies for the event. Mr. Winston said of Dr. tenBroek,
"There are an incredible number of people on whom he had an
impact. In many cases he is the only professor they remember from
their entire college careers." 
     In his opening remarks Mr. Winston said in part, "In the
1930's, when Jacobus tenBroek first applied to teach at the
University, he was denied that privilege, as he was later at
other schools and universities. We know of his scholarliness and
his intensity. But he threatened the university, not with a
lawsuit, but with his very style by saying, `I will teach for
free; and at the end of the semester, if you are convinced that a
blind professor cannot operate, then you fire me.' He later
became chairman of that same department that didn't wish to hire
him. It's because of that fortitude that we are here tonight."
     During the evening's program one of the committee members
roamed through the crowd with a portable microphone. Former
students stood and spoke from their hearts about the life and
teachings of Professor tenBroek and how he touched their lives
and careers. 
     One of Dr. tenBroek's students said, "I have extremely fond
memories, memories of awe of Jacobus tenBroek--the ability he had
to open up, make you think, make you read, substitute reason for
bias and prejudice. I am very pleased that I was asked to come
here tonight to remember this great man. He played a great, great
part in my life."
     Another student posed the question, "What kind of an affair
is this?" He then responded with his own answer, "I'll tell you
one thing it is. It's a tremendous joy and pleasure to know that
so many of us have come together simply to celebrate the fact
that this great man touched our lives. I think we ought to give a
lot of applause to the people who took time to organize this
event this evening."
     Another of Dr. tenBroek's former students chose to attend
the tenBroek Tribute Dinner even though he was celebrating the
conclusion of twenty-five years of directing the Continuing
Education at Bar of the University of California Extension
Service. He said, "Even though it is my retirement day, my last
day, I'm going to share it with the people who took tenBroek, as
I did."
     Yet another student said, "I think tenBroek touched all our
lives, and, as has been noted, many of us have probably been
influenced by him more than anyone else we had in college. It
reminds me of some lines from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's poem,
`The Psalm of Life.' It goes like this:

     Lives of great men all remind us 
     We can make our lives sublime, 
     And, departing, leave behind us 
     Footprints in the sands of time.

I think tenBroek left great footprints."
     Dr. Jernigan has said of Dr. tenBroek that so much a part of
Dr. tenBroek's life was the National Federation of the Blind that
you cannot separate the man from the movement or the movement
from the man. Although they did not say it like this, throughout
the Tribute Dinner, the statements of Dr. tenBroek's former
students reflected the sentiment that you cannot separate the man
from his teaching or the teachings from the man. The students
came to celebrate the greatness of Jacobus tenBroek. Because he
was a blind man and the founder and first leader of the National
Federation of the Blind, Dr. tenBroek's students could not pay
tribute to their teacher and mentor without bringing honor to the
National Federation of the Blind. Thus these wonderful students
advanced the cause of blindness and touched each of our lives and
the lives of all blind people to follow us by every testimonial
word they said. 


[PHOTO: The tenBroek family seated on a sofa looking at a photo
album. CAPTION: This family portrait was taken in 1958. Young
Jacobus (Dutch) was thirteen, Anna was ten, and Nick was five.
The family are seated in the lower section of the large living
room in the Shasta Road house.]

[PHOTO: Dr. tenBroek embraces his son Nicolaas. CAPTION: Dr.
tenBroek and Nicolaas.]

[PHOTO/CAPTION: Dr. tenBroek repairs the children's scooter while
Anna and Nick look on.]

     That is the way Sharon Gold assessed the significance of the
tenBroek testimonial dinner. In mid-January the videotape
recording of the event became available, and it was clear to
everyone who saw it that Miss Gold had been correct when she said
that in her report she had only quoted a few of the many moving
anecdotes and testimonials. It seemed unfair to deny Monitor
readers the pleasure of sharing a number more of the evening's
highlights. Therefore, what follow are summaries and
transcriptions of many more comments and reminiscences:

     Frank Winston, the writer of the magazine article printed
earlier, served as the evening's master of ceremonies. A few
minutes after the dinner began, he directed the attention of the
audience to the back of the room, where apparently the hapless
Greenwood of Winston's Cal Monthly reminiscence was to be seen
slipping in late. Then followed a tenBroekian interrogation about
the scheduled time of the dinner, the current time, and the clock
by which the time was to be determined. It was clear that
everyone in the group recognized the style of the interchange,
and it set the tone of the evening. 
     After Dr. Jernigan's remarks had been played, Mr. Winston
pointed out that it was fitting that this dinner was taking place
in 1992 since the previous July the Americans with Disabilities
Act had begun protecting an even broader group of disabled
citizens. He went on to say that the commentary on the Act and
the Congressional testimony all reached back to the language of
advocacy that Dr. tenBroek's students remember and recognize from
his advocacy of the blind in the forties and fifties. Reading the
history of what followed, Mr. Winston continued, shows clearly
that Dr. tenBroek's thought translated into advocacy, not only
for all those with physical and mental disabilities, but for
everyone who is disadvantaged. When the civil rights movement
gathered force and power in the sixties and seventies, its theme
and leadership style were based on that which Dr. tenBroek's
students had observed in him in the fifties. "His messages of
those early years are vibrant in society today." 
     One of the guests reported that he had worked as a reader
for one of Dr. tenBroek's colleagues in the Speech Department.
One day the professor mentioned that Dr. tenBroek was going to
build a retaining wall on his property the following weekend and
that he supposed he would be a good guy and volunteer to help
him. On Monday morning the student inquired about how the
building project had gone. The professor's answer was short and
very much to the point: "I got a hell of a lesson in how to build
a retaining wall." 
     The speaker went on to say: "When I took Speech 1A, I didn't
know what to expect--whether it was going to be a class in
rhetoric or how to stand up and give a speech. I found out it was
a course in how to think. Like most freshmen I was a slate upon
which nothing had been written when I entered college, and he
[Dr. tenBroek] wrote very rapidly and very well." 
     A theme running through the comments was the speakers' awe
at Dr. tenBroek's ability to make them think and to seize on an
argument opposing their own in order to stretch their minds. One
speaker described a five-minute speech that he gave in support of
national health insurance. He presented his argument, annihilated
the opposing points of view, and concluded with the statement,
"National health insurance is as American as apple pie and needed
more." Dr. tenBroek, a man of Dutch ancestry, immediately shot
back, "Who told you that apple pie was American?" 
     One man pointed out that in his Speech 1A class a fellow
student turned up a copy of Dr. tenBroek's book The Anti-Slavery
Origins of the Fourteenth Amendment and began using tenBroek's
arguments to bolster his own positions in class discussions. The
speaker reported that it made no difference; Dr. tenBroek still
destroyed his arguments. 
     Several people spoke of Dr. tenBroek's great humanity. One
speaker remembered a day when he and another student were both
late for class. He was running for student government office at
the time and was under a great deal of pressure as a result. When
the students arrived, Dr. tenBroek began needling the other
student in his accustomed way. The student responded by pointing
out that he was not the only one late that day. Dr. tenBroek
immediately shot back, "I don't see your name as anybody running
for public office." And Mrs. tenBroek remembered a time when her
husband learned that one of his students was going to lose a
much-needed scholarship to medical school because he had earned a
B in Speech. When he learned about the problem, Dr. tenBroek
said, "He's going to be a fine doctor some day; his grades show
that. Why should I hold him back?" So he changed the grade to an
A. 
     Another man remembered an incident during a tenBroek class
in which a young woman, who appeared to be attending college
solely in order to find a husband, timidly spoke her name in the
discussion one day. She had never made a contribution before,
partly because she was unsure of herself in the academic rough
and tumble of the class and partly because there were so many
brash and self-assured students vying for the opportunity to
speak. But Dr. tenBroek heard her voice and recognized her.
Gently, with none of the needling that he reserved for most of
the students, he drew out of her the ideas she had only half
formed and helped her construct her thoughts and argument. The
speaker concluded by saying, "I learned from that what it meant
to be a great teacher, and I'm sure she did too."
     A number of people in the audience were senior faculty
members at universities across the country. Several spoke of Dr.
tenBroek's impact on their own teaching. Frank Winston mentioned
that Dr. tenBroek's students were required to say their own names
when they were seeking recognition. Since Dr. tenBroek was blind,
this seemed a reasonable accommodation. But Winston makes the
same demand on his students today because he has found that it
encourages oral participation much more effectively than hand-
raising does. 
     Dr. Stanley Lyman, a professor of sociology at the
University of Southern Florida, told with much gusto the story of
his first teaching job. He was twenty-two and a new graduate of
the University of California at Berkeley. He had never studied
with Professor tenBroek, but he was told by another member of the
Speech faculty to go see tenBroek because he was prepared to
offer Lyman a job as a lecturer in the Speech Department. He was
very nervous during the interview and hesitantly asked what text
book he would be expected to use in teaching Speech 1A and 1B.
Dr. tenBroek tossed him a mimeographed booklet and said, "Use
this." It was a collection of Supreme Court cases: Yick Wo v.
Hopkins, Buck v. Bell, Korematsu v. the United States, and
others. 
     Dr. Lyman said, "Dr. tenBroek, I've never even had a course
in Constitutional Law. My B.A. is in sociology." 
     And Dr. tenBroek said, "Lyman, can you read?" 
     "Yes, sir," Lyman said.
     "Good," Dr. tenBroek said. "I'm pleased to learn that. You
take this book of cases home, and you read them. Next week you'll
start teaching, and five weeks from now I'll come sit in your
class, and if you're no good, I'll fire you. Have we got a deal?"
     Dr. Lyman went home and spent a difficult weekend poring
over the book, but Monday morning he began teaching. Five weeks
later, to the day, Dr. tenBroek was there, sitting in the rear of
the classroom. Lyman said, "I knew there was one rule: there was
to be no lecturing in Speech 1A. The professor was to conduct a
Socratic dialogue.... You were to get the answer out of the
students. I was pouring sweat and asking questions."
     At the end of the class Dr. tenBroek suggested that they
walk back to his office together. As they were walking, Dr.
tenBroek said, "Well you're all right, Lyman. You've got just one
problem: you are standing too close to the front seats in the
room." Lyman was astounded that Dr. tenBroek knew where he had
been standing. Dr. tenBroek then explained that he had noticed
that he was getting good discussion in response to his questions
but only from the people in the front half of the room. He
himself had had some difficulty hearing what Lyman was saying, so
he concluded that he had been standing close to the front desks.
He suggested that from then on Lyman stand with his back against
the blackboard so that he would remember to throw his voice to
the rear of the room. 
     One speaker said that Dr. tenBroek did more than use the
Socratic method to teach his students that they could employ
their intellects to explore both sides of a question. To them he
was almost the embodiment of Socrates. The attorney who made this
point most clearly went on to tell a story about a classmate of
his who was always the first to shout out his own name for
recognition. One day, when Dr. tenBroek had called on the young
man, he said with great conviction, "Well, Dr. tenBroek, the
answer to that question would require a value judgment." 
     After a brief silence Dr. tenBroek answered, "Phillips,
don't you know that the most important judgments you will make in
life are value judgments?" The speaker went on: "There was
absolute silence in the room. It was the first time that Dr.
tenBroek had told us that the content of our lives and of our
decisions and of what we really thought was actually more
important than the argumentation we were learning in his class.
It's true, lawyers argue both sides, but the most important thing
that a lawyer can do is to make his or her own value judgments.
This was one of Dr. tenBroek's legacies, and I wanted to pass it
on this evening." 
     One member of the audience had brought his wife and his son.
Like seven other offspring of tenBroek students, the boy was
named Jacobus tenBroek. After paying tribute to his former
teacher as the man who had taught him to think and who had first
persuaded him that there are more important things in life than
having fun, he related the following recollection: "People have
mentioned his academic prowess, but he was also an incredible
advocate. I remember sitting in the hallway in Wheeler Auditorium
when the December resolutions were being discussed in support of
the Free Speech Movement [at Berkeley in the early sixties]. We
[the students] couldn't go inside the Academic Senate, but we
could sit on the outside and listen to that debate. Lo and
behold, our beloved Professor tenBroek was leading the floor
debates on behalf of the resolution that would have supported the
students. We saw him in a much different role, not talking
academically about the importance of the First Amendment, but in
life, on the floor, as an advocate conducting that debate. The
man was absolutely awesome. I would never want to face an
advocate like Professor tenBroek in a court room. I doubt if any
of us could go toe to toe with him. He wasn't just an academic in
the academic setup; he was also on the street with the students.
     "One of the lasting impressions I have of him is--certainly
that great demeanor he had and how erect he was--standing on the
corner of Telegraph and Bancroft after all the kids had been
arrested in the Free Speech Movement. He was about to go down to
Berkeley Municipal Court to make an argument that all the charges
should be dismissed in the interest of justice. He stood there, a
very tall man on a little riser, making his argument about why it
was unjust and in conflict with the First Amendment to proceed
with those prosecutions. I learned a lot from him about the First
Amendment, that it wasn't just a sterile document; it was
something to be lived and fought for among professors and on the
streets of the country. The other thing I learned from him was
how important the Fourteenth Amendment was, and the true meaning
of the Fourteenth Amendment. I have since become a civil rights
attorney, and I feel that in a small way my life is dedicated to
what I learned from him about the importance of equality in the
Constitution and how hard it is to obtain that equality. The
lessons all derive from Jacobus tenBroek.... I learned a lot of
lessons from him, and my life would not be what it has been
without having had the wonderful opportunity to meet this truly
incredible man." 
     A woman who had been Dr. tenBroek's student in a
constitutional law class during the early forties recalled the
time when she saw his passion break through his professorial
calm. The class was discussing welfare, and the students were
"spouting our own attitudes which we had picked up from the
popular press." She noticed that Dr. tenBroek's face was growing
redder and redder until he finally exploded, "Poverty is not a
crime!" 
     She went on, "That burned into my mind; I have never
forgotten it, and I think that more than anything else it has
helped to guide my life." 
     An attorney with a particularly distinguished legal career
stood to make a confession of what he had learned from Dr.
tenBroek about ethics. In 1962, while he was in law school, he
received a call from Dr. tenBroek offering him a job as reader.
The preceding day another professor had also offered him a job as
a course reader. The student told Dr. tenBroek that he had to
call the other man "because we had kind of a tentative agreement.
I need to talk to him, and then I'll get back to you." Dr.
tenBroek inquired what he meant by using the word "tentative."
The student stammered that he was sure that the other professor
would understand. 
     Dr. tenBroek said with great firmness, "Well I understand.
You're in law school now?"
     "Yes."
     "Do you know what an offer is?" 
     "Yes."
     "Well it's withdrawn." 
     One man invited the audience to remember their dismay upon
being told that speeches in tenBroek classes could be no longer
than five minutes. When the students protested about the
limitation, Dr. tenBroek's response was, "There is no subject on
Earth about which any of you knows enough to speak for more than
five minutes." 
     The final speaker of the evening was Fred Korematsu, whose
case (Korematsu v. the United States) went to the Supreme Court
in 1944. He had resisted the internment of Japanese Americans
during the Second World War, but he lost the case. In 1954 Dr.
tenBroek wrote a book, Prejudice, War, and the Constitution,
which argued powerfully that the First Amendment rights of
Japanese Americans had been trampled by the mass internment and
that the decision of the Supreme Court had been in error. As
everyone now knows, the case was retried several years ago, and
this time Fred Korematsu won. Everyone who referred to this case
during the testimonial dinner acknowledged what is commonly
recognized in legal circles: that Dr. tenBroek's book had
irrevocably altered the way in which the legal world views
Korematsu v. the United States and was the direct cause of the
reversal in the Supreme Court's decision. 
     So the evening ended. It would be well for all of us to
recognize the importance of what Dr. tenBroek's former students
have taught us. The founder of the National Federation of the
Blind made contributions to the world far beyond his work in the
organized blind movement. His influence is still being felt as a
force in legal thought today. His students recollect and pass on
the principles and habits of thought that he taught them, just as
we do, and his wisdom, integrity, and clarity of vision will
continue to change the world in the coming century, not only in
the field of work with the blind, but in the entire sweep of
American society. 
     But perhaps the most fitting way to conclude this tribute to
Jacobus tenBroek is to quote a poem written by his granddaughter
Kelly after she visited her two grandmothers last year and read
at the dinner by her father Dutch tenBroek. The family went to
the cemetery in which Dr. tenBroek is buried, and this is the
poem she wrote. It expresses a sentiment that is true for all of
us: 

His grave was amongst the many, 
And I had to help search for it. 
There it was, looking out across the valley,
     the bay, and the trees. 
I could feel the wind rushing through my hair
As I looked at the overwhelming sight. 
There he has rested for twenty-four years. 
As I looked at the worn-away Braille,
The tears came flowing into my eyes and would not stop, 
For this man I've never known was a large part of my life. 
He is more a part of me than I have ever known. 

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