Portfolio at NYU

Posted 03.30.03
John Walsh: the Streetwise Judge

By Caroline Binham

Go past the security checks, the bustling corridors of the criminal court at 100, Centre St., full of strutting police officers, lawyers talking into cell phones, white-shirted court officers, anxious parents, weeping girlfriends and groups of young men slouched up against the wall, and you will eventually arrive at the office of Judge John P. Walsh, the supervising arraignment judge for New York City. There, mahogany shelves are loaded down with law book upon law book. Classical music gently wafts through the air. On the desk, by a pile of documents, there is a coffee mug with a likeness of Botticelli's "Birth of Venus" on it. A biography of Arthur Miller has found its way onto the bookshelf behind the desk, framed by the Stars and Stripes and the orange, white, and blue flag of New York. Not bad for an ex-cop born in the Upper West Side to Irish parents 59 years ago.

Judge Walsh is far more than a cliche of a "poor guy made good." "He's a great teacher and philosopher and a very creative guy," said Michael Julian, a friend of Judge Walsh's who worked with him when they both served in the New York Police Department. Walsh, who started on the notoriously conservative Tactical Patrol Force in the '60s, went to law school and finished up in the Department as an inspector in Internal Affairs. Walsh's most recent achievement has been in his role as overseeing the arraignment process at criminal court; making sure that it is as efficient as possible. Walsh has been largely credited with reducing the arrest-to-arraignment time of suspects - from the time that they are arrested to the time they are brought before a judge and either released or held pending bail - to the 24 hours deemed "reasonable." Walsh has been in his present role since 1996. He shrugs off any accolade: "It was just a question of improving management. We made sure the judges showed up on time, then we went to the police. Most problems in government are fixable if you get people to work together."

"Unique" is a word that many of his colleagues and friends apply to Judge Walsh. This might seem a trite platitude, but for a man surrounded by such paradox as Walsh, while retaining the air of a simple man, unique seems the only apt epithet. He is unique in his career path: there are no other judges in New York that were first policemen, let alone police inspectors, a path that he feels has stood him in good stead. It was not always so, and it was this uniqueness that many had to contend with during his transition from police officer to judge. "Their combined age was about 2000 years," jokes Walsh, his permanent grin widening, referring to the judicial committee with which he had to interview before becoming a judge, "They just couldn't work out how I could be an inspector and a lawyer. So they gave up and sent me to the next committee. There, I was interviewed by 30 defense lawyers and they beat the hell out of me, asking how I'd be fair. So at the end of the interview, I thanked them and told them I realized their concerns but that I thought these concerns stemmed from stereotypes. I told them that they should do something about their stereotypes. Nice punch, don't you think?" He laughs and leans back in his chair, his pinstripe shirt stretching to accommodate a robust frame. With his white hair, beady eyes and avuncular manner, Walsh dismisses preconceptions of stuffy, old judges.

It is this challenge of authority and of other's stereotypes, despite the fact that for many, he embodies "authority," that has defined his career. "His parents were very anti-government so it's funny that he's ended up a judge," said Elliot Cook, principal court attorney and self-described "Chief of Staff" to Judge Walsh. "But he is still anti-government. He's incensed about John Ashcroft's recent suggestions about military tribunals."

When qualifying "unique," each colleague refers to Walsh's time in the N.Y.P.D. "He's been a high-ranking cop so he understands about things, rather than just as a judge or lawyer," said David Bookstaver, director of communications at the criminal court, "It's refreshing." A new perspective is something Walsh thinks he possesses: "My years on the street really helped me. I can sit on the bench and look at the prisoners and guess the crime they're accused of. But more importantly, it gave me a sense of how humans get into awful situations. Crime is a small piece of an overall lost life. It's hard to get perspective but you need it when you're sentencing: you can't lock everyone up."

"He's great. I couldn't ask for a better boss," says Court Officer Mark Vobis, Walsh's personal assistant, "Him being an officer and me being an officer, he understands what I'm thinking. Most judges having a long education don't understand the blue-collar aspect. Not many judges would take an interest in us. But he asks how we are, what we did at the weekend."

Walsh's approachable demeanor has endeared him to a loyal group of colleagues over the years. It seems that his willingness to be "one of the boys" is just one of the many ways that this loyalty is forged. "When he approached me about becoming his court attorney in '96, I was working as the supervising attorney for Legal Aid. He asked me to come for a drink and a discussion," says Cook, a nostalgic smile sweeping across his aquiline features, "We both got a little bummed that night. We got on right away; we were in sync from the moment we sat down." Yet even this facet of Walsh's is full of contradictions. Asked if he frequented Forlini's, a favorite hang-out for judges and district attorneys on Baxter Street, Walsh said: "I don't really go there. When I was in the P.D., I made it a policy not to associate too much with everyone after work." It seems, though, that Walsh is a well-known figure even at that Italian restaurant. Amid the heavy wood, smoky interior, Joe Forlini, the affable owner who is everyone's best friend, says: "Judge Walsh? The big guy with the white hair? I know him. He comes in from time to time with his wife. They're both sweethearts."

The fact that Walsh remarried another judge last February - Cook, who still calls Walsh "Judge" rather than by his first name, was his best man - belies the fact that at least some after-hours association with colleagues has occurred. "We never run out of things to say!" he jokes, yet there is a seriousness behind his comment. Walsh suffered a common plight of the police: a negative impact on his first marriage. "I got divorced because of the P.D.," he admits, "Relationships aren't static. You have to work at them. If you don't, you grow apart. That's what happened. The P.D. is fascinating work but the only people you can talk about it to is other cops." Even Walsh has his fair share of regrets about his time in the police: "I maybe worked a little too hard when I should have been with my wife, with my kids. I feel like I should have been with them more, that I lost a little bit of my kids," he sighs, referring to his two sons and a daughter. His oldest son followed his father's footsteps into the law profession and works in Florida at the State Attorney General's office, representing migrant workers. "He's the left-wing of the family!" says Walsh. The other son is in construction and his daughter just graduated from Rhode Island School of Design.

Walsh, although not following his own father's footsteps, joined the Police Department as a direct result of his father: "I did a Liberal Arts degree at Manhattan College but I wasn't ready for college and dropped out. My Dad owned a grocery store and my mother rented out our brownstone house on the Upper West Side for what was called "rooming." One day, there was a burglar and he shot my father. He wasn't killed but he was out of commission for a while, so I had to help out. I'd taken the police test and the job came up. I never intended it to be permanent."

He started out in the Tactical Patrol Force. It was the mid-sixties. Anti-Vietnam demonstrations were rife in downtown Manhattan, demonstrations that the Tactical Patrol Force had to stifle. Walsh, 21 years old, barely out of college, found himself pitted against other student demonstrators. Asked how he coped with what could have been a major crisis of conscience, he said, matter-of-factly: "I had to deal with being called "Pig" and stuff. I was immature when I went into the job. The cops that were there were vets from Korea. They were our role models. I matured so much in one year. When I went back to college, other students and I were on two different planets. It was just a question of maturity."

Walsh continued to confront his peers throughout his career, even those peers within the New York Police Department. After graduating from New York Law School and a spell as a lieutenant, Walsh found himself in Internal Affairs in the N.Y.P.D. As to how he felt walking a thin diplomatic line in what is a notorious old boys' network, Walsh said: "It bothered me in the beginning, being a prosecutor within the P.D. One person threatened my wife and it got personal. I really connected with people in one case and just saw them as stupid, not venal. And I had to be the avenging angel and get rid of them." Michael Julian, a friend and ex-colleague of Walsh in the Mid-Town South Precinct, now the manager of Madison Square Gardens, said: "There was the 77th Precinct scandal, involving cops that took seized drugs and sold them on. There was insufficient evidence to arrest but enough to prosecute them administratively. People were behind him [Walsh]. Those cops were corrupt; no one wanted them there. Some of the tactics he used to get rid of them are employed now in cases of corruption."

This is not to say that Walsh's time in the police was purely office-bound. Recalling his days in the 32nd Precinct in Harlem - then one of the roughest places in New York - he said: "There was this one time I was chasing a burglar on a roof. I could see him leaping from rooftop to rooftop, so I just had to go follow him. Well, this one rooftop, I didn't see him anymore and just thought he'd carried on. So I leaped, but I fell down the gully. Luckily, my coat got caught on a stairwell, so I was left just hanging there!"

The excitement of hot pursuit seems a world away from the environment Walsh now inhabits. "As an inspector, I was the youngest there. But I was the oldest, in a way. There was nothing there for me. But I could never duplicate the relationships I had in the N.Y.P.D. And you really can't duplicate the work; it's so exciting." Elliot Cook perceives Walsh's nostalgia. He said: "At heart, he's still a cop. I think of all jobs, police commissioner is the one he covets the most. He'd return to the P.D. in a flash." Cook's prophecy may yet ring true. Walsh, aged 59, has begun to show signs of restlessness in his present role. "When you hit these milestones in life, it makes you reflect. I'm suddenly going to be sixty. I left the P.D. in part because if you're over 50, you'll never leave and they know it. You're trapped. And to be honest, it's getting like that now. I'll move on soon, I think. I just feel that I should do something else." Walsh did not mention returning to the police department. He suggested a novel next step: "I really don't know what I'd do. Maybe something in the arts, or therapy of some kind." This may not be as off-beat as it sounds for the man who lists opera - Verdi in particular - as one of his interests, in addition to his love of food - Indian and Italian cuisine for preference - and drink. Quite the epicurean, Walsh even cooks. "He's very funny, bashful, a partier," says Elliot Cook, "He likes to go out to eat and drink."

Despite the praise heaped upon him by both friends and co-workers, there are times when the Judge's calm demeanor can be ruffled. "He doesn't forget," says Cook, ominously, "And he will eventually get even, especially if he feels he's been crossed. For example, he's been very generous to the Legal Aid Society, mainly due to my connections there. I got him to talk to them, go to their meetings. He was the first judge ever to do that. But they crossed him, they didn't come through for him and he will never forgive them for it."

The tension between Walsh and the Legal Aid Society is not obvious. Despite the alleged feud, Stephen Pokart, a Legal Aid lawyer described him as "the best judge I've seen on the bench in criminal court in 21 years." Walsh does not adjudicate much anymore, but of the time when he did sit in court, Pokart said: "He was fair. I would stress that is far from typical for a judge. Most people think that defense lawyers want some bleeding-heart liberal on the bench. Really, we want someone who is fair and understands people. He fits the bill perfectly. He has compassion and is humane. He is not a lackey of Mr. Morgenthau's," he says, referring to the district attorney of Manhattan. Pokart does disagree, however, that credit for reducing arrest-to-arraignment time should go purely to Walsh: "Legal Aid had a lawsuit when it took people two to three days to get arraigned. It went to federal court, as it was unconstitutional. Whether it was Walsh who started to sort it out, I don't know. But the original impetus was not from a judge, it was from Legal Aid."

"I think I do have the qualities of a good judge," says Walsh, having pondered for a while, "I get feedback that I do. For me, this is the easiest job. You need compassion and to listen and to keep your mouth shut. The law is the easiest bit; you can just look it up. Law has very little to do with anything in this building." With that, he prepares himself for his next guise: teaching the law - as insignificant as it may be - to police officers who are training to be sergeants. He's even written the book.