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Archive for October, 2012

October 17, 2011

Ms. Audrey Coyne
129 York Street
Apt. 5F
New Haven, Connecticut 06511

Dear Audrey:

I am writing in confirmation of our understanding that I have offered, and you have accepted, a clerkship in my chambers for the 2012-2013 judicial year. I am delighted to have you on board, and I look forward to working together.

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“But what if you don’t get the clerkship with Judge Gottlieb?” I asked Jeremy. “You’d rather clerk with Judge Barzun than not clerk at all….”

“So the interview ends because Barzun has to go to a dinner party with her husband,” said Jeremy. “She tells me she’ll walk out with me. One of her clerks comes downstairs with us too — Craig Silver, a Yalie, graduated two years ago — do you know him?”

“No, although everyone says he was a great managing editor on the Journal.”

“Anyway, we all go outside. We’re at the corner of Seventh and Mission — totally sketch neighborhood, by the way, as you’ll see when you go up to S.F. for hearings with Stinson. We’re there maybe a minute or two, and then this huge black Mercedes S-class pulls up right in front of us….”

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Through the glass storefront, I spotted Jeremy. He saw me too, grinned, and waved like a beauty queen on speed. Phew: he was clearly very happy with how his clerkship search had turned out.

Jeremy blew into Willoughby’s, pecked me on the cheek, dropped off his bag at the table (was that a new Jack Spade?), and went up to the counter to order a drink. I fiddled with my phone as I waited for him, texting my mother to say that I’d call her tonight to let her know how my L.A. trip went.

“So,” said Jeremy, sitting down with his large soy latte, “tell me everything, Miss Audrey. I want to hear every last delicious detail.”

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After the interview, the rest of the day passed in a blur. I met briefly with Judge Stinson’s current clerks, just to say hello and to introduce myself to them as one of their successors. The Stinson clerks seemed friendly and enthusiastic about their jobs, and as is often the case with clerks to the same judge, I had several connections in common with them.

One of the current clerks, Michael Nomellini, also graduated from Harvard College and Yale Law School (where he served as president of the Federalist Society, a group of conservative and libertarian law students). Another clerk, Janet Lee, was an Asian-American woman from New York City who graduated from Stuyvesant, my high school alma mater. Even though I hadn’t met Michael or Janet before, we played the “name game” and quickly discovered we had several mutual friends. Both Michael and Janet gave me their email addresses and phone numbers and told me to contact them with any questions that might come up before the start of my clerkship.

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“Excuse me, Your Honor,” I said before the judge could respond, modulating my voice. “I meant no disrespect. I was just, well, I was thinking, you have such an amazing….”

“Oh Audrey,” Judge Stinson said, shaking her head and sighing. “There is always somewhere else to go. Always.”

She paused, touching a bejeweled finger to her perfect chin, and looked off into space for a few moments. Then her gaze returned to me.

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