Ex-chief justice made strong friends, equally strong enemies

To his friends, E.M. "Al" Gunderson is an almost mythical American character come to life, a pugnacious courthouse colossus who, as chief justice of the state Supreme Court, never ducked a donnybrook and meted out Nevada-style justice honorably and with either fist.

To the rest, Gunderson is a bully and manipulator nonpareil who spent as much time gaming Nevada's legal system as he did in honest toil.

Today, as he lies in a local hospital following a devastating stroke this past month, the 80-year-old Gunderson is neither giant nor menace. As with all complex characters, the truth of Gunderson's life and legal career falls somewhere between the two extremes.

Gunderson's chambers at the Supreme Court, where he served from 1971 to 1989, three terms as chief justice, was decorated not only with the usual framed legal degrees and awards, but also with a copy of his high school G.E.D. He had come a long way from poverty and ignorance in Minnesota and was proud of the rocky journey.

"He was really the Everyman," says attorney Bill Curran, who began his legal career by clerking for Gunderson. "He came from the wrong side of the tracks. He not only didn't finish high school, he didn't finish several high schools. He was very proud of having served his country as a paratrooper."

Gunderson dealt cards downtown in the 1950s, then decided to go to law school.

After graduating from Creighton University, he returned to practice.

But he never stopped relating to working people. Even as chief justice he was as comfortable with cabdrivers and cocktail waitresses as the stiff-collared crowd at the court.

"He was proud of where he came from, proud of what he'd accomplished," attorney Laura Fitzsimmons says.

"He had the common touch, but it was more than that. He was almost zealous in his interest in protecting people who he felt had been shut out from the justice system. He was absolutely gender blind in terms of the people that he hired. He never put on airs. He basically never would suck up to power or privilege. He made a lot of enemies for that completely unbending attitude."

His enemies were legion. From the FBI down to influential members of the Nevada Bar Association, Gunderson collected foes by the bushel and made plenty of enemies among his fellow justices.

His clip file includes reports of being a possible federal grand jury target. His wars with Justices Noel Manoukian, John Mowbray, and Bob Rose were withering, but he seemed to revel in the intrigue and the outrage.

He also participated in some extremely controversial decisions in a career that spanned more than 13,000 cases. Yale law professors questioned his ethics. Statistics kept by his critics pointed to Gunderson playing favorites with his friends. His virtues were extolled by the Las Vegas Sun, his vices scrutinized by the Review-Journal.

For Gunderson, the law was personal. He wasn't shy about wielding his black-robed influence with a state attorney general. He bulled his way onto a judicial selection committee in Washoe County. His friends fared well before him. He discussed cases pending before the high court.

Yet, he helped create the Nevada Judges Foundation, which established training for the state's rural judges.

He was a judicial powerhouse, passionate workhorse on a court traditionally known as bloodless keepers of the status quo.

"He could be a bully, but in his mind he was standing up for people that the people he was going after were persecuting," one longtime friend says. "With all the power he had, he never really used it for personal gain."

In the end, Al Gunderson is neither colossus nor monster, but an old man who has lived a loud and improbable life.

John L. Smith's column appears Sunday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. E-mail him at Smith@reviewjournal.com or call (702) 383-0295. He also blogs at lvrj.com/blogs/smith.