Your piece took me back to my Torts I class at the University of Oklahoma in 1956. When we got to THE CASE, we stayed on it for what seemed like a very long time. One day the professor, Harold Wren (one of the best teachers I ever had at any level), commented that the case had obviously had considerable influence nationwide. He began discussing a Wisconsin case as an example of how courts were following what Cardozo and Andrews had done. I sort of blurted out “Couldn’t have influenced Wisconsin.”

Whereupon Professor Wren had me rise and asked “Why not, Mr. Jones?” I said, “Well, sir, Palsgraf was decided in 1928 and the Wisconsin case you mentioned was in 1924.” He quickly checked his notes, turned and made a large number 1 on the blackboard, turned back and said, “One for you, Mr. Jones.” Thankfully, he did so with a smile!

Seavey was particularly proud of Palsgraf and about 60% of his course was devoted to the case. The Palsgraf proximate cause theory had been first enunciated by Seavey, as Reporter for the ALI Restatement on Torts in the Tentative Draft of that Restatement. But Restatements need judicial backing and at the time the Palsgraf case had not been decided so no backing existed in the Tentative Draft. Then the Palsgraf decision came down citing the Tentative Draft. And so, in the final draft, Seavey cited Palsgraf as authority for the theory. It was a marvelous exercise of lifting yourself by the bootstraps.

One time my class had a party and Seavey was invited. My date at the party was Marciarose (whom I later married), then attending college in Boston. We put her up to the following. She approached Seavey at the party and said, “Professor Seavey, I want to ask you about a story that my father told me which I do not quite understand. My father was a classmate of Justice Cardozo and he once asked the Justice, ‘Why did you decide the Palsgraf case the way you did?’ And my father said that Justice Cardozo replied, ‘The Palsgraf case—the Palsgraf case—which case was that?’”

Whereupon, Seavey turned nearly apoplectic and shouted, “Cardozo did not say that. He did not say that!”

All of us standing around roared, although as I recall, it may have been somewhat of a muted roar. But it did give us a moment of triumph or payback for the hours of Palsgraf boredom.

My grandfather also told me of Oliver Wendell Holmes, age 91, walking down the street with Cardozo. As a woman passed in the wind, Holmes watched her blowing skirt, then turned to Cardozo and said: “Oh Cardozo, to be 70 again.”