From the Editor: Alan is a thirty-year friend of Scott LaBarre. He is also a lawyer who had the pleasure of working with Scott on several cases important to blind people. Here, in large part, is what he said to the gathering:
I should tell you that I often referred to my friend as Scotty, and he referred to me as AO. Usually, he did this musically using those dulcet tones that were uniquely his. Sometimes I would hear him summoning me from across the room singing those letters. This was a part of his wonderful personality that we have all been so blessed to experience. It is what made him unique.
I didn’t know it at the time, but the Saturday before the Saturday that Scott passed away would be the last time I got to talk with him. I was so fortunate to get to visit with him for almost two and a half hours. I tried to remember what mom taught me early about having one mouth and two ears, and for once I had the sense to follow her good advice, and I just listened. Saturdays tended to be his Superman day with his regiment of drugs, so he was boisterous and full of energy, and he was Scotty!
Some of the things I want to share with you tonight are the things he wanted me to share. I grew up with Scott LaBarre in the American Bar Association as did so many of our friends who are here in person and watching virtually. He was like a brother, and we loved him. Whether we were working cases together, brainstorming as co-counsel for example on Aaron Cannon’s case—what a privilege it was to represent Aaron Cannon.
I want to share just one story with you about that. As many of you know, Scott handled the oral argument before the Iowa Supreme Court in that case, a case that you are all very familiar with that has made such a meaningful and lasting difference since the Iowa Supreme Court had the courage to do what it did. The Iowa Supreme Court each year chooses some cases, and I used to call them the roadshow cases, the ones they would take out into the community. The idea was to get out into the community throughout Iowa so that it can see firsthand how the justice system works as evidenced by its highest court. Our case was chosen for that, and we were down in Southeast Iowa in an unusually large auditorium at a junior high school. One of the neat aspects of these roadshows was that, after the oral arguments, which were just as real as if they had been held where they are normally held, the idea was to get together in the cafeteria in this instance for punch and cookies and to really turn it into a more informal event. This would let the community meet the Court and get to visit with them and ask questions of them.
But it will come as no surprise to any of you that, after Scott delivered an extraordinary oral argument to the Iowa Supreme Court, there was a break as we transitioned to the cafeteria. What do you suppose happened? Normally folks start lining up to meet the justices of the Iowa Supreme Court, but on this cold evening, the Iowa Supreme Court lined up to meet Scotty. And then, when they got done meeting Scotty, all the folks that normally line up to meet the Iowa Supreme Court justices lined up—to meet Scotty! It was extraordinary.
Many of you know the nature of that case. It was a case about Aaron, who had been invited to join a chiropractic school and then about halfway through was told that they couldn’t accommodate the rest of his education because it was more clinical. I only share that because, after an inordinate amount of time in that cafeteria, where people poured over the extraordinary person who was Scott Charles LaBarre, we were among the last folks to walk out of that junior high school long after most folks who came to watch and learn about our justice system had exited. But I will never forget that when I opened that door and we began to exit, there were all of those people waiting for Scotty to come out so they could clap for him and for his cause. I’ll never forget the first voice I heard when I emerged from those doors and what he said: “I hope you kick their ass.”
But whether we were working on cases, snowmobiling together on different snowmobiles through the national forest, whether we were being certified together at the Land Rover driving school (and yes, Anahit has the proof—that Scotty is a certified driver), or more recently celebrating Scotty’s fiftieth birthday together at a U2 concert in Madison Square Garden, here is what I know about my friend whom I loved and I miss. Scott LaBarre may have lost his eyesight at age ten, but oh did he have vision: a vision for his family, a vision for his friends and clients, a vision for his legal profession and community, and a vision for a movement that is now international in scope. Through his vision, Scott touched each of us in a unique and most special way. But, because of Scott’s vision, we all can see more clearly. We can see how our vision is the justification for our existence. We can see how we can better navigate the challenges of the realities of this side of heaven, and we can see how our own leadership is about making others better through our example so that the impact of our presence transcends our absence. How? Just like he did. Start where you are, use what you have, do what you can! And if we do as Scott did, the meaningful lasting and positive difference in the real lives of people we’ll make will be seen by others. What Scott understood was that what others see depends on what we show them. May Scott’s vision and his goodness continue to inspire our own so that the positive impact we make is seen far and wide and throughout time.