Bruce Wright
From Philosopedia
Wright, Bruce (McMarion) [Judge] (28 September 1918– 24 March 2005)
An outspoken critic of racism in the U.S. criminal justice and political system, Wright was a New York Supreme Court justice (1982-1994).
He wrote Black Robes, White Justice (1998), about his experiences as a judge. Love Hangs Upon an Empty Door (1999) is a collection of his poems and contains the message, “The law has not civilized America. Poetry might.”
Because of his policy of setting low bail where he deemed it appropriate, he was derisively called “Turn ’Em Loose Bruce” by some journalists.
Son of a West Indian (Montserrat) agnostic father and an Irish Catholic mother, Wright has described his Catholic background and education in Peter Occhiogrosso’s Once A Catholic (1987). In it he relates that when Cardinal Spellman was informed Wright was an intellectual and a poet, the two met and Wright concluded that “Spellman was a lousy poet, by the way - wrote like somebody in the fourth grade.”
Wright came to find that religion and superstition were one and, as a lawyer, he demanded evidence for the existence of a Holy Ghost or God and found none. As for the afterlife, he suggests that at his memorial service the Duke Ellington tune played by Randy Weston be aired: “Do nothing till you hear from me.” As for being an altar boy, he humorously advised kids to be careful because “you know what happens when you renounce sex and take to whiskey and things like that: chasing lads.”
Wright was one of the most outspoken African American humanists of his time. “Whites,” he once stated, “almost have a chemical reaction when they see a black face and assign to that face a place. White judges don’t fraternize with us. What they know about us is what they get from novels, the silver screen, or servants in their own homes.” He admitted to liking radicals, saying, “I have always made fun of well-behaved blacks who I think should be radicals in this country. There’s a lot to be radical about. If we’re going to consider ourselves Americans, we should be able to aspire to anything every other American has. That does not mean keeping your mouth shut.” One of the few good things he has to say about religion is, as he put it, “What’s the black bishop’s name in Harlem? Emerson Moore - he knows how to kiss the proper ass. Where did the pope stop when he came to Harlem? Emerson Moore’s church. . . . ”
Wright has been married five times and is the father of a daughter and five sons, one born when he was in his seventies. On Father’s Day in 1996, Keith told the Daily News in New York City that when six he and his twelve-year-old brother Geoffrey (now an Assemblyman in Harlem) had been five minutes late to meet their father, and he left them. Penniless and stranded on Wall Street, the brothers walked in the snow from lower Manhattan to their home on 138th Street in Harlem. “It took us a long time to get home,” said Keith, 41. “My mother hit the roof when she found out Daddy left us. From that day on, I’ve tried my best to be on time.”
In 1975 the New York Ethical Culture Society gave him their 1975 Humanist Award, of which award he has said “I’m really proudest.” Wright, who in retirement became a visiting professor at Cooper Union, wrote the following poem:
- Some orthodox wear a yarmulke,
- Some Christians sport a cross:
- I wonder who, among all the gods,
- Is absolutely boss.
Wright died in his sleep at his home in Harlem, New York City. His wife, Elizabeth Davidson-Wright, survived.
