There is an age-old question, one skirting both science and perception, which asks whether a tree falling in a forest makes a sound if there is no one around to hear it.
Though countless individuals through the ages have unsuccessfully grappled with this scenario, for me, the answer to this question has recently become very clear. If that tree was a world-renowned civil rights attorney and famed Harvard Law professor named Charles, then the answer is a resounding and definitive yes.
Tree’s impact beyond the university was as sizable, representing celebrity clients like Tupac Shakur and Anita Hill, using his national media platform to advance issues of law and social justice, authoring numerous books on race and society, and mentoring countless students, lawyers, political figures, and social justice warriors within and beyond the law school.
The personal part speaks more of his impact on my family, my friends and me. Tree was my professor when I entered law school in the 1990s. I worked with him and Professor Derrick Bell as a spokesperson for the movement to get a tenured Black female professor here at Harvard, which ultimately resulted in the hiring of the late Lani Guinier. Tree, along with Bell and Guinier, poured their knowledge, wisdom, and insight into me, and I drank up everything they offered.
I was the youngest member of the four-person team on the first Harvard Law School trial team that Tree created. We won.
Tree taught me about law, legal ethics, social justice, and fairness. He joked that I would never be rich because my heart, passion and compassion were too deep to ever stop serving the people.
Along with my then-boyfriend and now-husband, Harvard Law professor Ron Sullivan, we babysat Tree’s children while in law school. He became the godfather of ours.
Tree continued to guide me, even insisting that I work abroad in Kenya for a year after graduating from law school. He told me that Ron would come with me, or I could leave him behind.
Later, as I established myself in my own career, Tree became my colleague and associate in many ways. Still, throughout our professional relationship and our friendship, he was always the teacher, and I, the student.
He and his amazing wife, Pam, taught me how to live in an active and fierce way while modeling how Ron and I could be true life partners. We watched and learned from them as we vacationed at Martha’s Vineyard, chatted in their home, or watched their children.
Tree was the biggest advocate for Ron and me, becoming the first Black masters/faculty deans in the school’s history at Harvard University. Tree always called us his students regardless of what we went on to accomplish in life, be it Ron and I, or the ultimate power couple, former president and first lady Barack and Michelle Obama.
Later, particularly for those who knew him well, it was difficult when he started acting erratically, prior to his Alzheimer’s diagnosis. Ultimately, this terrible disease stole everything. Once he retired and left Massachusetts, he sometimes remembered us, but then did not.
But we, undoubtedly, will always remember Tree. For there is truly no earthly forest big enough to quiet such an impact.
Stephanie Robinson is a lecturer on law at Harvard Law School where she teaches on issues of democracy, media, and race. Tis commentary was originally published by The Grio.
