Remembering Fred Bosselman

All of Fred’s many friends will have to find our own way to ease the pain of Fred’s death. Please indulge me as I try to put into words the lasting gifts that Fred gave me for almost 25 years. Fred was a colleague, a mentor, and friend. During that time, he taught me a great deal, and he and Kay gave my wife and me many hours of enjoyable and enriching company. Of course, it is impossible to talk about Fred without talking about Kay. She grounded him, gave him wonderful and stimulating companionship, and allowed him to roam the world. I know that he fully appreciated the burdens and joys of having a wife. Personally, it is a good thing that Kay remained the love of his life, or my wife might have tried to grab him. However, on this occasion, I will primarily talk about what Fred gave me professionally.

During my career, I have been fortunate to have three mentors. Two were law school professors, and the third was Fred. They all shared two characteristics, but Fred had two additional special ones. Since Fred described himself as a lapsed Unitarian, fortunately I am not locked into the Trinity which would limit me to only three points about him.

First, all three men were wickedly smart and had beautiful, restless minds. Equally, they possessed great energy and drive and had brilliant insights. Second, their brilliance led to a very effective way of teaching, although I don’t think any of them realized the extent of what they were doing. Fred was, I think, the master of this technique. After I met him, I soon realized that no matter what the topic was, he was better read, more up-to-date on the law and literature, and at least three steps ahead in his thinking than I was. As a result, I tried to work on an issue as best I could before I discussed it with Fred in order to have some chance of not making a complete fool of myself when he gently pointed out the flaws in my analysis and research.

The word “gently” is used deliberately because it describes the third and distinctive characteristic of Fred. His approach to both people and issues was infused with a unique, deep, gentle humanity. He was open-minded, balanced, and always looked for the positive in his assessments of both people and issues. He had firm opinions, but I don’t think that there was a mean or nasty bone in his body.

This is not to say that he suffered incompetence or bad behavior. In the late 1990s, Fred and I were working on a big project for the state of California, and our secretary took a dislike to both of us and basically refused to do any work. Fred “tasked” me with dismissing her. I went to the law school administrator and was told that, since the university’s human resources rules were like the Indian Civil Service, we could only start to document her incompetence. When I reported this to Fred, he nicely told me that I had failed and that he would handle the situation. All I know is that when I came to work the next Monday, the secretary had been banished to another floor and a competent one transferred to us.

The last and most important gift that Fred gave me was the example of a scholar-practitioner. When Fred joined the Chicago-Kent faculty in 1991—thank you Stuart Deutsch—he was already accepted as a fellow academic in the land use and environmental fields due to his extensive scholarship and reputation for innovation. I was privileged to work with him on an issue that ultimately reached the Supreme Court—the outcome of which of course he accurately predicted from the beginning—on the creation of some large endangered species habitat reserves in California.

During the second Clinton administration, the Endangered Species Act was under attack from Newt Gingrich and friends, and Secretary of the Interior Bruce Babbitt managed to blunt the attack by creating large reserves to give species a fighting chance. The strategy was at times opposed by both environmental groups and development interests. Fred used his vast knowledge of the law and awesome (which I use in its true rather than in its contemporary meaning) ability to synthesize vast areas of scientific literature to help his client, the state of California, realize its objectives in a way that minimized the risks of adverse litigation. He was a master at pointing out what the legal constraints were and how they could legally be avoided. When a legal envelope could be pushed, he did so but never shredded the envelope. Today, the reserve is functioning and the primary bird it was designed to protect is still around. He was the personification of professionalism and integrity.

Now Fred did have a few faults that I should mention; he was not a dog person and had an insufficient appreciation of German opera, but that’s the extent of my list. So in addition to all the wonderful personal and professional memories, what Fred has left me is a gentle but firm inner voice, saying, “Do some more reading and research, think a little harder about that conclusion, and take another run at that draft before you dare show it to me.”