A Heroine Amongst Us
My Mom Reminisces About Sarah Weddington, Attorney for “Jane Roe”
Photo/Unsplash
When I was young, my mom stayed home with me in our modest house in Woodbridge, VA. My dad made the trek over the Woodrow Wilson bridge into D.C. each day to work at Image, Inc., a photo lab where many of President Johnson’s communications staff had moved onto after his presidency ended. Pop worked each day with high profile clients and tight deadlines.
Mom and I filled our days with mudpies, swingsets, and bike rides. Our daily routine was limited to activities within walking distance from our house because we had only one car. My childhood was safe and fun, a cocoon of local projects that wrapped me in sheltered and guarded warmth.
It was a different time, a simpler time.
The suburbs of Washington, D.C. in the 1970s, were, quite simply, a wonderful place to grow up.
When I was seven, my mom decided to re-enter the workforce as a full-time employee. I was in second grade then. Mom was a damn fine wordsmith, typist and administrative assistant in her own right, and she needed to put her skills to good use.
She went back to work for the United States Department of Agriculture in the Office of the General Counsel in D.C. At that time, the General Counsel was a woman, the first ever female G.C. for the USDA.
And Sarah Weddington was my mom’s “big” boss.
Full disclosure: When my mom told me this story, I had never heard of Sarah Weddington.
The year was 1977, four years after Roe v. Wade. Social media didn’t exist. Information wasn’t available with a simple keystroke. Heroes and heroines often lived and worked among us in relative anonymity. My mom discovered years later that her boss was an original pioneer for women’s rights.
Sarah Weddington was the attorney for “Jane Roe.” Before moving into her role as General Counsel, she had worked for years as a champion for reproductive health rights in Texas, with her fight culminating in an argument before the Supreme Court.
Photo/Unsplash
Sarah Weddington was my mom’s third level supervisor. Under ordinary circumstances, my mom (and most of her colleagues) would have had limited, if any, contact with her.
My parents had grown weary of making the drive into D.C. from the suburbs. They had previously visited friends in Atlanta and decided to trade the traffic and inflated cost of living in D.C. for more affordable housing and living in the South.
In order to do so, my mom needed the approval of her supervisor, Sarah Weddington.
Fortunately, the USDA General Counsel’s office had a field office in Atlanta with an opening that my mom was qualified for. She asked for a transfer so that at least one of my parents would be gainfully employed once they moved. Before the transfer could be approved, Sarah had to interview my mom.
She called my mom into her office and asked her some general questions about the transfer. Then, surprisingly, she asked my mom why the office was so dysfunctional. My mom told her that the office manager was a bit of a “control freak” who wouldn’t sign off on attorneys’ expense forms in a timely manner. Back in those days, there were no government credit cards. Employees paid up front and waited to reimbursed. No wonder the work environment was so poor!
Ms. Weddington approved her transfer, and we headed South.
My mom only remembers meeting her that one time although she had seen her in the office before. She said that Sarah was very nice to her, but she was still a little scared of her because she was “pretty big business.”
My parents lived a great life in D.C. in the 1970s. My dad worked for President Johnson, and my mom took care of me and then worked for Sarah Weddington.
They were a big deal, my parents, both heroes in their private and public domains. Now, it’s my duty to record these stories and leave them as a legacy for my daughter so she can carry their amazing life stories and memories with her.
Finally, I have to say, I’m sure Sarah Weddington is rolling over in her grave today. Forty-nine years later and all of her hard work has been undone. It’s a travesty. She devoted the better part of her life to legal protection of reproductive rights and walked among her employees as an undercover heroine. May we fight to overturn the ruling and make her proud.
