On the occasion of the 200th anniversary of Illinois’ statehood, I have been asked to provide a remembrance of an Illinois hero. A hero is a person who is admired or idealized for courage, outstanding achievements, or noble qualities.

My hero is not a distant historical figure that I might admire in the abstract, but someone whose presence as a leader in the legal profession was real and tangible to a young woman lawyer who graduated from law school only fifteen years after she did. I do not have to idealize my hero, Mary Ann McMorrow, because I knew her well and was witness to her achievements and her nobility.

Mary Ann McMorrow was a Chicago girl through and through. She grew up on the northwest side and stayed close to home as she attended college in River Forest and law school at Loyola University. She loved the city, and she loved the State of Illinois, devoting her entire adult life to serving its people.

She was a member of the Sandra Day O’Connor generation—women who overcame barriers to gain admission to law school and who broke glass ceilings every step of the way. Beginning her career as the only woman in her law school graduating class, her career was a series of firsts—the first woman felony prosecutor Cook County, the first woman chair of the Executive Committee of the Appellate Court, and the first woman chief justice of the Illinois Supreme Court. 

As my career developed in central Illinois, I kept an eye on this impressive woman who was making great strides in Chicago. At every step of the way, when I was the first woman in my part of the state to achieve a position, Mary Ann McMorrow had been there a decade before.

When I was appointed to the Illinois Supreme Court in 2001, after a career of always being the “first woman,” I was finally greeted by a female colleague. I recall feeling a sense of great relief that neither of us was any longer an oddity. I was proud to be a member of the court when, in 2002, Justice McMorrow became the first woman to head a branch of state government.

Justice McMorrow received too many awards to list, but I know she was especially proud of the John Paul Stevens Award from the Chicago Bar Association and the Order of Lincoln, the state’s highest honor, which she received in 2007.

On a more personal note, Mary Ann did not suffer fools gladly. I have a strong recollection of an oral argument during her term as chief, when, in a high-profile case, a very prominent attorney repeatedly interrupted her when she was asking questions and addressed her as “judge” instead of “justice.” She deftly asserted herself and maintained the dignity of the court, while steering him back to the subject at hand. She was my model for how to preside when my turn came.

She was not only a wise and thoughtful jurist, she was a gracious and kind human being—with a wicked sense of humor. She once told a story about writing the brief for an appeal to the Illinois Supreme Court early in her career. She expected to argue the case before the court, only to be told at the last minute that a male colleague would make the argument because it just wouldn’t do to have a young woman appear before the court. She paused. Then, after an expressive sigh, she explained that the man who removed her from the case later died, and she went to the funeral “just to make sure he was really dead.” The audience of mostly women burst into laughter, not only because the punch line was unexpected and humorous, but because she hit a nerve.

Mary Ann McMorrow was an inspiration not only to young women in the profession, but to all lawyers who admired her for her wisdom and character. One of the great honors of my life was that I not only served with one of my heroes as a colleague, but I also had the great honor of becoming her friend.