Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s court-packing scheme and the “switch in time that saved nine” have been immortalized in American history. They mark a turning point in the New Deal and American constitutional law. The account of law professor James Simon stands out in its focus on Chief Justice Charles Evans Hughes, the extensive survey of the major cases leading up to the “switch in time,” and its focus on the role of the Supreme Court in thwarting the court-packing scheme.
Simon starts with sketch biographies of Hughes and FDR and begins interweaving their stories as they both enter public life. He then turns his attention to the big battles between the Court and the president, with particular focus on each man.
Hughes reentered as chief justice a Court embroiled in an increasingly contentious philosophical battle. The conservative wing of the Court—justices Butler, McReynolds, Sutherland, and Van Devanter—believed that Congress could only legitimately exercise the powers enumerated in the Constitution and that both Congress and state legislatures were restrained from abrogating individual (including economic) rights by the 5th and 14th Amendments. The progressive wing of the Court—justices Brandeis, Stone, and Cardozo—believed in great deference to legislatures and did not believe the 5th and 14th Amendments protected economic rights. Hughes and Justice Roberts became the swing justices.
Things really heat up 3/5ths of the way through as challenges to New Deal legislation passed during FDR’s famous first 100 days in office begin to trickle up to the Supreme Court. But Simon starts with discussion of a case—Blaisdell—challenging a state statute providing foreclosure relief. Hughes wrote for a 5-4 majority upholding the law. The Court then upheld a NY law fixing the price of milk, notable both because it came only 2 years after the Court struck down a Oklahoma permitting scheme for the ice industry and because it was written by Roberts. Roberts eviscerated the earlier decision by redefining the phrase “affected with a public interest” to “an industry, for adequate reason, is subject to control for a public good.” The Court again addressed federal regulation in a challenge to the NIRA petroleum code. The virtually untrammeled power the bill gave the president over an industry made it an easy case, and the justices voted 8-1 to strike down the provision as an unconstitutional delegation of congressional power.
In Perry, a challenge to a congressional statute invalidating public and private contracts requiring payment of debts in gold presented a more vexing question. On one hand, overturning the law threatened to bankrupt the US. On the other, the federal government was both meddling in people’s private dealings and attempting to renege on its own obligations. The Court—again with Hughes speaking for a 5-member majority—declared that Congress had the constitutional authority to nullify private contracts but not to alter the explicit terms of public contracts. But Hughes decided that to actually enforce the contract would provide “unjust enrichment.” FDR was exultant, but it was not to last.
In another 5-4 decision, with Roberts writing for the majority, the Court struck down the Railroad Retirement Act. Roberts evidently saw the Act as the sort of health and welfare regulation reserved to the states rather than a valid exercise of federal power under the Commerce Clause. In dissent, Hughes accused Roberts of putting his personal policy preferences above good constitutional law. FDR was more annoyed than irate, but the Court released three more rebukes on the same day scolding the president for exceeding his authority in firing FTC commissioner, declaring a change to the bankruptcy code unconstitutional, and gutting the NIRA (Schechter Poultry). All three were unanimous.
The NIRA likely represented the high water mark in American central economic planning, and the Schechters’ attorney suggested that upholding the law would open the door to Congress taking “charge of all human activity.” By the government’s own admission, the NIRA absurdly defined “unfair competition” implicitly as “what the industry considers unfair.” Here was a perfect storm: a terribly designed act from a policy perspective that was also a massive aggrandizement of power by Congress and the President (even Justice Brandeis, solidly in the progressive bloc, privately chastised members of the administration for overreliance on central planning). Hughes’s opinion found fault with the NIRA both as an unconstitutional delegation of power to the president and as exceeding Congress’s constitutional authority under the Commerce Clause. For the latter, he drew a distinction between direct and indirect effects, reviving a defunct constitutional doctrine. FDR angrily denounced it as a “horse-and-buggy definition of interstate commerce.”
FDR’s Second Hundred Days relied noticeably less on central planning than his first, but next before the Court was another key, early piece of New Deal legislation. The Agriculture Adjustment Act spurred an incredible 1,700+ lawsuits, and well over 2,000 people showed up when the issue came before the Court in US v. Butler. Roberts wrote an opinion for a 6-justice majority focusing on what he saw as limitations to the Taxing and Spending Clause. Justice Stone shot back in dissent that the power to spend went necessarily along with the power to tax as a part of the larger power of the purse. He also accused the majority of passing judgment on the wisdom of the legislation as a matter of policy rather than constitutional law.
Butler perhaps represented a breaking point for a Court under enormous pressure. Stone took obvious umbrage at Roberts’s majority opinion and pulled no punches in his dissent. Roberts took offense, but Hughes refused to intervene. Stone’s emotions visibly flared when he read his dissent in open court. The attorney general passed on false gossip that Hughes had been willing to follow Roberts’s vote to avoid another 5-4 decision overturning a law. Stone intimated to Felix Frankfurter he felt Hughes lacked vision and a willingness to trust his “own intellectual processes.” As farm prices dropped in reaction, the justices were hung in effigy and politicians decried the decision as political. FDR hinted at simply ignoring Supreme Court decisions to a cabinet secretary. A very narrow holding crafted by Hughes upholding the TVA did little to tamp down the heat. Members of the administration and New Deal congressman began discussing imposing age limits on the justices. A journalist argued the same by citing an old suggestion along those lines by Hughes himself. The Court again constricted Congress’s power under the Commerce Clause, overturning coal mining regulation under a manufacturing-commerce (as well as direct-indirect) distinction despite 97% of coal being sold across state lines (Hughes wrote a separate opinion agreeing with in part, disagreeing in part, and suggesting the people might want a constitutional amendment to “give Congress the power to regulate industries within the State”). After Hughes wrote a separate opinion in another case, Brandeis observed that Hughes had “no control over the Court.” A decision invalidating a state minimum wage law for women—Morehead v. Tipaldo—was widely condemned.
FDR was easily reelected and the Democrats expanded their majority in Congress. The Court was now under serious threat. Rumors of a court-packing scheme persisted, and a number of proposals to rein in the Court were introduced in Congress. A polemic entitled The Nine Old Men labeled Hughes “the most pathetic figure on the Supreme Court.” Simon suggests Hughes influenced Roberts’s votes in that term with a short visit to his country estate. That may well be the case; it was Roberts’s vote allowed the Court to narrowly uphold NY’s unemployment law. He voted in conference to uphold Washington’s minimum wage law for women in West Coast Hotel Co. v. Parrish, despite his earlier contrary vote in Tipaldo. Hughes chose to delay the Court’s formal decision in West Coast Hotel so one of the progressive justices could return and provide an extra vote. While they waited, the Court confirmed the president had broad power over foreign policy, upheld a law banning the sale across state lines of harnesses manufactured by convicts, upheld a bankruptcy code provision subordinating landlords’ claims to those of shareholders, and overturned the conviction of a Communist activist.
Nonetheless, FDR began seriously discussing a court-packing scheme with his attorney general. FDR publicly criticized the Court in his State of the Union address. When FDR announced his court-packing scheme, he referenced an overloaded judiciary and “aged and infirm judges” and quoted Hughes (out of context) in explanation. FDR fully expected the public to support him. They did not. A national poll quickly showed a majority of Americans disapproved of his scheme. FDR marshaled his considerable talents for wholesale politicking in response. Hughes considered testifying before the Senate Judiciary Committee, but both Brandeis and Justice Van Devanter thought it unbecoming. Instead, Hughes wrote a letter laying out in detail the Court’s efficient disposition of cases. He kept his other feelings on the scheme close to his vest and refused media invitations.
With the West Coast Hotel decision in his back pocket, Hughes timed its announcement to the height of the uproar over the court-packing scheme and assigned the opinion to himself. It all but overruled the Court’s recent decision in Tipaldo. The Court announced three other opinions favorable to the New Deal on the same day. Opponents of the Court were not assuaged. Frankfurter proclaimed to FDR that Roberts changed his vote for purely political reasons. A pundit later labeled it “the switch in time that saved nine.” Two weeks later the Court upheld the constitutionality of the NLRB, and Hughes’s opinion discarded the direct-indirect distinction he had only recently resurrected. The Court would not strike down a single piece of New Deal legislation that term.
FDR kept quiet about the Court publicly. Privately, FDR seemed angrier about what Hughes’s NLRB opinion meant for his court-packing scheme than happy about what it meant for the New Deal. He demanded the scheme be reported out of the Judiciary Committee without recommendation. They refused, and it was reported out unfavorably. While the Committee was voting, FDR was reading a resignation letter from Van Devanter timed to take some of the wind out of the scheme’s sails. FDR was again strangely displeased but countered by giving the Senate Majority Leader full control over the fight for the bill along with an implied promise of Van Devanter’s seat. It proved all for naught. A scathing report from the Judiciary Committee paraphrasing Alexander Hamilton and a deviously timed vacation by FDR’s VP (no friend to the scheme) combined to drive the final nail in its coffin. The scheme was quickly buried back in committee after the sudden death of the Majority Leader.
Simon disputes FDR’s later assertion that he lost the battle but won the war. It was Hughes who won the war, Simon argues, by proving to be the cannier politician. And Hughes certainly did, as Simon shows, play an integral role in stopping the court-packing scheme and preserving the Court as an independent branch of the federal government.
Simon wants Hughes to take his proper place as a giant of a justice. If you ask the average law student to name a justice from that period, they would name Cardozo, Black, and even Roberts before Hughes. Hughes’s legal reasoning was sometimes muddled. He resurrected a defunct doctrine only to cast it away again a few years later. But he held together a deeply divided Court, and for that he deserves greater recognition. He was also a great, early defender of civil liberties.
Simon paints his picture of this time with enough detail for lawyers and broad enough strokes for lay readers. He takes us deep inside the constitutional law of the day, discussing a number of the cases only mentioned in passing or omitted entirely from Akhil Reed Amar’s mammoth 1,856 page Con Law casebook.