Traditions? We DO Need Some Stinking Traditions.

My dog is resolute about her routine. She expects a morning walk, food in her bowl before 7 am and promptly at 6pm, and a treat at 8pm. I don’t know how she can tell time, but you can set your watch by her. Or you could, if you still wore a watch. She has trained me well because I too like traditions.

Traditions are comforting. As a lad, I remember going to a little country church regularly- I will wait for you to get back in your chair, Gentle Reader. I knew that Mr. Johnson, the choir director, would start the service by leading us in the same hymns weekly. He even sang on pitch occasionally. Regardless, I remember those hymns to this day and catch myself humming them sometimes. While it is hard to believe that I still remember those songs, they pop up in my head without warning. The old tradition fills the silence. One can only imagine how much more mental hard drive space I would have were it otherwise.

Court appearances revolve around traditions as well. At least, they used to. I don’t know how “oyez oyez” translates to English because my French is weak, but court used to always open to a buzzer and then that call from the bailiff. Similar to a military “Ten Hut!” it was a warning to all to come to order. The room would immediately fall silent as we rose in unison.

I can’t remember the last time I heard an “oyez,” let alone a warning buzzer. The tradition has given way to an “all rise” announcement in many court rooms, or simply the judge’s camera coming on in a WebEx window.

Traditions evolve, but we were all promised in law school that the law evolves slowly. Perhaps it happened so subtly that I missed the evolution of the morning call to order to less a less formal announcement.  It isn’t the only loosening of formality of course. We long ago abandoned white wigs. Stilted language and Latin phrases are almost gone from of our discourse. Not all of this has been an improvement. Formality fostered professionalism and familiarity breeds contempt.

I was reminded of this last week when an older lawyer insisted on calling me “Mr. Farris” even after I implored him to call me “Spencer” several times. We are peers after all and those few remaining lawyers my senior deserve to be less formal.  He persisted and finally told me that he was a professional and would conduct himself formally, including in his language. It was his tradition and I respect his position.

I am not bemoaning the death of all tradition. Even in my day, law school professors were less brutal than they were portrayed in “Paper Chase.” Today’s law students and first year lawyers are lucky to be rid of the humiliation that awaited from authority figures at every turn. It was, however, the fear of being publicly dressed down that ultimately made us strive to be prepared and professional when self-respect was not inspiration enough.  Hazing was a tradition I don’t miss.

Although I have devolved to casual dress at the office, I still don a suit and tie for court whether in person or on video. A sport coat may get into the mix but it is rare. Whether that is for tradition, habit, or mere self-preservation I can’t say. And at 8pm, you can count on me having a treat ready for my pooch. My labrador is no better than my French but if her bark and insistent tail wagging don’t say “Oyez,” I don’t know what does.

©2026 With All Due Respect. Spencer Farris is the founding partner of The S.E. Farris Law Firm in St Louis, Missouri. Comments or criticisms about this column may be sent c/o this publication or directly to him via email at farris@farrislaw.net. He likes cats and dogs, but mostly dogs.