The fantastic, brilliant and curious L.A. “Buster” McConnell

The fantastic, brilliant and curious L.A. “Buster” McConnell crossed the goal line and was admitted into heaven on Monday, November 15, 2021. Let the record so reflect.

I first met Buster after he hired me, sight unseen, to be a law clerk for the Superior Court in 1986. As a clerk, I learned about the practice of law, but mostly I learned that judges can be funny, insightful and caring in doing their jobs because that was Buster’s character. After clerking, I went into private practice and Buster would call me on occasion to represent a defendant who had burned their bridges with the public defender or had conflicts with co-defendants. I would always do my best, and I lost more than I won in those early years, but Buster always reminded me that it’s called “the practice of law.” Buster believed the practice of law was honorable and he would never embarrass an attorney, no matter how absurd their argument.

Just a couple of years later, the chief magistrate position became full-time and Buster appointed me to the position. I hadn’t even applied for the job! When he told me how much the salary was, I declined the position. Buster’s reply: “Too late, I already appointed you.”  He was dead serious, so I took the job. He promised me he’d get my salary “bumped up down the road.” And he did. He also let me sit on the bench in his place a few times.

In 1995, Buster retired due to medical reasons, causing a shakeup in local court politics. I ran for the open district attorney seat (Ed Lukemire had successfully run for Buster’s seat), and Buster, who always had his fingers in local politics, told me I couldn’t win because I was a Republican. After my victory, he admitted he blew that one. Being a judge doesn’t always mean being right, but Buster always did what he thought was right.

His courtroom was a fun place to practice law. He was serious as could be when it was required, but there are times when a little levity is acceptable. Buster would make quips or tell stories that would lighten things up. You always knew it was his courtroom, yet I don’t recall him ever holding a lawyer in contempt.

Often, Buster would greet a defendant and ask him how his daddy or momma was doing. They’d chat about old times, like two long-lost friends. But then Buster would sentence the poor guy to 10 years in prison. So much for “knowing the judge!” Buster often said things that judges can’t say anymore. He never intended to hurt anyone’s feelings; it was just a different time. Every attorney who appeared in Buster’s courtroom has a Buster story. He was unforgettable.  

The “new” courthouse was built pursuant to Buster’s order. In the original design the commissioner’s office was bigger than the footage for the district attorney’s office. I complained about insufficient space and Buster called Chairman Stafford, telling him that the DA was taking the commissioner’s space, and the Chairman said he understood. Buster told me to design my office within the new expanded space, and I did. Just that quick, the DA had sufficient room to do their job, even 20 years later.

I married the beautiful Mary Ann Gallaher on the evening of February 12, 2010, with Buster officiating. That afternoon it started snowing. It was magical. Several inches of snow stuck on the roads, making travel treacherous. We had a number of friends who couldn’t make the trip, but Buster did. When I thanked him for braving the elements, he said: “I was afraid she’d change her mind if we didn’t get this done.” He placed our marriage license in the Bible where Mary Ann found it weeks later. I reminded him of that later, and he said that was so Mary Ann could tear it up if she changed her mind. I was never sure if he was joking or not.

As I have traveled the state, lawyers and judges all over the state want to tell me their “Buster” stories. Buster was never afraid to take a case another jurisdiction had that was too hot to handle. Everywhere he went, he made an impact. He was respected for his courtroom demeanor, wisdom and tenacity in moving the case forward. His health eventually made traveling the state impossible, and not doing what he loved took away some of his zeal for life because he truly loved what he did. His wife, Judy Dean McConnell, was his rock as his health deteriorated. His love for her, his sons Al and Wade, and his grandchildren was deep. He talked of them all the time. Without them, he would have moved on a long time ago, but caring for his family was why he never stopped doing what he loved.

Buster was my friend, but more importantly, my mentor. We spoke all the time about his health, our families, our cases together over the past 30-plus years, and our future. I spoke to him a couple of weeks ago, and I could tell his time was near. Yet, he still made his recurring offer to drive me any place I needed to go. We had a running joke the past few years about who would bury whom. Buster won that bet. Judge, I’ll miss you.

Kelly Burke, retired attorney, former district attorney and magistrate judge, writes about the law, rock ’n’ roll, and politics or anything that strikes him. These articles are not designed to give legal advice, but are designed to inform the public about how the law affects their daily lives. Contact Kelly at dakellyburke@gmail.com to comment on this article or suggest articles that you’d like to see, and visit his website at www.kellyrburke.com to view prior columns.

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