I first met Bob Huttash while I was clerking for Judge Tom G. Davis on the Court of Criminal Appeals. Although he was many years my senior, and already quite accomplished, Bob was unfailingly generous with his time in discussing the arcane world of Texas criminal law, particularly fundamental errors in charging instruments, with me. Every young lawyer needs a mentor and Bob Huttash was that and more for me. He was a true friend and a consummate professional. He had me over to his house on several occasions where he grilled a mean steak and played Justin Wilson records. His legal hero was Justice Hugo Black, who revered the plain words of the Constitution.

I remember all of these things about Bob Huttash, although I moved away from Austin in 1985 and, much to my regret, gradually lost touch with him. But what I remember most is Bob Huttash playing ping-pong. Back then, there was a ping-pong table in the basement of the Texas Supreme Court Building. Every day, after a lunch of Texas Barbecue, Mexican Food, or Chicken Fried Steak,  you would find a group of us down in that basement, sweating up a storm at the ping-pong table. You needed excellent skills, and a very thick skin, to play at that table. I would not characterize it as a politically correct place. Judge Mike (”The Short Judge”) McCormick, Chief Clerk Tommy (”The Stud Duck”) Lowe, Judge Chuck Campbell, Sol “Menachem” Wisenberg, Michael Hutson, Bill Delmore, Jeff Jones, Joe Porto, and a host of briefing attorneys passed through that room. Huttash towered above them all. He didn’t have a nickname. He was just Huttash–the best ping-ponger I ever played against. He used a red Harvard paddle–retail value, $45.00. One time I went to Houston and purchased custom made paddles for Mike Huston and me, in an effort to knock Bob off his perch. It didn’t work.

We had great fun at that table. I can still see Huttash standing at one of its corners–sweat dripping down his shirt, or under-shirt, a cigarette dangling from his mouth–calmly returning the ball, slam for slam. He’d get tired occasionally. (He was never in great shape.) If he had to work real hard to get a point, he’d look out and say, to no one in particular, “You’re gonna send me to King-Tears.”