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Posted April 2026Judge E. Grady Jolly owned a whiskey decanter that looked like Elvis, a reference to the tongue-in-cheek 1989 George Jones hit, “The King is Gone (So Are You).” He proudly displayed this kitschy object on a shelf in his home and delighted in explaining it to guests, many of whom didn’t know the song it referenced. His guests were probably surprised to receive a lesson on country music from this bespectacled federal judge, who owned a closetful of white bucks but no cowboy boots, and shelves of artifacts from his world travels but no other Elvis memorabilia. I can see Judge Jolly now, a slightly mischievous grin on his face and the decanter in his hands, enjoying his listeners’ disbelieving reactions. And so will I see him always in my mind’s eye.
We said goodbye to Judge Jolly on March 23, 2026, in a Requiem Eucharist at Saint Andrew’s Cathedral in Jackson, one week after his passing. At least twelve members of the United States Court of Appeals for the Fifth Circuit were in attendance, along with judges from the United States district courts, and our state courts. Some of the brightest lights of the capital area bar were there too, along with former law clerks who came from all over the country, and the Judge’s many friends—lawyers and non-lawyers alike.
The occasion, like the man, was a blend of ceremony and humor. The Reverend Buddy Stallings delivered a homily. Phil Burnett, husband to Judge Jolly’s beloved niece, Anna, shared family memories; Judge Edith Jones spoke for the Judge’s Fifth Circuit colleagues; and Claiborne Barksdale offered his perspective as the Judge’s friend and first law clerk.
The church service was followed by a reception at the Fairview Inn, one of the Judge’s favorite places. Jolly stories flowed there with warmth and enthusiasm—a fitting tribute to a man who loved to tell a good story. Former law clerks, in particular, told tales of sparring with the Judge over draft opinions (he always won; they always lost); of their own embarrassing moments the Judge still teased them about years later (like throwing up in chambers the morning of an oral argument); and of failed attempts to match the Judge’s sartorial splendor (only double pucker seersucker met the Judge’s standards). We all laughed and wished the Judge were there to apply his own unique gloss to every story, as he always did.
Reflecting on these stories, it occurred to me that when one talks about Judge Jolly, the natural tendency is to talk about his personality and good cheer first. And this is perhaps an unusual tendency when the subject of conversation is someone with so many professional accomplishments. Many accomplished people build a respectable façade and live behind it, amplifying their accomplishments to make the façade impenetrable. That was not Judge Jolly’s way. His job, as he saw it, was to decide cases on the law and record, not to seek attention. This approach to the job earned Judge Jolly the respect and trust of his colleagues. He took his oath and duty very seriously, and he fulfilled them with distinction. But he never took himself too seriously.
That is why, whether you knew Judge Jolly from the forty three years he served on the Fifth Circuit, or you practiced law with or against him, or you crossed paths with him in his earlier government service (with the DOJ, the U.S. Attorney’s office, or the NLRB), or you knew him socially, you have something to say about who he was, and not just about what he did. The chances are, you remember something that makes you laugh or smile. Maybe it’s a whiskey decanter that looks like Elvis.
