Andrew Millar White – 50th Reunion Essay

Andrew Millar White

220 Loring Ave

Los Angeles, CA 90024

amwhiteesq@aol.com

310-717-1951

Spouse(s): Elisa B. Newman, MD (1981)

Child(ren): Jennifer (1982), Jonathan (1985), Jeffrey (1986, Yale Class of 2009/ Davenport), Juliana (1991), Joelle (1992)

Grandchild(ren): Lennon Magee (2015)

Education: Yale University, BA 1969; Stanford Law School, JD 1974

Career: Trial lawyer in Los Angeles: in boutique firm, then LA Office of Kelly Drye (44 years)

Avocations: Athletics both doing (triathlons, golf, tennis) and watching (basketball, football); child-raising

College: Morse

The Vietnam War cast long, dark shadows over our years at Yale. For our classmates who served in the US military, that war became even more traumatic after our graduation. For me, the Vietnam War forever changed my life on November 1, 1968, when my oldest brother, John C. White III (Yale Class of 1966, Davenport) was killed in Vietnam, at the age of 23. While he was serving as a Marine Corps First Lieutenant, Johnny was shot as he tried to save three of his men who were hit by enemy fire in a jungle ambush not far from Da Nang. The news of Johnny’s death crashed down on me like a lightning bolt.

My last seven months at Yale were a blur. I tried to concentrate on classes, social activities, and our graduation, I took the LSAT and applied to law schools, but I was hopelessly awash in grief. Our Yale Chaplain, Reverend William Sloane Coffin, who knew Johnny well, provided some commiseration when I visited him several times for grief counseling. At Reverend Coffin’s suggestion, my family and I set up a Yale scholarship in Johnny’s name, and I have received some degree of comfort over the past 50 years learning about the talented recipients of that scholarship, which goes to Yale track and cross-country athletes, like Johnny was.

I now realize that I ultimately chose to go to Stanford Law School largely because law school was part of Johnny’s plans for his future, and I was subconsciously trying to step into his shoes and carry out his plans, which were destroyed in a Vietnamese jungle.

After law school, I settled in Los Angeles and was fortunate to build a successful career as a trial lawyer for 44 years; my favorite role was defending the First Amendment/free speech rights of news reporters and broadcasters. Over those 44 years, my clients included every American TV network, all the major TV and movie studios, as well as Hollywood stars and producers. While I took pride in my professional success, my law career did nothing to alleviate my enduring grief, which caused both short-term and long-term depressions, with heavy doses of survivor guilt.

Living under the cloud of that grief and guilt, I found great solace in my marriage of 37 years to Elisa Newman, MD (pediatrician and child psychiatrist) and especially in the birth and growth of our five children, each of whom we gave a “J” name in Johnny’s honor: Jenny, Jonathan, Jeffrey (Yale Class of 2009, Davenport), Juliana, and Joelle. The blossoming of those five new lives, none of which existed during Johnny’s short life, has been a huge source of comfort. Knowing that each of my five children carries Johnny’s DNA and each is inspired by their Uncle Johnny’s memory and his heroism, provides much more salve for my psychic wounds than the Silver Star the Marine Corps awarded posthumously to Johnny.