These two fascinating articles seek to fill an important lacuna in the burgeoning literature on the legal construction of whiteness. While LatCrit theorists in the legal academy have urged civil rights scholars and race critics to transcend the “black-white paradigm” of U.S. race studies, the majority of legal histories of whiteness have focused on two sets of cases: trials in the southeastern United States in which local courts tried to draw the line between “white” and “negro”; and cases about immigration and naturalization in which Federal courts determined whether particular foreign immigrants were suitably “white” for citizenship. Likewise, although there have been several important social and cultural histories of Texas Mexicans and whiteness in the last fifteen years, they have not considered the legal realm. The time is ripe for attention to the legal history of Mexican Americans' civil rights struggles in Texas, especially as they illuminate the shifting racial identity of Mexican Americans in the Southwest.

Ariela Gross offers a thorough summary of points made in the two articles in this Forum, and integrates the articles well. As she notes, taken together, they provide an examination of the “other white” litigation strategy employed by Mexican American civil rights lawyers.

Susan Reynolds has written a typically wide-ranging, and thought-provoking, article about the process of transition from what she calls “the diffused, undifferentiated, customary law” that was characteristic of Western Europe in the early medieval period to the various different forms of “professional law” that were characteristic of the higher courts of Western Europe in the later middle ages. This is a process that she characterizes, surely correctly, as an “important stage of legal history,” for it was only as an end result of this process of transformation that there emerged law courts and legal procedures and substantial bodies of legal rules that are recognizably the distant ancestors of their modern European and American counterparts. It was also this process of transformation that changed for ever the relationship between law and the society that this law regulated and in which it was embedded in Western European societies. Her article makes no claim to be a definitive study of this process. It is more a pointer to the work that still needs to be done to enable full transnational comparisons to be made between the different ways the process happened within different legal systems and between the different systems that were created through these changes. She does, nonetheless, state some tentative conclusions and point to what she sees as some of the prime factors in bringing about the transformation.

Peter Karsten asks why there might be a greater comparative propensity among CANZ historians than among those of the United States. Part of the reason may lie in the legal education many of us in Australia received, and in the formal legal status of many commonwealth countries until recently. As recently as the early 1970s, Australian law students were taught that English law was as significant as that made in the Australian courts. Appeals from the Australian Supreme Courts to the Privy Council were finally abolished only in 1986. From that time onward, there was a drive within the law schools to find differences from England, to look toward comparisons with other places than England.

Ariela J. Gross is generous in praising research accomplished and helpful in suggesting routes for future investigation. In response to such a model of constructive criticism, I can only plead no contest to the main charge that, while examining changes in legal strategy and judicial rhetoric in school segregation litigation, I neglected to explore important aspects of Mexican Americans' own understanding and actual experiences of “other whiteness.” As a result, the “ordinary” people in my tale seem to lack agency even in their own cases. This is an unfortunate but frequent limitation of historical studies of litigation, not least because—despite the presence in the courtroom of a plaintiff or defendant—trial records most clearly reveal the professional concerns of lawyers and judges. Even transcribed testimony (which is not always available) may tell us more about the lawyer's strategy and the judge's mood than a witness's reality. Gross rightly asks the question directly that I (admittedly) avoided entirely: “did the legal regime of whiteness have any larger cultural significance?” Put another way, I understand this question to be: did the fine legal distinctions hammered out by Mexican American attorneys and Anglo American judges matter at all to the ordinary people—parents, workers, and defendants—whether Mexican or Anglo? I think that the answer is yes, gradations of whiteness mattered even to the lay public. Yet, it seems clear as well that whiteness was experienced differently by members of various economic and social classes of Mexican Texans.

Readers who look forward to a fierce debate may be in for a disappointment, as I find myself more or less in agreement with most of the points the three commentators have made about my article. I am grateful to them for the attention they have given it and for their pertinent and constructive comments.

On March 5, 1824, Henry St. George Tucker was elected by the General Assembly of Virginia to be the judge of the circuit superior court of chancery to sit in Winchester and Clarksburg. Tucker had built up a very successful law practice in Winchester, where he had settled in 1802 upon his admission to the bar. He had also built up a large family; he had six sons and two daughters as well as three children who died young. The elevation to the bench resulted in an increase in professional status, but it also resulted in a substantial decrease in income. In order to remedy this financial development without ethical prejudice to his professional development, he opened a law school. This solution was, no doubt, an obvious one, as his father, the eminent Judge St. George Tucker, had done the same in 1790, when he became the professor of law and police in the College of William and Mary.