Introduction

They are prosecutors, politicians, poets, and probation officers; academics, attorneys, athletes, and authors; students, stockbrokers, and salespeople; football players and firefighters. They have worked at the highest levels of governments, as advisors to Presidents, and in the U.S. Senate. They have prosecuted, defended, and judged their fellow men and women. They have achieved unprecedented feats on the field of athletic competition. They have served their country honorably in the military.

Yet when they were kids, every one of them was in trouble with the law. But for the protections and rehabilitative focus of the juvenile court—a uniquely American invention that was the brainchild of a group of Chicago women activists a century ago—many of them would simply not be where they are today. And most of them would be the first to admit it.

America's juvenile court is celebrating its 100th anniversary. In 1882, John Altgeld, an aspiring Chicago lawyer who would later become Governor of Illinois, toured the House of Corrections in Chicago and discovered that hundreds of children, including children as young as 8 years of age, were jailed alongside adults. Appalled by the tragic circumstances of these children, Chicago reformers Jane Addams, Lucy Flower, and Julia Lathrop encouraged State lawmakers to create a separate justice system for children. Before women could vote and while segregation was still the law of the land, these efforts led to the creation of the first juvenile court in the world, which opened its doors on July 3, 1899, on Chicago's West Side. The new court was one part of a comprehensive series of century-shaping reforms affecting children, inspired by the work of Jane Addams and her associates at the Hull House social settlement. These reforms included compulsory education laws for children, abolition of child labor, and development of playgrounds and parks as recreational spaces.

The reformers' ideas spread like wildfire, leading to the rapid development of juvenile courts in 46 States and the District of Columbia by 1925. As America pioneered the jurisprudence of a more humane approach to youth crime, many other countries established separate court systems for children.¹ Today, every State has a distinct court or jurisdiction for dependent, neglected, or delinquent children, as do most nations throughout the world.

Addams and the other Chicago reformers helped to redefine "childhood," creating a new vision of a unique, sacred period in human life, a period during which children and adolescents require the nurturance and guidance of responsible adults. No longer were children viewed as "mini-adults"; they were instead recognized as people qualitatively and developmentally different from adults. These differences were seen as making children more amenable to intervention and recovery than their elders and at least potentially less culpable for the consequences of their actions.

These reformers believed that, in a civilized society, the State has a moral responsibility to act as a "kind and just parent" to all children in need of protection and sanctioning, and they reinvigorated the concept of parens patriae to govern such cases. In the context of a court system, this meant that children would receive individualized attention under the watchful eyes of trained and sensitive judges and probation officers in a jurisdiction that was premised on rehabilitation rather than merely punishment, minimized future stigma, and separated juveniles from adults in confinement. In the juvenile justice system, court proceedings were informal, nonadversarial, and private; the language of adult criminal court was modified; and a goal was to protect children from long-term damage to their future prospects.

The juvenile court is a far from perfect institution, but its core tenets—protection from stigmatizing consequences, rehabilitation, individualized attention, a second chance for kids, and separation of children from adults in jails and lockups—are as vital now as they have ever been. The themes that recur in the stories of the 25 Second Chance profile subjects illustrate the importance of these tenets.

Protection from stigmatization. Fire Captain James N. Short, who once broke his neck in the line of duty, was nearly denied a promotion because of his youthful arrests. District Attorney Terence Hallinan had to appeal to the California Supreme Court before he could be admitted to practice law. Judge Walton, Senator Simpson, Terry Ray, Lawrence Wu, and Brian Silverman are all attorneys who might have been denied admission to the bar had their juvenile offenses carried the same weight as adult convictions. Like these individuals, all those profiled benefited, some profoundly, from protections that allowed youth to put their past behind them and move on.² Society, too, has benefited, as these individuals developed into productive citizens instead of adult criminals who would have contributed to public fear and remained a drain on fiscal and human resources.

Rehabilitation. The juvenile justice system still largely promotes the concept that kids should be helped to turn their lives around. Several of the individuals profiled—Kansas City Chiefs' linebacker Derrick Thomas, premed student Jeremy Estrada, former Presidential Honor Guard member Scott Filippi, author Claude Brown, and students Brandon Maxwell and Jason Smith—credit rigorous rehabilitative programs for opening a path toward a better life.

Individualized attention. Perhaps most important, the juvenile justice system is likely to bring troubled youth in contact with individuals who are committed to helping rather than simply punishing. Profile subjects Terry Ray, Carolyn Gibbered, Sally Henderson, and Andre Dawkins all emphasized that people—real people whose names they could recall—were there for them again and again when they needed a helping hand. The attention and expectations of these individuals made all the difference.

Another chance. Finally, several lives recounted in Second Chances speak to the importance of simply giving kids repeated chances to turn their lives around and room to grow up, sometimes on their own. Olympic Gold Medallist Bob Beacon, poet Luis Rodriguez, professor and Juvenile Probation Commission President Joe Julian, and Columbia University Law Review editor Lawrence Wu were all gang members who had multiple contacts with law enforcement before they changed direction. For some, their turnabouts came as a result of introspection rather than system-structured rehabilitation. Still, the juvenile court system allowed them numerous opportunities to succeed, without closing doors to potential future accomplishments.

In sum, all 25 profiles are living, breathing testaments to the resiliency of the vision of the women whose reform efforts led to the founding of the juvenile court. They are also a ringing affirmation of the need for a court system premised on the recognition that children are different from adults, a court system that gives young people a chance to make a better choice. The 12 profiles that follow, which are reprinted from Second Chances, serve to illustrate the major themes of these stories.

Second Chances: Giving Kids a Chance To Make a Better Choice	Juvenile Justice Bulletin • May 2000