by Raffi Melkonian

This summer, I had the privilege of standing for the first time before the Louisiana Supreme Court arguing a case certified from a federal district court. I argue in courts around the country, and one of the great pleasures of that job is discovering the many subtle ways courts uniquely differ from each other. Some traditions are charmingly personal—in the United States Court of Appeals for the Fourth Circuit, covering Virginia, Maryland, and North Carolina, judges descend from the bench after argument to shake hands with advocates, a warm gesture in an otherwise formal setting. Others reflect their state’s character, like the Delaware Supreme Court’s meticulous formality and decorum, befitting its role as the guardian of American corporate law. And some court features speak to their history and their deep sense of place—the Ninth Circuit’s Pioneer Courthouse in Portland still has its original fireplace, while you can see the mountains through the courthouse’s expansive windows when the Tenth Circuit sits in Utah.

What struck me about the  Louisiana Supreme Court,  even more than the beautiful building and the lovely courtroom, was its unusual lectern. Emblazoned in the middle was a vintage IBM logo. And to both sides, finely wrought brass clocks seemed to indicate speaking time. Small globe lights stood at the ready, presumably to shine green and red. I was startled—I had never seen such a beautiful piece of vintage technology in a court. The lectern seemed like it had come from a museum.

Photo reprint courtesy of IBM Corporation ©2025

Curiosity got the better of me after the oral argument. I turned to the internet, hoping to unearth some information about this unusual courtroom fixture. Despite my efforts, the Louisiana Supreme Court itself did not appear to have any specific information. And conducting general searches online also did not help. Unwilling to admit defeat, I sent a cold email to the Supreme Court’s library. Courtesy of the staff, this inquiry culminated in a gracious response from the Court’s retired Clerk,  John Tarlton Olivier. He explained that the lectern had been purchased from IBM mid-century, around the time the Louisiana Supreme Court transitioned to its then-modern building. The lectern was part of a cutting-edge courtroom integration. It wasn’t just a piece of furniture; it was a technological marvel, with its synchronized clocks and built-in microphones and ability to electronically tilt and raise. When the Court moved into its current premises in the mid-2000s, the lectern was refinished to harmonize with the decor. But the core of it was the same. It was a lectern designed and built in the golden age of IBM’s dominance of American business. In short, when you argue at the Louisiana Supreme Court, you lean on a real-life symbol of “Big Blue,” the iconic company that led America into the early computer age.

But that’s not the whole story. I later contacted a private IBM museum I found in the United Kingdom. The helpful staff there were able to unearth even more information for me about the lectern. As it turns out, IBM’s Time Equipment Division—the same folks who built toll booths along America’s highways in the 60s and 70s, IBM branded scoreboards, and punch clocks for recording work hours—manufactured these lecterns starting in 1954. Designed with a blend of elegance and functionality, they were constructed from walnut veneer and featured an array of futuristic controls for their time. The lecterns boasted adjustable heights and angles, built-in clocks with edge-lighted dials, indirect lighting, and mechanisms for microphone management. They were often sold to institutions that valued precision and prestige, including universities and governmental bodies. A closer look at IBM’s history reveals that their focus on executive lecterns even predated the 1950s. In the 1940s, IBM created a custom lectern for President Franklin D. Roosevelt, incorporating shielded mechanisms suitable for high-security events. This dedication to innovation set the stage for the 1954 design—a product meant to impress academic and business audiences.

Remarkably, one of these same IBM lecterns likely played a role in a moment of national inspiration. In 1962, President John F. Kennedy delivered his iconic “We choose to go to the moon” speech at Rice University from an IBM lectern. While there is a current controversy among antiquarians about whether the IBM lectern that’s housed at Space Center Houston is the exact one from which Kennedy spoke, there is no doubt that Kennedy spoke from an IBM lectern, and that he would have felt right at home in the Louisiana Supreme Court. That realization made me think one could probably track a lot of American history in the past half century through the story of these once-ubiquitous lecterns.  

More broadly, it’s a reminder that we should look for the unexpected stories that surround us. Objects like the IBM lectern serve as more than functional aids; they are artifacts, carrying the weight of history into the present. Our profession is rich with such physical connections to the past—from the worn marble steps of historic courthouses to the century-old oak benches where anxious lawyers have always waited their turn. Even the most mundane objects—a judge’s gavel, a witness chair, a court reporter’s stenotype machine—each carries its own history of justice being sought and served. The next time I argue a case, I’ll do so with a renewed appreciation for the tools we use to do so.

Photo courtesy of Sara V. Pixon
Head of Public Services, Law Library of Louisiana
Louisiana Supreme Court

Raffi Melkonian is a partner at Wright Close & Barger. Raffi tweets about appellate practice at @RMFifthcircuit.

IBM, the IBM logo, and ibm.com are trademarks or registered trademarks of International Business Machines Corporation, registered in many jurisdictions worldwide. Other product and service names might be trademarks of IBM or other companies.

This article first appeared in De Novo, the newsletter of The Law Library of Louisiana, and is reprinted with permission from the author and Miriam D. Childs, Director, Law Library of Louisiana, Louisiana Supreme Court.