USC School of Law Legal Times

“So it always is. Someone is ever ready to scatter little acts of kindness along our pathway, making it smooth and pleasant.” It seems appropriate to use the words of Helen Keller to describe the life of Vicky Janice Wray Warren, a Conway attorney who represented the poor, always thinking of others even as she confronted her own terminal cancer. When Vicky died on July 11, 2002, she left behind a legacy of courage, determination, and kindness.

Born one of 13 children in York County, S.C., Vicky was always special. Even as a child, she possessed an inner serenity that was reflected on her face by her peaceful yet radiant smile. Blinded by cancer at the age of two, she received much of her early education from the South Carolina School for the Deaf & Blind in Spartanburg. Vicky’s large family was very precious to her; yet because of her blindness, she left home at a young age in order to pursue her education.

Reading was one of her passions. While other children played outside, Vicky read. Marguerite Harvey, a counselor at the South Carolina School for the Deaf & Blind, and a lifelong friend of Vicky’s, remarked that: “She would walk across that campus with piles of Braille books, those big books, too. She was very independent and always wanted to learn. She read when other kids played.”¹

Vicky’s quest for knowledge led her to Winthrop University, where she received her BA degree in 1983, and then on to law school at the University of South Carolina. Vicky was only the second blind graduate of the University of South Carolina School of Law. A member of the Class of 1989, she was a familiar figure on campus, walking cheerfully to class with her trademark smile, guided by her beloved golden lab, Chelsea. When she walked across the stage to receive her diploma at commencement, Chelsea walked with her, wearing her mortar board. Vicky’s classmates gave her a standing ovation.

After graduation, Vicky cared for her ill father and searched for employment, receiving rejection after rejection because employers were wary of hiring a blind attorney. In 1991, she moved to Conway to accept a job with the Neighborhood Legal Assistance Program. Conway remained her home until shortly before her death. From her apartment near the downtown area, Vicky memorized the routes to her office and to the Horry County Courthouse. Soon, Vicky, with her long blond hair and her characteristic smile, was a familiar figure in Conway as she walked with Chelsea to work and to court.

Vicky was a welcome addition to the Horry County Family Court Bar. Although the family court judge worried that other attorneys might take advantage of Vicky because of her blindness, it was a needless concern. First, Vicky was always prepared for court, and second, members of the Horry County Bar Association quickly came to love and respect Vicky. Vicky was a natural at representing the poor and disadvantaged before the family court. As she put it: “I grew up poor. I know what it’s like living from paycheck to paycheck.”² Vicky worked tirelessly to change things for her clients, most of whom were financially disadvantaged and were in need of an attorney. Vicky was assertive when necessary, and kind when a gentle touch was needed. And always, there was that radiant, characteristic smile on her face. H.T. Abbott III, family court judge for the 15th Judicial Circuit, remembers Vicky as a lawyer who was “always prepared, punctual, and professional. It was a delight to have her practice in my court.”

Vicky’s sense of humor often surprised people who were expecting a different attitude from a person with her disability. Thomas Duval “Val” Guest, president of the Horry County Bar and a classmate of Vicky’s, said: “As a first-year law student, you couldn’t help but notice Vicky and her beautiful dog, Chelsea. She sat in the front row of most classes taking notes with her special equipment. It was obvious upon first meeting Vicky that she was blind, but after only a few minutes of talking with her, that was forgotten and she was just another student struggling to get through her first year of law school. What was also obvious was that she was a smart, articulate woman with a great disposition and sense of humor. After graduation, Vicky and I both wound up in Horry County, her with Neighborhood Legal Assistance and me with the Solicitor’s Office. Vicky and I had many cases together. She was a great advocate for her clients, always prepared and ready to do battle in trial if necessary. She brought great intelligence, a sunny disposition, and a wonderful sense of humor to the practice of law.”

One of Vicky’s closest friends was Conway attorney Deborah Dantzler, who misses Vicky daily and enjoys reminiscing about Vicky’s fun-loving personality. According to Dantzler, Vicky was not the least bit self-conscious about her blindness, but the prankster in her enjoyed exploiting other people’s discomfort. “One of her favorite tricks was to wave when someone dropped her off at home. She would go to the front door, turn around and wave, knowing full well that the friend in the car would wave back before realizing her mistake. We frequently had to attend meetings in Columbia together and although I always got lost when I went alone, I never got lost when she was with me. She liked to tell people that I was the only driver in South Carolina who needed a blind woman for a guide!”

Dantzler noted that although the first thing most people noticed about Vicky was her blindness, they really missed the point. “While she overcame obstacles that most of us cannot imagine, it was not her achievements that made her extraordinary; it was her character. She treated the disenfranchised with the same level of dignity as she did the powerful of society. She expressed such deep compassion, but by her own example, silenced excuses. People like Vicky Wray are the dessert of life. What I gained from her friendship has forever made my life sweeter.”

Anita Floyd, Conway attorney and close friend of Vicky’s, often drove Vicky to her doctor’s appointments in Charleston in the last few years of Vicky’s life, a task that Floyd considers to have been not a chore, but a blessing. Like everyone quoted in this article, Floyd feels that she gained more from her relationship with Vicky than she contributed to it. When asked to describe Vicky, Floyd said, “Vicky’s sense of humor defined her; her compassion defined her; her quick wit and intelligence defined her; but, her blindness never defined her. It may have been a boundary, but it was never a limitation.”

While Vicky lived in Conway, her beloved guide dog, Chelsea, died unexpectedly. Within 24 hours, donations streamed into the family court office from members of the Horry County Bar Association who wanted to help Vicky obtain a new dog. This outpouring of affection for Vicky continued when she became ill as her fellow attorneys assisted her with her caseload. When Vicky’s illness robbed her of the ability to come to work on a daily basis, members of the bar quickly donated money to help defray the cost of her living expenses and medical treatment. Upon her death, members of the bar continued to offer financial assistance to pay her funeral bills and related costs. All these efforts by her fellow bar members were made without any request for help. Vicky had a way of inspiring others to reach within themselves and bring forth their best.

Vicky found a church home in Conway’s St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, where she was confirmed in 1992. Vicky had a beautiful voice and sang with the church choir for a while. She left the choir, much to its members’ chagrin, only because she felt her new guide dog, Millie, was too disruptive in the choir loft, particularly after she loudly chewed on palm fronds during one Palm Sunday service. A deeply religious woman, one of Vicky’s few memories of sighted objects was of a statue of Jesus at the old Divine Savior Hospital in York. As Vicky’s priest, Julian T. “Tripp” Jeffords III observed, “When I arrived in Conway, my initial reaction to Vicky was that she would be difficult to get to know. After all, I had never really had the opportunity to befriend a blind person, much less to serve as his or her priest. My stereotypes were that she would be extremely dependent on others for help, and possibly even angry with God over her condition. Nothing could be further from the truth! Over the years, I came to understand Vicky as a truly remarkable woman. Never before have I met someone who had been so handicapped by life and its circumstances, and yet, remained such a blessing to others. I remember always setting out to go by Vicky’s house with the intention that I would bring her some hope and minister to her soul, but Vicky had this wonderful knack of turning the tables on you. You would begin to ask about her, and soon she would have you talking about yourself. She was one of the most humble, unassuming people I have ever known. I never left Vicky’s presence without her radiating joyous and gracious ways, having the wonderful affect of lifting my spirit to new heights.”

In Conway, Vicky also found love. The man who would become her husband, John Warren, was originally a client who had lost his sight to diabetes. They were married at St. Paul’s in August of 2000. Her family and friends turned out for a wonderful reception in the church’s parish hall. Vicky had never looked happier. Unfortunately, that happiness was short-lived, as John died a few months later. Still, Vicky went on, practicing law, battling the cancer, which eventually claimed her life, and caring for and helping others.

Children loved Vicky because they knew she loved them. She made time for them and listened to their every adventure. Pictures of nieces and nephews adorned her walls. One of her grandnephews, Dale, needed a home, and Vicky was there to provide one. She took Dale into her home and raised him as a son. Six-years-old at the time of Vicky’s death, Dale called her “Momma.” Vicky took Dale to church, helped him with his homework, and mothered him until her death. Too sick to come to church, Vicky asked Father Tripp to come to her home to baptize Dale, who had not been actively involved in a church until he came to live with Vicky.

When Vicky passed away on July 11, 2002, she left behind her beloved family and the many friends and clients whose lives she had touched. Father Tripp reports that several months earlier, Vicky had called him to her bedside to plan her funeral, in order to save her family the grief. Even in extreme pain, and facing death, her main concern was her family’s well-being.

To many, it seemed that life had not been fair to Vicky Wray Warren. Blinded by cancer at the age of two, the loss of a husband after only a few months of marriage and from death by cancer at age 41—all seem like cruel blows to a woman whose life was marked by her love of God, love of family, and service to others. Yet Vicky would be the first to tell you that she led a blessed life. She won the hearts of many and earned the respect of those in her profession. She gave far more to this world than she ever received. Once again, words from Helen Keller best describe Vicky Wray’s outlook on life: “Keep your face to the sunshine and you cannot see the shadows.”

¹Andrew Dys, Inspiring Lawyer Dies with Final Thoughts of Family, THE HERALD, July 12, 2002, at 1B.

²Id.