retires on Sunday. This week he talked with The Royal Gazette about his early career in Jamaica, his tenure as Bermuda's longest serving Chief Justice this century, and about the future.

With something approaching a grin on his face, the Chief Justice leaned forward and confided with a hint of passion: "Whoever told you that was quite right. I don't like fools.

"I try to keep fools out of my sight as much as possible.'' He elaborated.

"I call them jackasses. Sometimes they are not apparent. They appear bright and intelligent and then come out with some foolishness.'' Somehow, one suspects the Hon. Sir James Astwood has come across his fair share of fools.

From the bigots who threatened his fledgling career because he was a black man, to the murderers and scoundrels who have passed before his gaze.

From the dope pedlars to the dope victims -- some of them lawyers, yes lawyers -- whose minds have become wretchedly warped by their habit.

And, perhaps also, to the hapless lawyer stumbling through his case, tripping over words, and committing the cardinal sin of repetition.

More than likely, a laconic voice would cut in: "Yes, yes...have you anything new to say?'' Sir James is the archetypal no-nonsense man.

It is as if he has an unwritten contract with the human race: Don't mess with me, and we will get on just fine.

He is a man whose patience is easily exhausted.

That he is also a man held in extremely high regard in Bermuda and overseas is unquestioned.

Tributes have been pouring in as he prepares to hang up his wig and gown on Sunday, the day before his 70th birthday.

Today lawyers will bid him farewell in a Supreme Court ceremony.

They know he leaves behind a judiciary representative of the community, with no racial bias, a far cry from years gone by.

It has been an almost heroic trek from his days as a bright schoolboy to the heady heights of being Bermuda's first black and longest-serving Chief Justice of this century.

Born on October 4, 1923 in Warwick East, Sir James had a happy childhood.

James Rufus Astwood Sr. had made a name for himself as a builder, and the family owned much of the South Shore in the area.

He and his wife, Mabel, drove into their seven children the importance of discipline, integrity, self-reliance and hard work.

And Sir James has never forgotten.

"I think I would credit my wife Gloria with 75 percent of what I have achieved.

"But before I met her I would credit my parents with 50 percent. I had to have the ambition and drive, and the moral and financial support came from them.'' Sir James wept openly at his 92-year-old father's funeral in 1983. It is the only occasion he recalls crying during his adult life.

Significant, maybe, for a man whose job many others would find too emotionally draining.

A gifted youngster, Sir James went from the old Paget Glebe School to Berkeley Institute.

And during the Second World War he attended the former Dockyard School -- which he recalls fondly.

"That school prepared me for my academic career,'' he said.

Two influential figures stick out at this juncture, the school's head Cdr. Guy Middleton and shipwright Mr. Claude Williams.

They spurred him into overcoming the "three Bs'' -- bright, black, and Bermudian.

Not that Sir James was just a swot. Far from it.

"I was a mischievous child, and would climb trees along the South Shore and look into longtails' nests.

"I played cricket and football, and raced cycles. My father owned a stable, and I did a lot of horse-back racing, which I hated.'' He added: "I was very outgoing when I was younger. I like people and I still do.

"It does matter to me what people think of me. I am sensitive.'' Also extremely ambitious, Sir James had always been set on a legal career.

And he cut his legal teeth at the University of Toronto and the Inns of Court in London.

It was in Canada he met the person who would be a vast influence on him -- his Cuban-born wife whom he married in 1952.

Off the starting blocks in his career, Sir James then faced a painful dilemma.

Bermuda in the '50s was a land where racism thrived.

And obstacles were hurled in the path of any young black lawyer hoping to ply his trade.

It is a period Sir James prefers not to dwell on, although one feels it added an extra coating of steel to an already tough make-up.

"Jamaica was by comparison a very integrated society, and since my wife was of Jamaican descent I went there to practice law.

"It is very unlikely I would have ended up as Chief Justice if I hadn't gone to Jamaica to build experience.'' And his 18 years in the Caribbean island certainly stood him in good stead. He eventually rose to become Acting High Court Judge.

He did not return to Bermuda for good until 1974, by which time the climate had sufficiently changed.

It appears Sir James hit the legal runway at a fair pace on his return, as he swiftly moved up the ladder.

From Senior Magistrate, he became Solicitor General in 1976, and just a year later he achieved the pinnacle -- Chief Justice.

A photo recording "one of the proudest moments'' of his life is on the wall of his Chambers.

So too is another milestone -- the 1982 knighthood he received at Buckingham Palace.

Looking back, one overall achievement stands out.

The judiciary has become a smooth-running operation. And, therein, lies the task ahead.

"Keeping and maintaining an efficient judiciary so that confidence will be shown in it is the challenge ahead,'' he said. "Investors who look to do business in Bermuda look for stability.'' He added: "An independent judiciary is an asset which has been hard to attain.

"I tried to get a bench, fully representative of the community, which includes blacks and whites.'' Among the more memorable cases Sir James has handled? Several heavyweight ones spring to his mind, including the lengthy Sea Containers civil hearing of the 1980s.

And among the criminal trials are those involving murderer Troy Shorter and child-killer Chesterfield Johnson.

The hearings raised a thorny legal issue for Sir James.

What is the difference between murder and premeditated murder, which carries the death penalty? "The killing of the Governor, Sir Richard Sharples, was obviously plotted beforehand,'' said Sir James.

"But what if I take out a gun from my drawer now and shoot you? Is there any premeditation in that? "It's something I've discussed with my colleagues, but I don't believe there needs to be a change in the law.'' Another thorn was also raised. That of the death penalty.

Sir James carefully guards his own opinion, but has he lost any sleep after handing down the ultimate sentence? The answer is somehow unsurprising. "No. I am just doing my job. I have no feelings. I am meant to be aloof, removed, remote and objective.'' Sir James Astwood.