Two of federal appellate Judge Paul J. Kelly's favorite things to do are play golf and dash in and out of burning buildings.

"After 24 years it's still fun to go into a burning building, which is probably a little odd, but it is" says Kelly, 67.

Kelly has sat on the bench of the 10th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals since President George H.W. Bush put him there in 1991, and has been a volunteer firefighter and EMT for Santa Fe County's Hondo Volunteer Fire District since 1984.

So if you live in the southeast part of the county and find yourself in the unfortunate circumstance of needing rescuing, the man carrying you through flames or breathing life back into your lungs could well be the same man who upheld the conviction and death sentence of Oklahoma City bomber Timothy McVeigh, and more recently overturned the insider-trading conviction of former Qwest CEO Joseph Nacchio.

In both instances, Kelly was on a panel of three 10th Circuit judges who decided the cases on appeal. The 10th Circuit includes six states — Utah, New Mexico, Colorado, Kansas, Oklahoma and Wyoming. The court is based in Denver; Kelly works out of Santa Fe.

In October, Kelly will be honored in the Great Hall of the U.S. Supreme Court with the Professionalism Award of the American Inns of Court for the 10th Circuit. That is only the most recent of numerous awards that include the Fordham University Law School Lifetime Achievement award, the Cunningham Lifetime Achievement Award from the University of Notre Dame and an honor of which he is most proud, the 2005 Firefighter of the Year Award from the Hondo Fire District.

Kelly also served in the state House of Representatives, representing Chavez County from 1977 to 1981

The affable and rapier-witted Kelly, generally recognized as one of the most cited and quoted appellate judges in the country, recently sat at his federal courthouse desk, which is piled high with briefs, motions and court memos on such matters as the death penalty, a dispute between coal-mine owners and an oil and gas developer, and adult bookstore regulations.

"It just covers the waterfront," Kelly said of the cases before him.

Besides the volumes of leather-bound federal and state code books and law-reference directories normally found in a federal judge's chambers, Kelly's office is replete with firefighter kitsch — a wooden model fire truck, a gift from his grandchildren; and a fire ax presented to him after he stepped aside as Hondo fire chief in 1991.

Except for having to put out the steady flow of legal brush fires and those times when Kelly forgets to turn off his fire-EMT beeper and it goes off under his robes in the middle of a hearing — "which raises a few eyebrows" — there's not much overlap in job roles, but the two worlds do occasionally collide.

When he sits in as a federal district judge, Kelly must recuse himself from hearing cases involving motor-vehicle accidents to which he responded.

He said police officers often flash him a "don't I know you?" look in the courtroom.

But being a firefighter allows Kelly to be part of the world outside the confines of the courthouse.

"As a federal appellate judge, I am very isolated," Kelly said. "I have four law clerks and a secretary. And those are about the only people I can talk to."

He can't talk to district judges except in the most casual of conversations, "because I am grading their papers, if you will.

"I can't talk to lawyers, because if I get to be friends with the attorneys then I can't hear their cases. So the fire department fills what otherwise would be a really big void in my life."

Kelly said that in his 24 years in the Hondo department he has met fellow volunteers from myriad fields of endeavor, including artists and engineers, radio announcers, contractors and woodcutters. "You develop some really good friendships with the people you are risking your life with."

In the courtroom, "Fifty percent of the people I deal with hate me."

He also enjoys being treated like one of the guys.

"Here (at the courthouse on Federal Place) everybody calls you 'judge,' and they step out of the way. There, it's 'Paul' or just 'get over here.' "

Until a couple of years ago, upon receiving an emergency call, Kelly in superhero fashion would throw off his judge's robe, toss on his medical vest and rush to his car. Then — sirens blaring and lights flashing — Kelly would speed off toward the scene of the fire or medical emergency.

But there was a problem. Kelly's rush to the rescue could bring downtown traffic to a standstill.

"I used to use the lights and siren, but it's really quicker not to," he said. Drivers would stop, not knowing exactly where to go, and traffic would get snarled, slowing down the judge.

On a Saturday morning at the Hondo fire station near Seton Village off Old Santa Fe Trail, Kelly inspected the equipment aboard the medical rescue truck after fixing up pancakes and bacon for the morning crew. Volunteers take turns inspecting trucks and the ambulance on Saturdays, ensuring the readiness of the trucks and ambulance.

Vital to the vehicles are the batteries that power the emergency equipment. "I gotta make sure the batteries work," Kelly said. "If the batteries die, the patient may be dead, too."

Hondo Assistant Fire Chief Tom Chilton said Kelly, with his experience and background, is a big plus for the department. "To have people who have stayed a long time is a real asset."

The older volunteers bring a sense of judgment and perspective that only come with time and experience, Chilton said. "He's fit and he's thinking," Chilton said of Kelly.

As an experienced firefighter, Kelly can assess a fire situation and determine what might happen — a ceiling collapse, a sudden fire surge, floors that could give way — and advises the younger volunteers accordingly. "He has a sixth sense of what just doesn't feel right," Chilton said.

To keep in shape, Kelly works out about four days a week, aerobics and weights especially. "I work to keep up with younger guys ... We're swinging axes at metal walls, and if you didn't keep in shape, you'd die."

Kelly said because of the tremendous physical exertion, he doesn't work out-of-district wildfires anymore. "No more wildland fires, no more forest fires," Kelly said. "If it's in the district, I will work on it, but I'd rather not."

Kelly brings a firefighter's philosophy to his jobs and life.

"My wife (Ruth) is always worried about our old age. I tell her 'Don't worry, I will probably die in a burning structure.' "

And he laughs.