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Manning's rulings reflect a personal style that is both demanding and generous, learned and folksy. He loves to talk, especially when he's telling a story, whether it's about bats in his family's vacation house in Oriental or his tennis-playing days in the Navy.

But the 61-year-old judge from Raleigh has earned such a reputation for sound judgment -- especially in complicated matters -- that senior judges have tapped him repeatedly to handle cases with significant statewide impact.

Now, with legislators weeks away from returning to Raleigh, a judge who has no hesitation about raising hell is determined to make his orders stick, prodding lawmakers to do whatever it takes to help struggling students succeed. He has signaled repeatedly that he expects legislators to snap to and respond.

There are times he wishes he could just hold them in contempt of court.

"You can't march 'em down the street," Manning says during a recent talk to a community group in North Raleigh. "I can't get [Wake Sheriff] Donnie Harrison and the drug dogs to go down to the legislature and pick up [Senate leader] Marc Basnight."

He does, however, appreciate the power of a stern lecture from the bench.

"One thing judges can do, is we can have hearings," Manning says. "It's amazing what can happen when you have a hearing."

Rebellious early years

Howdy Manning has never been afraid to test his limits. At 14, he took his father's Olds 88 for a joy ride when his parents were away, somehow escaping blame for an obvious dent he left in the rear bumper.

He joined friends from Daniels Junior High School in bashing mailboxes along Ridge Road in west Raleigh. That punishment he didn't avoid, replacing the damaged property by doing yard chores for his mother at 25 cents an hour.

"I walk down Ridge Road today and I think, 'A few of those mailboxes are mine,' '' he says.

For his last two years of high school, his parents sent him off to Virginia Episcopal School, prestigious and private. He played football and was a top tennis player.

As a freshman at UNC-Chapel Hill in 1961, he pledged Zeta Psi fraternity, a group known for its irreverence. His weight ballooned to 270 pounds on his six-foot frame. He drank a lot of Pabst Blue Ribbon.

Manning has always been known as Howdy, a family nickname given him by his grandmother. His expanding girth earned him an additional moniker: Hog.

One winter night, fraternity brothers left a frozen porker in his bed. A Marlboro cigarette -- Manning's brand back then -- dangled from its mouth.

Howard Manning Sr. was worried. When it came time for Howdy's younger brother, George, to attend Chapel Hill, he left him at his dorm with a warning, Howdy Manning says.

"Now look here," his father told George. "I want you to have a good time, but I don't want another [expletive] Howdy on my hands."

"I had a good time," Manning acknowledges. "I was a pain in the ass."

Dad pushes hard

Howard Sr. set a daily example for his four sons with his demanding work ethic. He'd work from 8 to 6, return for dinner at the family's Banbury Road home, then go back to his law office. The kids were in bed by the time he was done. He often worked weekends.

He was strict. Dinner conversation was often devoted to questions about how the boys were doing in school. "Inquisitions," Manning calls them.

"We were glad when we saw the taillights pull out of the drive-way," he says.

Education was a given in the Manning home. His father and mother were heirs to family traditions of academic achievement. His father, who died in 2002, received his law degree from Harvard Law School after attending UNC-Chapel Hill. His mother, Mariana, who died this summer, graduated from Smith College.

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