A Trial Lawyer's Notebook: Election 2004

It's Tuesday afternoon at a bar in Clayton, Missouri. 6:30 CST. I'm on a short leash: Andrea and I have babysitting troubles. We're going to watch the election returns together on TV. But she's sneaking out to the mall, and I get an extension of time. My compatriots, so far: Mike and Joey. We have another round of beers. Based on the exit polling, we're feeling extremely confident. Well, I am, anyway. I'm the dumb one, as it turns out.

I call Andrea again. She's still shopping, so I get a second extension of time and head to Joey's. He's having a little election get-together. Just plaintiffs' lawyers, mostly. I walk around the house and stand on the patio. The last time I was here, I was talking to Christopher Hitchens. Back then, the election seemed so far away. He was telling us why he hated Michael Moore. And that we should watch his movie about Henry Kissinger.

But that was then. I greet Joey's wife, then head to the pool house. It's got a full bar and a new plasma TV. Joey is a plaintiffs' lawyer, after all. The TV's tuned to NBC: the local coverage on the half-hour is very important to us. We're rooting for McCaskill (Missouri governor) and Maag (Illinois Supreme Court). And Kerry, of course. Winners are already being projected left and right, but no surprises. It's still looking good. The pizza arrives. As do other compatriots: Dave, John. All of us are very upbeat.

Hell, we're always upbeat. As usual, there's lots of laughter. But lots of gallows humor, too, just in case we're going to lose. Just in case we're deluding ourselves. Another compatriot shows up: Dave 2. He's more of a defense lawyer, but he'll hang out with us anyway. But then he has to leave to pick up his daughter from swim team. Were we being too loud? Wasn't there enough food?

Another batch of pizza arrives. All of a sudden, cracks seem to be appearing in our rosy scenario. We stay the course with more gallows humor. Meanwhile, I'm thinking, What about those exit polls? The exit polls: we can't lose. And the Democratic candidate for governor is ahead in Missouri. Hell, even Kerry's close. All is good, right? Maybe yes, maybe no. Now someone screaming at the TV. Is it hot in here? And why are they reporting the returns that way, without telling us which counties are reporting? The returns are meaningless without that information.

Cracks or not, the news from Illinois is fantastic: Obama is crushing Keyes, Kerry is crushing Bush. On the other hand, that's not surprising. It doesn't mean anything. Still more compatriots arrive: Jeff and Kevin. Joey pulls Jeff aside to talk about the Jewish vote. It's a conversation that continues for a half hour and seems very rambling. Come to think of it, is anyone making any sense? It's so loud! And John's cigar smoke! I feel like I'm choking.

But it's not the smoke that's choking me, it's this sudden realization: it's all coming down to Ohio. And Kerry's behind there.

I call home. My third request for an extension of time is denied. So I say my goodbyes, promising to return later. You know, sometime after midnight. On the way home, I turn on the radio. Someone says the Republican candidate for Missouri governor has just pulled ahead. It's a bad sign. It's an ominous sign. But when I pull in the driveway, I push it out of my mind. I'm starting over again at home. With Andrea. At least she's got a clear head. She needed it to shop.

On the TV, though, the election has entered a period of No Movement. I hear that word again: Ohio. "Ohio." I can't watch it anymore. Is it time for bed? Pull yourself together, I think. Get out the laptop. Weblogs will cheer you up! Isn't Rufus live-blogging? Maybe I can do a post myself! Or send Rufus an e-mail!

But I leave the laptop in the drawer. I have to be honest with myself: I'm becoming depressed. Demoralized. We're losing. Forget about going back to Joey's: I'm going to bed.

It's a long night. Time after time, I wake up: should I turn on the TV? Maybe something's happened. But no, I tell myself, I should sleep. If I don't sleep, I'll get sick. Not good.

Still, I'm up at 5 a.m. Got to do the morning writing. (Did I mention I'm writing a book?) I turn on the TV, hoping for a miracle. Bad news from all over. While Andrea's sleeping, I make a list: things we're going to have to change about our law practice. It's long. Really long. In one night, everything has changed. McCaskill lost. Maag lost. Kerry lost.

I share the list with Andrea as soon as she wakes up. Good morning, sunshine! We're fucking doomed!

I know I'm overreacting. But I can't help it. I do some more writing. Andrea and I meet again when we're working out, talk some more. Nothing is decided. It's way too soon.

I decide not to go into the office. I need to talk. Talk! I must find my compatriots. The ones I disappointed by not showing up again at midnight. It's easy to round them up, and we meet again in St. Louis, the core group: Joey, John, Mike and me. Everyone's drinking again. And laughing, of course, because that's what we do.

Lots more laughing. Lots more joking. Lots more gallows humor.

On most of the TVs, it's sports, but over there in the corner--Arghh, Bush is speaking! It must be the victory speech. I look at the TV out of the corner of my eye, try to work up some goodwill. Some generosity. Some enthusiasm for my President. But it's hard. Hard!

Hey, am I hyperventilating? Is it possible I might pass out?

Time for another round. It's very obvious it's going to be a long day. One of those five-hour lunches. We talk some about our law firms. We're the "trial lawyers," you know. The "greedy plaintiffs' lawyers." The ones who are driving the doctors to Alaska. The ones who want to eat your children. You know, the targets. But hell, we give the Republicans their due: they won. All that dirty stuff: that's the way the game is played. After all, we contribute to Democrats. That's what plaintiffs' lawyers do--the Democratic viewpoint is the one that helps our clients. And that's why the Republicans want to take us out. You know, cut off the spigot. Watch us bleed.

We talk about what's going to happen now. What kind of tort "reform" we can expect. The consensus: Some things will change, some things won't. Meanwhile, we'll stay the course. There's plenty in our pipelines. Our clients depend on us. We're smart. We're well capitalized. We're fun.

We order another round of beers. It's a day unlike any other. We lost, but we didn't lose. Today, we'll talk about it. Tomorrow, the fight will continue.