The Legal Underground

Living with a Lawyer, Part IV of "An Introduction to Lawyers for Those Who Have Not Yet Had the Pleasure of Being Introduced: An Essay in Four Parts"

Part I: An Introduction to the Typical Lawyer

Part II: How to Feed a Lawyer

Part III: How to Dress a Lawyer

Part IV: Living with a Lawyer

This final section of the essay is very easy to write. In a word, don't. And if you're reading this final section only because you're wondering how my invitation to Hollywood is going, which, after all, is the real reason for this four-part essay, take a look at my brief introduction, where this question is answered, at least for now.

PARALYZED WITH FEAR AS I START MY DAY . . . Just a week ago spinach was one of my favorite foods. Now a single bite will do me in. I've given it up, probably forever. Even worse, I've replaced it with brussel sprouts. Brussel sprouts tend to give me nightmares. Last night was no exception. If Katie Couric wasn't bad enough, I also dreamt about peak oil, bird flu, and the rising crime rate. Tossing and turning like I did, it's no wonder I didn't get enough sleep. And you know what that means. Obesity, allergies, even diabetes. Yes, friends, my days are numbered. It's no surprise I woke up in a foul mood. How can I find joy in life when I know I'm going to die? It's not easy. Even so, I thought I'd give it a try. I rose from bed determined to enjoy the day, especially since it might be my last. But then I stepped outside. It was damp and chilly. You can probably guess what I was thinking. Sure it's pretty cold out here, and I really should be wearing a jacket, but isn't it just a little less cold than I'd been expecting? Yes, it was. It was a little less cold. And you know what that means. Global warming. So much for enjoying the day. Already my mind was reeling. How was I going to face up to the shock of seeing my best friends' beach homes slowly recede into the ocean? And where would I vacation? No, it wasn't any good. The day was off to a horrible start. That's when I started thinking about STDs. There's an epidemic, you know. Sure I'm monogamous, but is she? It's just about impossible to peer inside the dim chambers of another human heart. Besides that, we live in a house with a garage. That means nothing for STDs, but the garage is pretty far from the rest of the house. It would be no trouble at all for terrorists to hold meetings there in the middle of the night. Terrorism is everywhere, you know. Of course you did. But I have some news for you that's even worse, which I heard on CNN just last week: the anthrax killer is still at large. So is bin Laden, for that matter. From what I've read, the West won't survive. But not because of terrorism. President Bush has that covered. The real threat is immigration. Standing on my back porch, conceiving this weblog post, I decided that would be my message to you today: immigration is going to do us in. Pretty much all that's left to do is sit at home and count your money. What's left of it, that is. After factoring in inflation. And the certainty of a housing crash. And the cruel reality of the litigation tax.

Oh, what the hell. Maybe I should just eat my spinach. Just a single bite to end it all . . . really so much better than the alternatives.

How I Became A Famous Weblogger and Achieved Rock Star Status as a Lawyer

One of the best known and most linked-to blogs in the country is the eclectic Evan Schaeffer's Legal Underground, formerly known as Notes From The (Legal) Underground.

--Helen W. Gunnarsson in “Do We Blawg and How?” (Illinois Bar Journal 5/06)

I've talked about various components of an effective leader brand. But how does all of this leader branding stuff work in real life to gain notoriety, worldwide recognition and, most importantly, paying clients? Allow me to introduce Evan Schaeffer.

--Vicki Kunkel in “How to Achieve Rock Star Status as a Lawyer” (Jolt! 6/06)

I first noticed I was becoming famous sometime last year. It was time to renew my license plates and I was standing in line at the Department of Motor Vehicles. The line wrapped around the inside of the building and out into the street. A half hour passed, then an hour. I was getting very frustrated. But then a woman wearing a Department of Motor Vehicles badge came over and told me I was standing in the wrong line. She said I was standing in the line reserved for new drivers’ licenses. I must have made a pretty surly-looking face, because right away she got all defensive. “Hey, I’m sorry you’re in the wrong line,” she said. “It’s just that I saw the documents in your hand and they’re not the right documents. Not for this line, anyway.”

In retrospect, I wish I would have thanked her. Instead, I just glared and moved over to the next line. It was even longer than the first. Standing in that line provided me with lots of time to think about what had just happened. She’d seen the documents in my hand. There was something odd about that. Why had she been looking at my documents? Why had she been looking at my hand? I didn’t think it was merely a lucky break. It was something more than that. That’s when it hit me. It was my weblog. The lady wasn’t just an anonymous bureaucrat from the Department of Motor Vehicles. She was a fan of Legal Underground. Hallelujah!

That’s how it started. For lots of people, it probably would have been enough. Setting up a weblog is one thing, but getting an actual person to read it is quite another. Believe me, it’s no easy achievement. My achievement was even more noteworthy since my first reader was pretty high up in the government. Of course, my case was only circumstantial. But why else had the woman singled me out to switch lines? As everyone knows, good looks can only get you only so far. That’s especially true if you’re a lawyer. And good looks don’t get you anywhere at the Department of Motor Vehicles. That’s why I was pretty sure the woman’s attentions meant my weblog had finally taken off.

Of course, one reader didn’t mean much. Not to me, anyway. I was shooting higher. Much higher. I was going for rock star status.

How to Dress a Lawyer, Part III of "An Introduction to Lawyers for Those Who Have Not Yet Had the Pleasure of Being Introduced: An Essay in Four Parts"

Part I: An Introduction to the Typical Lawyer

Part II: How to Feed a Lawyer

Part III: How to Dress a Lawyer

There is a primary rule to keep in mind about dressing lawyers. With very few exceptions, lawyers should be dressed. This is not meant to be a criticism of lawyers that aren't dressed, but merely a realistic assessment of what it is that gives lawyers their firepower. It's their brains, not their sex appeal.

The rule about keeping lawyers dressed applies not only to lawyers per se, but also to judges. That judges should be dressed is best illustrated by the custom of clothing judges in floor-length robes. This custom would be meaningless if there weren't some danger in coming face to face with an unrobed judge.

There's a story that further illustrates my point. I'm thinking of a jurist I'll call Judge Miller. Judge Miller wasn't just any judge; he was a federal judge. As such, Judge Miller had acquired many of those unusual tics and quirks that give federal judges such an air of rarified extraordinariness. Judge Miller never talked about his status as a widower, for example, wouldn't reveal his first name, and made sure never to be seen at a grocery store shopping for anything but red wine or coffee filters.

How to Feed a Lawyer, Part II of "An Introduction to Lawyers for Those Who Have Not Yet Had the Pleasure of Being Introduced: An Essay in Four Parts"

Part I: An Introduction to the Typical Lawyer

Part II: How to Feed a Lawyer

Let’s establish something right from the start. While Part I of this Introduction to Lawyers suffered from a serious fault--specifically, it failed to take lawyers seriously and treated them in an overly-comic manner--I was fully aware of this problem as I was writing. Part I was designed as a sort of comic “hook” meant to sugarcoat this essay for readers who have trouble paying attention. Now that we have advanced to Part II, however, there will be no further sugarcoating. It's not only the sugarcoating that's going to end right here, but also the blood and gore, which was another thing I added to Part I to get around the fact that lawyers, unless they happen to have been recently indicted, just aren’t all that entertaining.

What I’m trying to say is that anyone who came here seeking some lighthearted entertainment should probably return to Part I. Frankly, that’s what I would do if given a choice. If you fail to heed my warning and decide to stick around for the rest of this essay, I suggest you put on your thinking cap. You're going to need it.

So, how does one feed a lawyer? Over the years, most commentators have found it nearly impossible to generalize about a lawyer’s eating habits. Some lawyers, for example, like eggs, while other lawyers find eggs disgusting. Consider my own situation. Although I like eggs, whenever I dig into a runny yellow yolk I can’t help thinking that it’s also how snakes get their nourishment. Yuck. What makes the mental exercise of generalization even more difficult is that some egg-loving lawyers only like them when they are cooked a certain way. As most know already, there are a variety of ways to cook eggs. There are poached eggs, fried eggs, and scrambled eggs. There are hard-boiled eggs. There are soft-boiled eggs. There is eggnog. How is one to generalize in the face of such a list?

An Introduction to Lawyers for Those Who Have Not Yet Had the Pleasure of Being Introduced: An Essay in Four Parts

Part I: An Introduction to the Typical Lawyer

First and foremost, a lawyer is a professional, although probably not the kind you’re thinking. Take Smith. Smith was a lawyer, yet he could never be counted on to arrive on time. Usually, he was always at least ten minutes late. While ten minutes is in keeping with the standards of most professionals, Smith would also routinely show up at the wrong place. Frequently, that place was a bar. While it could have been any bar, and often it was, it was almost always a bar that was quite a distance from Smith’s scheduled meeting.

At this point in the essay, it might be appropriate to consider how far we have come. Unfortunately, we haven’t come far. What we have at this point in our “introduction to lawyers” is nothing but a lawyer named Smith—dressed in a sports coat and a stained red tie, loosened at the neck—who happens to be sitting in a bar. He’s having quite a time, too, winking at the waitresses, high-fiving all his buddies (many of whom he just met), and ordering another round “for the house.” He’s completely forgotten his meeting. But as is typical of most lawyers, it was only with the best of intentions. Smith, after all, always demands the best for his clients, just as he does for himself. That’s why for Smith, it’s nothing but single-malt Scotch or, in a pinch, Johnnie Walker Black Label.

Is it fair to other lawyers to dwell on Smith? If this were one of those essays meant to denigrate lawyers—that is, intended to mock, criticize, and disparage one of the highest callings our country has to offer its young citizens—it would be easy enough to kill Smith off in the next sentence of this essay. Having gorged himself on spicy chicken wings, we could have Smith suffer a sudden and unexpected heart attack. More gruesome still, we could have him reach around to pinch the backside of a cute female bar patron, but then lose his balance, fly backwards, and gash his head on the shiny gold clasp of a briefcase owned by Jones, another lawyer at the bar. In this scenario, which perhaps we should just run with for awhile, Smith would get bravely to his feet and announce he was “just fine.” Lawyers are nothing if not brave, especially when they’re a little looped. Next, Smith would stumble outside, where he would either trip on the curb and bleed to death in the gutter, or be run over and killed by a nearsighted bike messenger heading in a blind panic for the courthouse before it closes.

Although the courthouse option would be more ironic, the gutter scenario would be more bloody, which would increase the likelihood, however remote, that this essay will be purchased by a Hollywood movie studio. So we’ll go with the graphic first option—Smith will bleed to death.

Before you object that this ending to our story is unjustifiably cruel, you should understand that it is, in fact, the ending that would be most favored by those stuffy and uptight “associations” of lawyers like the American Bar Association, the National Association of Retail Collection Attorneys, or the National Association of College and University Attorneys. Known respectively as the ABA, the NARCA, and the NACUA, associations like these are notoriously out of keeping with the times. To use an analogy, such associations are to the typical lawyer what Patsy Cline is to the rap star Eminem. That is, they are much better dressed, always quick to smile, and so unstained by controversy that they obviously hail from another era. Above all else, associations like these don’t want anyone, particularly other lawyers, admitting in public that many “in the practice” really like their booze.

But most lawyers do like their booze. It’s as fine an introduction to lawyers as any that has ever been written, as long as you understand that it is only an introduction, and that the much more serious analysis is still to come.

Coming Soon: Part II How to Feed a Lawyer

A Satisfying Hobby, One in an Ongoing Series of Essays on "Things Important to Every Lawyer"

When I was a boy growing up in the suburbs, I was fascinated by the common area that separated my subdivision from the next one over, with its mile-wide stand of deep woods, layers of decaying leaves, and hidden creeks and ponds. It’s where my friends and I built our first forts, started our first fires, and pretended to smoke our first cigarettes. It’s where we hunted for animals like possums, hedgehogs, and snakes. Especially snakes.

Although I said I was fascinated with the woods, it was really the snakes that fascinated me. By the time I’d finished the third grade, I had a shelf lined with books about snakes, many of those filled with colorful photos of other exotic reptiles like alligators and Gila monsters. I had another shelf filled with the items I used as snake-hunting equipment— gloves, a golf putter, and an empty pillowcase. On my dresser was an aquarium I’d filled with the garter snakes I’d caught with my friends. Although I suffered many of the typical problems of youth—most particularly, a dread at having to memorize spelling words—I could always drift off into my hobby of snake-collecting when things became too difficult.

As I got older, my interest in snakes gave way to other hobbies—astronomy, photography, guitar-playing, song-writing, record collecting—until seemingly overnight, at least as I look back on it, I wasn’t memorizing spelling words anymore, but legal rules. Three years of that and I was back in the world of snakes, having seemingly come full circle.

In my maturation from boy to lawyer, another thing that didn't change was my need for a satisfying hobby. For lawyers trying to remain both sane and happy, which I think describes most lawyers, a satisfying hobby is a necessity. It is not an overstatement, in fact, to say that all lawyers should have a satisfying hobby, and that any lawyer who doesn’t is flirting with madness. By way of example, it might be helpful to consider a lawyer I’ll call Richard. On the outside, Richard seemed perfectly ordinary, at least for a lawyer. He was of medium height, slightly overweight, and wore glasses. The only clue that Richard might be harboring a secret, life-altering tension was a nervous tic that made him appear, every so often, to be biting at the air. Even with this tic, however, Richard had a thriving and successful law practice built around his special ability of convincing appellate courts that it had been wrong for trial courts to certify class actions against his clients, most of which were auto companies.

A Giant Brain, One in an Ongoing Series of Essays on “Things Important to Every Lawyer”

By necessity, all lawyers must have a giant brain, a point that is best illustrated by the story of a lawyer I'll call Dan.  An overweight but nimble man of 350 pounds, Dan was a lawyer without a giant brain.  Sure, he was bright enough—he passed the bar exam, for example.  But even so, Dan’s brain was just too small for him to excel in the legal profession.  How did I know?  I knew because of something he told me just after he became a licensed lawyer: namely, that after twenty-six years of being teased about his weight, he was looking forward to the way everyone would now be able to look past his rolls of fat and admire and respect him simply because he’d become a lawyer.

How ironic, I remember thinking, that such a gigantic body could be home to such a tiny brain.  Admire and respect him because he was a lawyer?  When Dan uttered those words, I had to chew on my knuckles to keep from laughing.  Then my knuckles gave way and I really did laugh.  But my hand was still in my mouth and Dan thought I was trying to retrieve a bit of a chicken wing that had become lodged in my throat.  If I hadn’t have come to my senses and stopped him before he tightened the grasp he had assumed around my chest, Dan would have killed me with the Heimlich maneuver.  But I broke free, and it only made me laugh some more.  Dan, on the other hand, didn’t laugh at all.  For such a jolly-looking fellow, he never really did have much of a sense of humor.

Part II of the Circle of Advisors, One of an Ongoing Series of Essays on "Things Important to Every Lawyer"

Part I: Considering Drake

Part II: The Circle of Advisors Compared and Contrasted to Various Imposter Groups

How can you distinguish the circle of advisors from the many imposter groups for which it is so often mistaken? The answer to that important question is the subject of the final part of this essay.

There are four groups that commonly masquerade as a circle of advisors: The gaggle of yes-men, the group of drinking buddies, the posse, and the entourage. To illustrate the strengths and weaknesses of each, we’ll consider a lawyer I’ll call Bert. Like many lawyers, Bert has been called upon to make an important, life-altering decision while out of town in Las Vegas. His dilemma is this: It’s time to return to Minneapolis, but he’s down more than $15,000. Given another day of hard gambling, Bert could easily recoup these losses. But if he sticks around, he’ll miss the baptism of his niece. He's been asked to be the godfather. Should Bert stay an extra day?

To answer that question, let’s imagine Bert turns for advice to each of the four imposter groups.

The Circle of Advisors, One of an Ongoing Series of Essays on "Things Important to Every Lawyer"

Part I: Considering Drake

There’s a story about a lawyer, well known in my part of the country.  I’ll call him Drake.  A born entrepreneur, Drake ran a successful personal injury firm.  Drake’s practice was so successful, in fact, that his biggest problem was where to purchase his next vacation home.  He couldn’t decide between Aspen or Hartford, Connecticut.  It was an important decision, but not the sort of lives-hanging-in-the-balance decision to which Drake had become accustomed to making as a big-time personal injury lawyer.  As he played one realtor off another, negotiating like the pro that he was, Drake reported to his friends that he was becoming bored with his life.  He made this unexpected claim with just a hint of self-pity, tipping his head slightly to the left and then looking down at the floor.  It wasn’t an easy thing to watch.   

It was at about this time that our local federal court announced a job opening for U.S. Magistrate.  Given Drake’s unmistakable signs of distress, it’s no wonder that all his friends urged him to apply.  Then something unexpected happened.  Drake was thrown into such a fit of indecision about this sudden opportunity—should he apply for the magistrate position, or not—that he did nothing for weeks.  The thing that worried him the most, of course, was the possibility that he would apply for the job and then lose out to someone his colleagues considered “inferior.”  What would that do to his reputation?  This was the question Drake posed to his closest friends at the local tavern where they would meet in the late afternoons every day after work.