Last week marked twenty-one years since my father was alive and yet he lives with me every day. Having practiced law with him for ten years, I had the great privilege of knowing him not only as my father but also as my mentor, my colleague, my partner and my friend.
My now grown son reminds me of my father as he echoes my dad’s creative, quintessentially intellectual curiosity as well as the irreverent, sometimes contrarian and often quirky sense of humor he had. Yet as my son recently said to me history doesn’t repeat itself so much as it rhymes. I like the idea of it rhyming… similarities and dissonance, the juxtaposition between what’s been and what has yet to become.
In his effort to help me learn how to make constructive use of social media as it applies to my work, my son has been patiently trying to help me understand the positive uses of my Twitter account while avoiding its many rabbit holes. Branding and marketing and how all of that applies to 21st century lawyering somehow brought us to a conversation of my father and his form of being memorable (aka branding). His appearance was a lot like that of the KFC Colonel Sanders, and he embraced that look and enjoyed “the colonel” moniker he earned amongst a certain subset of his friends and colleagues. When telling my son about that aspect of my father’s “look”, my son told me how the Colonel Sanders Twitter account was unique in that he/it only followed 11 Herbs and The Spice Girls (as in “our chicken has 11 herbs and spices”); exactly my father’s sense of humor and an odd way that his memory rhymes for me.
Having grown up during the great depression and experienced the loss of wealth, my dad had enormous compassion for people who were disadvantaged. He had great respect for the rule of law, encouraged me to recognize the humanity of all players in a Courtroom and instructed me to remember that the Judge is just somebody else’s son (there weren’t many women on the bench when I started practicing). He believed in the adversarial trial process, rigor in the Courtroom and a client’s right to excellent representation. With that backdrop and in his memory, I’d like to tell you my recollection of going to Court with my dad soon after I had passed the Bar but was not yet sworn in as a Massachusetts attorney.
After arriving at the Courthouse, my father had an angina attack and (as was his habit) he popped a few nitroglycerin tablets to recalibrate his heart. I was concerned but didn’t think too much of it as I’d become accustomed to incidents like that. However, when the case was called, he stood up and told the Judge what had occurred asking simultaneously if having passed the bar but not having been sworn in, I could be allowed to try the case under his supervision. The judge simply looked at me and said, “proceed counselor”. I looked at my dad with incredulity, my reactions and words constrained by the circumstances. I knew the case and client well, so without much choice and with great trepidation I called our client to the witness stand and began my line of questioning.
After asking my first question, opposing counsel (whose cantankerous reputation preceded him) stood and screamed (or so it seemed) “Objection Your Honor”. Overruled said the Judge. Second question: Objection Your Honor. Overruled said the Judge. Third question: Objection… “Sidebar” bellowed the Judge. Trembling before him I was certain I was about to be disbarred before I’d even been admitted. Instead, the Judge looked at me and asked if I was afraid of him. In a quivering voice I told him I was not. Turning to opposing counsel he asked the same question to which the lawyer firmly replied, “I am not”. The Judge, looking at him sternly said, “Well you should be… one more objection and you’ll be sanctioned”. Pivoting to me the Judge said “You’re doing a fine job. Now get out there and try this case.” Just somebody else’s son, a son with compassion and intelligence and integrity.
The experience felt a bit like being thrown into the deep end as a novice-swimmer. When a few weeks later we received a favorable judgment, I felt relief for the client, gratitude for the judge, and thankful my father had confidence in me at a time I questioned it in myself.
