When spring hits the Levison Towers, things get a little weird. Here in the Midwest, it is not uncommon to run both furnace and air conditioner on the same day. We get dressed for work like schizophrenics, with sweaters and tweed over short sleeved shirts. Mixing atmospheres on the same day, much like crossing the streams in “Ghost Busters,” is bad.
Lawyers and clients act unpredictably, leaving early on Wednesdays, working late on Fridays, missing appointments set weeks in advance.
I find myself lost in thought about fly fishing and hammock naps when I should be focused on motion practice and so on. Hopefully, things will stabilize soon.
Spring does bring a sense of rebirth. New law school graduates wonder what they will be doing when school ends in a few short weeks. The rest of us think of another question: What makes us do what we do? This question has been on my mind a lot lately. In fact, it has been on my mind since I was first asked the question years ago, at a cocktail party.
I was fresh out of law school, and eager to meet other lawyers. In my little hometown, there weren’t any lawyers. Plenty of us had cause to hire one, but none of us ever knew a lawyer until we had trouble. I remember being at a party where there was only one other lawyer. He was a white shoe cat who did contract work, and recoiled when I said I was a trial lawyer.
“Really? Aren’t trial lawyers the bottom of the food chain?” he asked. I honestly never thought about it that way. I had only been practicing a few months and would have rather been dragged behind a bus than draft documents for businesses.
Perhaps I shouldn’t have told him that. The ensuing conversation, I confess, was not particularly lawyerlike.
All law practice moves in a cycle, regardless of the specialty. Tax attorneys are in a panic the last half of March and first half of April as their frantic clients scurry to comply with a tax code that can only be comprehended by eastern mystics.
On April 16, the day after tax day, their lives resume normalcy.
Trial lawyers, on the other hand, have a series of panic attacks throughout the year. Instead of one tax day, we have several. They are called trial settings. These dates loom large on our calendars.
Unlike tax day, trial settings aren’t always set in stone. Cases get continued, or settled and the “big day” might never come. Our blood pressure escalates to meet each one nonetheless.
I recently prepared for two trials. They were scheduled in consecutive weeks. Had both cases gone to trial, I would have spontaneously combusted. Lawyers of old tried more cases in a year than I have in 20years. Those lawyers didn’t have to contend with “discovery.” (I don’t know why we call it discovery. Each side asks questions that the other tries hard to not answer, lest we make a mistake. If truth in advertising applied to law practice, we would call it “camouflage.” But I digress.)
Cases take years to prepare as each side toils to learn all of the facts of the case. Most of these facts turn out to be meaningless, by the way. But pity the poor lawyer who goes to trial without finding the one important fact buried in the haystack.
The weeks before my doubleheader flew by, other chores in the office were completed only to put out burning fires.
One of these cases had been continued twice. I knew it would be tried – but it wasn’t. The other case had “no chance of settlement.” Until it settled, right before trial.
The thrill of trial is what keeps a trial lawyer going through the drudgery of everyday paperwork. We like to trace our roots to gladiators and gunslingers for that reason. The easy distinction is that we live after our trials, of course. Mostly.
I tell everyone that I am not worth a darn after a trial, for four weeks if we lose, and six if we win. It is impossible to go back to sharpening swords and reloading bullets after being caught up in the heat and thrill of battle.
A loss requires reflection to avoid replication. It is harder to be introspective after a win.
After my two nontrials, I find myself with windfall time on my hands. My jacket is at the ready for when the air conditioning kicks in and the heater goes off this afternoon. There is a mound of paper on my desk which has some significance – and the trout that are biting. Somewhere.
©2011 under analysis llc. under analysis is a nationally syndicated column of the Levison Group. Spencer Farris is the founding partner of The S.E. Farris Law Firm in St Louis, Missouri. If you know of a good trout stream, or have other comments or criticisms about this column, write c/o this newspaper or directly to the Levison Group via email at comments@levisongroup.com.