I typically write these columns, and go through the mail, on Sunday afternoons. Sunday is fantastic at the Levison Towers if you like spending time at a ghost town. This past Sunday, I took a break from the cricket-less silence to turn on the television for a minute.
The red state map on TV shocked this liberal – until I realized it was the Weather Channel and not a political broadcast. (The weather has been in the triple digits for several days here in the Midwest, and the Weather Channel graphic was mocking as much as documenting.) I was even more shocked a few hours later, however, when the Towers were bustling with interns. The lure of free air conditioning was apparently stronger than the promise of a quiet Sunday at home.
If Sunday was surprising, the week that followed was enlightening. I met two men at opposite ends of a legal career. Both of them moved me.
I answered a docket call in a rural jurisdiction and visited for a few moments with the bailiff after my hearing. He was a young man with a military style haircut, nonplussed by the heat. I commented on the enormous amount of gear he was wearing – a bulletproof vest and duty belt which must have weighed over 30 pounds. He surprised me by commenting on the motion I had just argued.
Bailiffs are usually a cynical group. It is hard to shock these folks who have literally seen almost everything in the courtroom. From the worst criminal cases to the most heart wrenching domestic matters, the bailiff watches human drama unfold every day. They don’t often pay attention to civil motions, as civil lawyers aren’t much of a security threat and our dockets are rarely more interesting than watching paint dry. His comment on the logic of my opponent’s argument (I won for a change) showed me that he was not only paying attention but that he had gotten to the heart of the matter, as certainly as the judge had.
He told me that he is completing college and intends to go to law school. This after a stint in the military and time as a road cop. The look on my face must have told him what most middle-aged lawyers readily admit – law school looks like a silly investment these days. Young graduates are saddled with staggering debt and have few job prospects.
Still, I kept my thoughts to myself, and put the best smile on my contorted face, ending our conversation with the standard “good luck on your journey.” He replied, “luck is what you need in Las Vegas. I don’t need luck. I have drive.” I am guessing this young man doesn’t take the easy way out. He will be a fine lawyer. Folks with drive typically are.
Earlier in the week, I heard a fine lawyer speak. In fact, he’s one of my idols. I have written about Tom Strong in these pages before. If you were casting a movie about amazing trial lawyers, Mr. Strong would not get a call back audition to play himself. He looks much younger than an octogenarian should, but nothing else about his appearance stands out. He is soft-spoken. He drips sincerity when he speaks. He is the antithesis of the television lawyer.
Mr. Strong spoke at our annual trial lawyers convention and read from his forthcoming book, “Strong Advocate, The Life of a Trial Lawyer.” The book tells about his life and unlikely trial successes in conservative and then rural Greene County Missouri.
When Mr. Strong stood to speak, the room instantly hushed. Giving a speech in front of some of the finest orators in Missouri would be a nightmare for most, yet Strong had the group huddled around like children at a campfire. In between anecdotes and trial tips, he read from his manuscript, always with the introduction, “reading from my book.” This affectation would’ve seemed corny for many speakers. For Mr. Strong, it was honest and compelling. By the third repetition, many of us wanted to say, “thanks be to Tom” in our best church voices.
Mr. Strong was a pioneer in the use of demonstrative evidence. He was reenacting car crashes and bringing mock ups of defective machines to the courtroom long before it was common. He was quick to point out that a trial in his day proceeded without formal discovery. I think he was tongue-in-cheek when he complained of trial by ambush, as I am confident he was more often the ambusher than the ambushee.
Mr. Strong’s stories were entertaining, but they were more than just that. His soft voice pushed us to work hard and think outside the box for our clients. He views the law as an honorable calling, and though he has been well paid for his services, that seemed an afterthought. He told us time and again of hopeless cases and how he often won by refusing to lose. There was not self-aggrandizement but humility in his voice. He seemed truly embarrassed at the standing ovation after his presentation ended – too soon for many of us. If trial lawyers could be evangelized, Strong would be Pope.
This wasn’t the first time I heard Tom Strong speak. That occurred when I was a young lawyer. He was a banquet keynote speaker. I looked across the table at another young lawyer from my firm. Her eyes were misty. So were mine. His stories and passion for the profession still move me.
Drive and humility are often mutually exclusive among trial attorneys. Neither can be taught. Great trial attorneys possess both. I was fortunate to meet two individuals blessed with those attributes in the same week.
©2012 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, Mo. “Strong Advocate” is available for pre-order online. Comments or criticisms about this column may be sent c/o this newspaper or directly to the Levison Group via email at comments@levisongroup.com.