In New York, small law firms represent people, medium sized law firms represent small businesses, and large law firms represent corporations. My first job was with a firm so small it didn’t have any clients. The firm specialized in the rules of solitaire and cemetery matters.
I finally landed a job with the biggest firm in New York. This firm represented conglomerates, nations, continents, and planets. I worked on a dispute between Europe and America as to who owned the Atlantic Ocean. I shall never forget the day I triumphantly announced to the Senior Partner that I had worked out a favorable settlement of the case. America was to get all the water in the ocean and Europe would get all the fish. To this day, I am mystified as to how I survived the 20 story fall from his office window.
I then moved to suburban, rustic, bucolic, beautiful, Connecticut. The contrasts between the practice of law in New York and Connecticut are worthy of note. The complexities of the rules of procedure in New York enabled the court clerks to reject every paper I ever attempted to file. As I entered the Clerk’s office there would be audible snickering followed by the question of whether I was there on a social visit or wasting my time trying to file a pleading. I would invariably trip over the imperceptible fishing line strung across the doorway, jamming my hand in the staple machine and strewing my papers about the floor. There would be hissing and catcalls as I gathered my files and beat a retreat from the court.
On my first visit to the clerk’s office in Connecticut, he invited me in for coffee and Danish pastry. As we reviewed my pleadings, he politely indicated where I had failed to comply with Connecticut procedure. He then retyped all my papers in conformity with the rules, filed them, and plied me with more pastry.
In New York, the lawyers would eye each other suspiciously as they entered the dark and dismal courtroom in their three-piece suits - the third piece being a bulletproof vest. If they ate lunch together, they would always be accompanied by food tasters. The Bar Association decided not to use Robert’s Rules of Order for its meetings feeling that it would be better to adopt the regulations for Demolition Derby.
In Connecticut, the lawyers entered the courtroom arm-in-arm, embracing, laughing, smiling, happy to be together. Many came up to me and offered their hands, their help, pencils, pads, and erasers. Several offered to let me represent their clients, and one asked me to witness a change in his will in which he named me as his executor.
The Judges in New York always assumed the bench amid an air of profound gloom. Their faces reflected inflamed hemorrhoids. Their rulings, though scholarly, had the odor of undigested chili.
In Connecticut, the Judges demonstrated collective adherence to the school of Leo Busgalia. Before donning their robes they would enter the court, shake hands all around, and offer advice, words of encouragement and inspiration, and small cash advances.
When my case was called for argument the Judge advised me that my opponent was his son-in-law. He asked if I wished to disqualify him. I bravely agreed to allow his honor to hear the case and began my plea. As my argument progressed, I could see the futility and hopelessness of my case. I used every rhetorical device at my command, neither of which worked, and I finally sat down in a state of abject misery. My opponent then arose and conceded that he had no rejoinder to the brilliant and compelling points I had made. The Judge heartily agreed, and ruled in my favor, offering to have his ruling suitably engraved and framed free of charge.
Well, tonight the Connecticut Bar Association is throwing a large dinner in my honor. I have advised my food taster that his services will no longer be required
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