Throughout my career, I have learned a lot from my “adversaries.” One such adversary was the late great Ross D’Apice, a Brooklyn defense attorney and legend who passed away several years ago.
Lying in my bed in this hill town two hours southeast of Kathmandu, I wake each morning to ritual. Around 5:30 a.m., birdsong rises from the nearby forest. An hour later comes bell ringing and the long, plaintive note of a conch shell. Incense drifts, faintly, through my window from the small Hindu temple where Shiva, the guesthouse chef and the temple’s namesake, performs his daily prayers. Hindu and Buddhist practitioners have performed similar rites for hundreds of years in this polytheistic Himalayan nation.
Lawyers are told that advancement follows performance. For many, it doesn’t. Across the profession, lawyers enter at high levels, perform well and build strong practices. Yet at the point where professional success is supposed to translate into real power—equity, client control, compensation—the numbers narrow quickly.
Does anybody think Humpty Dumpty took his fall off the wall lying down? No way. Mr. Dumpty actually commenced a lawsuit seeking compensation as a result of injuries suffered. I recently came across a copy of a little-known decision of the High Court of Wonderland, which I would like to share.
It was the first day of the semester of law school. There was excitement in the air. I was happy to be back. I love the start of a new semester. There were nervous faces, too. Some anxiety, especially among the 1Ls. I was sitting in my office; 20 minutes until my 1L class would begin. I usually keep the door open when I’m in my office. I like the noise. I like to talk to my colleagues. It’s welcoming to students. And I don’t mind interruptions.
Most networking advice recommends approaching conversations with a clear objective, a prepared elevator pitch and a defined outcome in mind. I took a different approach. I set a goal but did not follow a strict agenda.
The legal profession is in the middle of a quiet but very impactful structural shift. In Arizona, alternative business structures have created a regulated pathway for multidisciplinary ownership and innovation. In the rest of the country, management services organizations have emerged as an accepted preferred model for delivering operational sophistication while staying within the boundaries of ABA Model Rule 5.4.
“Some conversations should come with a ‘drafts’ folder.” —Unknown As a single man in his mid-30s, I am very much acquainted with the familiar woes and occasional absurdities of modern dating. In an era where first impressions are made with a swipe, personal identities are now showcased beneath a photo…
At the end of a long workday, I watched the last plaintiff come to the podium. On my right, her boy and girl wandered into the courtroom, hovering on the sidelines, looking out the window, listening, turning their backs to us, as if by making us invisible to them, they were making themselves invisible to us. I thought they wanted to hear her tell their story. They were restless, and so was I. The baby settled in her mother’s left arm, and its neck relaxed backward over her elbow, drifting to sleep. And her story, which had been closeted and contained for so long, began to unfold.
In 2018, an Arizona lawyer with an incurable disease shared his biggest regret: He hadn’t listened well enough. This might be a common misgiving among lawyers, whose verbal skills are often more highly developed than their listening abilities.
The ABA Journal wants to host and facilitate conversations among lawyers about their profession. We are now accepting thoughtful, non-promotional articles and commentary by unpaid contributors.
