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.
Your client emails before you finish your first coffee. Attached is a chatbot’s analysis of the law and a proposed strategy for the case. By midmorning, you have used AI yourself—comparing documents, cutting through pages of judicial prose, producing a sharper draft in minutes. You are faster than you were last year, and your work product looks better. But something else has changed. The clock on your profession has started running faster.
I graduated from the University of Missouri School of Law 50 years ago in May 1976, and I have been a law professor for 40-plus years. During my years as a law student, as an attorney and as a law professor, I have come to regard several attorneys among those I consider my heroes.
On my 81st birthday, I found myself back in the courtroom, cross-examining a defendant and his ballistics experts in a murder trial—an unexpected chapter after winding down my practice as a senior litigation partner at Thompson Coburn. The experience underscored the reality facing many prosecutors today: While the nature of violent crime and defenses has changed, the need for hands-on training from experienced prosecutors has not.
On my first day of practice, I bought a leather armchair that I fully intended to use forever. Retirement was something that happened to senior partners, disgruntled lawyers or cranky old judges. Years later, I realized Shakespeare had already mapped it out.
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.
