What is it like to practice law as a solo practitioner? Short answer: It’s a bit different than working at BigLaw.

I actually spent my year after graduating from the McGill University Faculty of Law in a practical apprenticeship as an articling student at a BigLaw firm in downtown Toronto. I initially had hoped and expected to be invited back as an associate upon getting called to the bar of Ontario in the mid-1970s. The firm had some blue-chip clients, including banks and a number of mining companies. But after my student internship was completed, all I got was a handshake from a junior partner along with a “good luck.”

I think their decision about not hiring me as a junior associate was in part due to the fact that I must have expressed minimal interest in their client base. I recall the reception area had magazines about the mining industry. Somebody must have noticed my raised eyebrows when I looked at one with a feature article on the front cover reading something like, “Does Mexico have adequate reserves of zinc?” Although I generally take the initiative, I certainly do not recall asking a senior partner whether he would like me to do research and provide him with a memo on the issue. Some biggie must have picked up on my modified rapture.

And so what were my options? I had lunch with my good mentor, Hank, a senior criminal lawyer. He asked if I considered going out on my own, solo. I recall his words, “Why would you want to be anybody’s underling?”

Then again, as much as I valued independence, I had some concerns. I recently had become a father, and I thought it might be beneficial if some money came in as, at least, I would earn a salary as an underling.

In addition, along with death and taxes, there was the third certainty to worry about: overhead.

I paid a visit to my bank manager. He was somewhat impressed with the fact that I spent some time at that BigLaw firm, and he agreed to offer me a line of credit. During the discussion, I did not disclose my lukewarm passion for mining companies or banks.

To save some expenses I rented a small office in a space-sharing situation with a couple of other lawyers who practiced real estate and corporate/commercial law. They undertook to send me some agency litigation work.

I recall my first day of practice. I got to the office, and my first impression was that as a solo, I was going to be fully on my own. I thought about a lighthouse keeper. I figured the main distinguishable feature between my downtown Toronto office and a lighthouse was the missing ocean.

As I was setting up some books and papers, one of the lawyers next door asked if I could meet with a client of his who recently had broken up with her husband. After a brief hesitation, I responded, “I think I can fit her in?”

The lady was pleasant, and her case had good potential. The little problem with her was that she was an avid smoker. I always hated smoke, but I thought in this instance, there might be some wisdom in sucking it up, literally. I thought about my newborn son, and I did not want to have to explain to him down the road why I could never afford to get him a bicycle. I even asked her what brand the cigarette was. Showing this interest in the client lead to her returning the compliment by offering me a cigarette. I graciously declined.

Fortunately, in time, my practice started to develop. I soon became friendly with a few nonlitigation lawyers, and they also referred some clients to me.

Advertising legal services was not alloed then. But then again, how would my ad read given that I was a total newbie? “Need a lawyer? Call me. I have minimal experience.”

But my litigation practice continued to grow, and I did not mind arriving daily to my lighthouse.

I did think about what working at BigLaw might have been like. I would have had some advantages. One plus in BigLaw is resources. These firms have extensive libraries. My book stash in my nook was a lot leaner. I recall the firm where I apprenticed having a copy of a book called something like The Law of Horses, 1908 edition. I never sprung to purchase this tome, though tempted.

Another plus is staff support. I would attend at a motion or trial or deposition, and it was not unusual for BigLaw to arrive with an entourage including an associate lawyer, a law clerk and a student. The only thing missing was the fanfare trumpets. I was there all alone. I somewhat identified with that Dickens character in Great Expectations, Miss Havisham. No problem.

BigLaw also often had access to to-die-for tickets at sporting events. I always had to watch hockey games on television if I wanted to see the Maple Leafs lose. Then again, I had friends in BigLaw who would say they had to pass on theses tickets often as they had to stay and work that evening. Which gets me to some BigLaw minuses.

First, there is the obsession to bill clients. The lawyers must have 1,800 or 2,000 or whatever billable hours in order to earn their keep. In my practice, I would arrive at the office after a leisurely breakfast, take my time enjoying lunch, then going for a brisk walk and leaving when and as I chose. And on occasion, I would even be the beneficiary of a pair of those hockey tickets from my BigLaw pal.

Another minus is the not uncommon lack of mentorship. The senior lawyers often are too busy or too disinterested in mentoring their juniors. Some of these lawyers would even call me with a legal question. I would be flattered and, of course, do my best to share my wisdom with them. I would ask why they couldn’t run it by some guru at their office, and they would say something like, “Are you kidding? I can’t show them that I don’t know.”

I saw their concern. They all want “to make partner.” And to make partner no doubt you can’t look like a blockhead.

And so would I recommend to a fresh lawyer going out on his or her own right off the bat?

I can’t say one way or the other. I am grateful that it worked out for me, and that I was able to practice independently for over four decades. But I think about a comment by Mark Twain who said, “All you need in life is ignorance and confidence; then success is sure.”

I was certainly ignorant.

Marcel Strigberger, after 40-plus years of practicing civil litigation in the Toronto area, closed his law office and decided to continue his humor writing and speaking passions. His latest book is First, Let’s Kill the Lawyer Jokes: An Attorney’s Irreverent Serious Look at the Legal Universe. Visit MarcelsHumour.com, and follow him at @MarcelsHumour on X, formerly known as Twitter.

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