November 2000

Proud to Be a Lawyer

by Jay Flynn

As part of a profession that is often reviled by the media, I sometimes have to sit back and reflect on the fact that, for the most part, the lawyers I have met during 20 years of practice have been genuinely good people trying to do the right thing. I have always felt that law by its nature attracts interesting, smart, sharp people.

Hollywood is a valid reflection of society's subconscious and, let's face it, Newman, Redford, Travolta, Cruise and Roberts are not going to be starring in any films about accountants or engineers (Julia Roberts in "The Pelican Spreadsheet"?). The entertainment industry knows that people, in general, consider attorneys to be good individuals no matter what may be outwardly said.

These days, it's tough to know all the attorneys in a small area like the Tri-Cities, where I practice, much less to get an idea of some of the great things they are doing. I can only imagine how difficult it is to get to know fellow attorneys in the Seattle area. In the coming months, I'd like to use this space to introduce you to members of the state Bar who remind me that we have a lot to be proud of in this profession.

I'm not necessarily talking about the big things we do that get lots of press or professional notoriety. I'm much more interested in the between-the-lines stuff. For example, I'm looking for the attorney who takes three afternoons off each week to coach, leaving a desk full of screaming client files behind, or the attorney who does the right thing in a case even when nobody will necessarily pat him on the back for it. In our everyday practices we run into attorneys who do things that cause us to stop and consider that we are rarely the brash, arrogant sharks we are so often portrayed to be.

As I am writing this article, the Torts Division of the Washington State Attorney General's Office has caught a lot of heat and is being portrayed poorly in rather broad brush strokes. Hearing pointed criticism of the office's attorneys by a politician the other day caused me to think of my last case with the Torts Division Office a couple of years ago.

My case was one of several involved in a tragic auto accident. The state's attorney was Bob Lipson, a very good trial attorney and honorable man who showed me during one deposition the proper way to practice law and conduct my life. The case was three-quarters of the way through, and it was time for my client's deposition. The client was one of those great people you like a lot and want to protect. However, since our case was one involving psychological damages, and there was some serious past psychological baggage which made my client an easy target to hammer on, she was fragile and panic-stricken. I tried my best to prepare her for what I felt would be an ugly three hours at the hands of Mr. Lipson. After all, he was from the Attorney General's Office, and they were reportedly taking everything to trial.

When the deposition ended, I was stunned. Bob had skillfully obtained the key information he needed quickly, without bullying, scaring, intimidating or pounding on my client regarding the juicy, but to me irrelevant, side issues. He was handed these issues on the silver platter of the client's psychological records, yet he gave up the golden opportunity to fly back to Seattle, walk into his office, and crow, "I destroyed Flynn's client."

After the deposition, I talked with Bob and told him that I truly appreciated the considerate manner in which he handled it, and that he could have done some long-term psychological damage to my client if he had taken another tack. Bob looked at me very matter-of-factly and said, "Jay, my job is to be an effective advocate for my client, but that doesn't mean I have to harm your client in the process." Now I'm thinking, "Wait a minute, Bob. Don't you want my client to be a mass of quivering flesh on the floor after this deposition?" We ended up settling the case at mediation for a moderate sum. Leaving the mediation, Bob gave his heartfelt wish that my client would recover from the incident and wished her well.

I've often reflected on this deposition and Bob's comments afterward. I called him the other day (we hadn't spoken since the case finished) and mentioned the deposition to him. He remembered the case well. He had the same thoughtful analysis on the practice of law and doing what's right. Most attorneys, he told me, are caring, intelligent people. The attorneys who have problems are those who do not stay in sync with their values. Once a lawyer stops listening to himself, he may serve his clients, but not his own values, and it becomes harder for the attorney to listen in other areas. The more a person takes time to stop and listen, the easier listening becomes, and the easier it is to know the right thing to do.

Okay, the guy was nice in a deposition, so what? Did he cure cancer? Did he develop a breakthrough legal theory? The answer is obviously no, but let's face it, that's not what most of us do in our everyday lives anyway. We have small chances each day to show the world that we are good people as well as good attorneys, not just advocates who will do anything to win.

Bob showed me during a one-hour deposition, in the middle of a hot August day, in a poorly air-conditioned conference room, on a "small potatoes" case, that you can be an effective attorney and a good person. He again reiterated what I already knew — that the majority of my legal brethren in Washington are good people trying to do the right thing in life as well as the law. People like Bob make me proud to be a lawyer.

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