November 2001

Two Cents’ Worth

by Mark A. Panitch, Bar News Editor

This month, Spokane lawyer Carl Hueber writes about appreciating each moment, coping with unbearable loss, and looking forward with hope to Thanksgivings to come.

When he received the 2001 WSBA President’s Award at the recent WSBA awards dinner, Randy Gordon — Bellevue lawyer, professor and frequent Bar News contributor — mused on what it means to be a country that was literally invented by lawyers. As we grapple with our collective identity as lawyers, Randy gives us some essential perspective on who we are.

Both pieces were written before September 11, but both seem particularly poignant and appropriate now. In the aftermath of the September 11th tragedy, as we look for personal strength for ourselves and political strength for our country, these essays offer two essentials — hope and perspective.

The staff of Bar News wishes our members and their families a happy and healthy Thanksgiving.

Carl Hueber writes: I spent most of my youth perfecting my skills as an underachiever. My folks were concerned I would never make it through high school, and started putting money away to buy me a gas station.

Someone changed my direction. Her name was Kellie Craigen. She had red hair and Irish blood. We met in high school, dated through college, and were married shortly after graduation. I had always dreamed of being a lawyer; Kellie helped me realize I could reach my goal. With her support, I made it through law school. We often talked of her one-half interest in my degree.

We both built our careers. Despite the occasional warning to not use "that lawyer voice," she was proud of my profession. She didn’t think lawyer jokes were funny. Kellie was at her best with our home filled with friends, most of them lawyers.

In 1995, life was as good as it could get. We celebrated our 20th anniversary and 20th college reunion the same month. Kellie was pregnant with our second child, and we had figured out how to pay our bills while she took a few years off. We also learned that she had malignant melanoma. She delayed treatment until our son was born. Christopher was nine months old when we lost her.

My world was turned upside down. I learned a lot about life and myself during this time:

Family is not limited to blood relatives.
It is hard to find a masculine-looking diaper bag, and most restaurants only have a diaper-changing station in the women’s restroom.
Luck and devine intervention have everything to do with finding a good nanny.
I was fortunate to have partners who gave me all the support and time I needed.
Sometimes, a judge will call an attorney to the bench just to ask how he is doing.
Parents should not have to bury their children.
Sometimes, court staff will call to see if you need a continuance.
You need your kids as much as they need you.
Time really does heal all wounds, but it doesn’t do much for the scarring.

In my younger years, I had an occasional fantasy: I am at a large gathering in my honor — perhaps an investiture, awards dinner or retirement party. At the podium, I am eloquently speaking of how none of this would have been possible without Kellie. I never got to live my fantasy; cancer got in the way. I regret that I never took the time to publicly thank her — until now.

As you sit at your Thanksgiving table, take a look around. Is there someone there who was responsible for your becoming a lawyer? It might be a good time to say thanks.

Randy Gordon writes: My thanks to President Jan Eric Peterson for this award and his leadership. Ordinarily, my heart would be brimming over with happiness at receiving this award. But with the tragic events and loss of life of this week, I am heartsick. My heart is broken.

I have struggled to find words to share. It occurred to me that there are two types of durability: that of concrete and steel, slow to form, and difficult, but as we have seen, not impossible to break; and that of flowers — fragile, evanescent, yet resilient and enduring. America has both types of durability. There is plenty of concrete and steel. But the idea of America is not based on concrete and steel, and cannot be touched, even by acts as savage as those of September 11.

I have often said that the idea of America was invented by lawyers. This would not be much of an overstatement were we only to consider that 31 of the 55 members of the Constitutional Convention were lawyers. But, in addition, lawyers can also claim John Adams, that colossus of independence; Thomas Jefferson, the author of the Declaration of Independence; James Madison, the father of the Constitution; Abraham Lincoln and both the Union and Confederacy secretaries of war, Edwin Stanton and Judah Benjamin; roughly half the presidents; John Marshall and the justices of the Supreme Court; most of the Senate; and currently, about a third of the House of Representatives. Whenever constitutional rights arising under that raft of legal technicalities called the "Bill of Rights" are attacked, it is lawyers who defend them. These rights are not self-executing. Yet, as Senator Dow Constantine tells us, only nine out of 147 Washington legislators are lawyers. We can do better.

Ceneas, the emissary from King Pyrrhus to the Roman Senate, was asked upon his return what the Senate was like. He replied that it was an "assemblage of kings." I value this award from my colleagues in the Bar as being received from an "assemblage of kings."

We lawyers have nearly forgotten ourselves. And that is how my effort to undertake the tug of war over lawyers’ public image began: to help us remember ourselves. It was somewhat like the story of the man standing outside the gates of Sodom holding a sign saying: "Repent." He was approached and told: "These people won’t change. You’re wasting your time." The man replied: "I do not hold the sign to change them, but to keep myself from being changed."

Imagine going to plumbing school for three years and being told all about pipes and joints and welds and fixtures, but never being told about water. They call this law school. For we teach about laws and statutes and rules, but do not teach the fundamental fact that just as plumbing is a water-delivery system, law is a justice-delivery system. And where does the justice come from? It comes from the hearts and conscience of lawyers, from that touchstone of individual conscience mentioned in our Rules of Professional Conduct.

So now you understand why it is that I believe that those who attack lawyers are attacking the water supply, poisoning the reservoir, attacking the justice-delivery system — why it is I am proud to accept this President’s Award for my work on behalf of our profession, and why I am proud to be a lawyer.

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