Evolutions of a Law Practice - How I Opened My Own Practice Right Out of Law School

Chapter 1

Starting Out

 

I opened my own law practice right out of law school in 1982. I’ve never had a traditional lawyer job. Practices evolve over time. Mine is currently in its seventh incarnation. I’ve made many business and personal decisions along the way. Sometimes change arose reactively—the desire to not be doing that anymore—while other moves were more prospective, based on the desire to focus on something new.

When I shifted away from certain areas of the law, the time spent on those fields was never wasted. I always learned, though sometimes not as quickly as I should have. Over time, I’ve been able to adapt faster, act sooner, and become bolder. Sometimes I made mistakes and then compounded them by hanging on, doubling down in the wrong direction. But, whether through choice or necessity, eventually I always rerouted my efforts and steered where I needed to go.

I graduated from The State University of New York at Stony Brook with a degree in political science in 1978. Like many pre-law students, my thoughts regarding the path to success were linear: go to the best possible law school so I could get the best possible job. It didn’t seem too complicated.

Following this strategy led me to the University of Texas Law School. At that point, going to UT Law and living in Austin were the biggest adventures of my life. I enjoyed law school and living in a different culture, but going to law school in Texas was not the usual path to a job back home in New York City.

I suspect most law students only envision themselves as actual attorneys in the abstract, if they think about it at all. Like my classmates at UT and my friends in other law schools, I merely hoped to “get a good job” after graduation. We didn’t talk about the day-to-day realities of law practice, just about getting into a good firm and one day making partner. Whatever that meant. To be honest, I didn’t know. I listened intently to all this talk and spoke little.

My first inkling of employment challenges ahead came during my second year. Park Avenue and Wall Street firms recruited at UT, and I interviewed with twenty of them. Each interview was like a bad blind date, with an awkward sense of “this isn’t going anywhere, is it?” always in the air. I knew where I stood when most never called back.

I did get a second interview with a firm that defended accountant malpractice cases, but even then, I knew there couldn’t be enough money for me to spend my days doing that. I also got a call back from a firm doing surety law, but I didn’t pursue it because in my mind, it sounded boring. Of course, this really meant I didn’t know what it was. Years later, I worked on some cases involving surety law. The field concerns a special kind of insurance (called a “surety bond”) designed to make sure someone does what they are supposed to do, and if they don’t do it (or do it poorly) a claim could be made against the bond. It’s kind of interesting. But back then, I knew best, so I passed.

After my bad interview experiences with the big firms, I figured I’d have to settle for a job at a smaller firm when I graduated. I wasn’t discouraged by the rejections. I thought it made sense to get some experience, and I also needed to make a few bucks, so I checked the employment board in the law school’s placement office.

I got a part-time job at a small Austin law firm, Milner and Smith. The firm had two partners, three associates, and two law student clerks, plus some support staff.

It was a great place to work and learn. I worked closely with all five lawyers on their projects and assignments. Joe Milner was the principal attorney there. He specialized in matrimonial cases and general civil litigation. At that time, he was in his forties and had been practicing for about fifteen years. I observed that not only was he an expert in his fields of practice, he seemed conversant and interested in many other areas of law.

His associates, who had various levels of experience, were all hard workers. From my perspective they all seemed like fine attorneys. They mostly worked independently, though they frequently consulted with each other and with Joe.

On my first day, Joe gave me my first assignment. (Note – throughout this book all client names are fictitious and facts are varied enough to protect confidentiality; all attorney names are real unless otherwise noted.) Joe wanted me to help his client, Mrs. Paulson. She was a seventy-year-old woman who Joe had represented in two divorces. According to Joe, she was a decent client who paid her fees on time and in full. He wanted me to solve her present problem, which involved some insurance questions. He wasn’t exactly sure what the problems were because she had a speech impediment and he couldn’t understand the full story over the phone. In the past he had met with her in her home, but he didn’t want to visit if it was not really necessary. He asked me to drive over to her house, see what was going on, straighten out what I could, and keep track of my time so the firm could bill her.

I called Mrs. Paulson, introduced myself, and made the appointment. I got directions from one of the associates and drove to her house.

Mrs. Paulson lived in a small house fifteen miles outside Austin. We sat at her dinette table. She spoke loudly as she showed me stacks of papers. It was a mess; three years of unsubmitted, rejected, or neglected Blue Cross health insurance claims. There were many collection letters from doctors and hospitals, and papers that I thought looked like lawsuits. At that moment the situation needed patience and persistence. I hoped I could sort everything out and communicate some positivity to the client. I knew I couldn’t handle all the problems myself, but I knew a law firm should be able to solve the problems.

I brought the papers back to the office, put in some hours, and got the mess organized. Then I discussed the situation with Joe. We determined that some problems were appropriate for me to handle—mostly corresponding with doctors and insurance companies—while the active lawsuits were better suited for the associates.

By the way, no law school class taught me to write letters to doctors and insurance companies. I learned how from Joe’s associates. My first few drafts involved a fair amount of trepidation and uncertainly, but I could see that such writing was an essential skill. (see Appendix “A” for my essential guide to letter writing)

The Mrs. Paulson case made me an instant hero at Milner & Smith, mostly because I saved anyone else from having to deal with the most tedious aspects of it. They were paying me $10 per hour, and I saw they billed $100 per hour for my time. I had no problem with that. I was proud when I made money for the firm.

I learned a lot working at Milner & Smith. I helped out on many types of cases. I got to see the business side of things, from how cases were initially evaluated, to how fee arrangements were made, to how back office operations affected the firm.

I was hired at the same time as another UT law student, but we were assigned different kinds of tasks. I noticed the other clerk was mostly assigned matters involving research and document drafting, while I mostly got the jobs requiring travel outside the office. I filed papers in various courthouses, looked up files in court, made house calls to certain clients, served papers, and delivered documents to opposing lawyers. Joe started me on this path right from the beginning, so I guess he thought I had some street smarts. Heck, maybe I did. In any event, there was a lesson in this, which was: If possible, match the right people with the right jobs.

Much of my later office management style and many of my office systems came from lessons learned from Joe Milner. I don’t think one could overstate the value in working at a small firm while in law school. Of course, it helps to find a well-run office and to pay attention to more than the individual work assignments. It seems Joe’s skills and business acumen have served him well—his firm is still going strong today. See Appendix B (Joe Milner website)

While I learned a great deal working in Austin, I still thought my career should progress toward big New York firms and striving for partnership. So, after two years in Texas, I moved back to New York to attend Fordham Law as a visiting student. I thought it would put me in a better position to pass the New York Bar exam (it did) and get a job in New York (it didn’t.)

While attending Fordham I got another part-time job, this time with a solo practitioner named Mark Weingard (this name is fictitious but the stories are true.) Mark was primarily a plaintiff’s personal injury lawyer, but he also did an assortment of general practice matters.

Mark’s office was in midtown Manhattan. Other than Mark’s law suite, the rest of the building was mostly occupied by Indian rug dealers. Mark was in his fifties. He was the landlord over a suite where he rented space to four older solo practitioners.

Mark’s tenants ranged in age from seventy-six to ninety. I was twenty-four. I wasn’t sure whether they were good lawyers but they sure told great stories. I thought they must have been decent though, since they all seemed prosperous and they were all working and paying rent. One day I realized (this was 1981) that many of those lawyers had been practicing for fifty years, which meant they had started practicing in the 1930s.

One of the offices was occupied by 82-year-old Leo Powell (not his real name.) He was sort of Mark’s associate. He didn’t have his own clients, he worked for Mark on an “as needed” basis,...