On Dad and the Law--Part V-A--About Gavin

As I mentioned previously, Tom Boyle having a law degree but never actually going into court to sue people did not have much of an effect on Dad, but it did have a great affect on my brother, Gavin. Now Gavin, being one of those people that everyone always says will Amount To Something, decided that the very best way to do that would be to go to law school. But, of course, my dad warned him against that saying all you did was make enemies and nobody liked you and such like. Well, Gavin took that to heart and wondered what he could do, since he had already spent four years in law school. And just when he was on the point of despair, he remembered Tom Boyle, who I discussed in my previous essay. Of, course, even without the help of Stephen Covey to warn him, he realized that the demand for lawyers to adjust insurance awards down to less-worldly-causing amounts was getting very limited, but he decided to ask my Uncle Milford if there was anything like that he(Gavin) could look into. Well, Uncle Milford was a sort of big-wig at the state so he suggested that Gavin trot up to the State Capitol Building and pop into a few offices and tell them that he(Uncle Milford) had sent him(Gavin). So he did that and he hadn't popped into very many offices when a man said to him. "Do you know anything about the laws dealing with banks?" And Gavin responded in a very humble tone of voice, "Of course, I have just finished four years at law school. I know all about laws dealing with banks." So the man said, "Well we need someone to help the man who regulates the banks in this state to regulate the banks in this state, so since you know all about the laws dealing with banks, you are hired." Well, naturally, Gavin was very happy and so he went home and told his wife, Libby, the good news and took her out to dinner, which was a very good thing because after four years of college and then four years of law school, they were both getting pretty thin.

Well, after a few months of being the assistant bank regulator, it was clear to everyone--or, at least, everyone who mattered, that Gavin had a real knack for this sort of thing, so they told the head regulator to go regulate something else, and Gavin became the chief regulator of banks in the state of Idaho. Well that is pretty much all there is to the story, except I have decided that it would be helpful to people who graduate from law school and don't want to be bothered with going into court to explain exactly how Gavin regulates banks, in case they decide that that is what they would rather do than go into court. Gavin drops by my house every so often, and besides that, I have known him from the time that he was knee high to a grasshopper (of course, he was never really knee high to a grasshopper, that is just another one of those sophisticated figures of speech that I have picked up over the years). At any rate, although, I will admit that I have never actually gone with him to regulate a bank, I can tell you with a great deal of confidence exactly how he does it.

To understand his methods, you have to realize that Gavin has always been the athletic one in our family. He was on the baseball team in high school and played tennis and golf and was very good at all of them and then some. But lately he has concentrated on golf. The trouble with golf is that if you don't keep at it constantly, you quickly lose the knack. Your drives don't drive, your puts putter--that sort of thing, so in order to keep up with his golf, he has to combine it with his work. What he does is he goes into a bank that he is going to regulate and he goes up to the nearest counter and he says, "Take me to your leader!" He learned this line from reading and watching science fiction stories but, after all, he does have to say something and be pretty impressive about it, so that's as good as anything. Well, usually the clerk, who has also read some science fiction, is not much impressed by this, and demands, "And just who might you be?" Well, then Gavin gives it to them with both barrels (this is another sophisticated figure of speech) and says, "I'm the head regulator of banks for the state of Idaho." Well, the clerk at that point is naturally sorry that he was so arrogant and all and immediately takes Gavin to his boss.

All the while this interchange has been taking place, Gavin is very carefully looking around. He notices if all the papers on the desk are neatly stacked in orderly piles or if they have been sloppily layed down in a helter-skelter fashion. When he meets the bank manager, he looks him over to see if he is wearing a well pressed suit with a well-tied tie--or, if the bank manager is a woman, he checks to see if she is wearing whatever women are supposed to wear instead of a tie--Gavin having learned exactly what that is during his four years at law school. Well, if everything looks ship-shape (of course, the bank really bears no resemblance whatever to a ship, but I needn't tell you what that expression is), i. e., the papers are all stacked straight, and the tie is well-tied, Gavin congratulates the banker on having passed his audit (this is the expression bank regulaters use because it is much shorter than "bank regulation visit"), and he calls up some friends and they go play golf. If, however, things do not look, in a manner of speaking, like the H.M.S. Pinafore, Gavin has to take action.

What he does is invite the bank manager and a few of the assistant managers to go golfing with him, at their expense, of course, greens fees having gotten so out of hand lately. Gavin is a good golfer and so he doesn't liek to take unfair advantage of these people by scaring them with banker talk right off, so he talks about the weather, and the scenery and that sort of thing to put them at ease. Then about the 8th or 9th hole, he says in a very casual sort of way, "Now about the bank, if someone comes in and gives you $500 to deposit, do you write that down in a book somewhere, so you will remember it?" If the man says, "Yes, we know all about keeping books and we always write it down." Then Gavin is mightily relieved, but he doesn't stop there. "Well what if someone comes and borrows $500, do you write that down in a book too?" Well, if the bank man responds with, "Oh you bet, we write that down as well." Then Gavin is even more mightily relieved. Of course, if they respond with something like, "Oh we don't bother with books. We only hire people with very good memories." Then Gavin is very, very concerned, realizing that staightening this whole thing is going to cut seriously into his golf time.

But, unlike most bank regulators, when Gavin finds out that the bank people know all about books, he doesn't let it go at that, he persists, which explains why he became the head regulator so quick. "Supposing that someone borrows some money and they don't make a payment, what do you do?" he asks looking at the bank manager very narrowly (of course, I just threw that in, I have no idea what it means to look at a person "very narrowly", but they do it in the detective stories I read all the time). "I write that in the book too." The bank manager, hopefully, responds. But Gavin relentlessly persists, "And just how do you write it in the books?" If the bank manager says, "I write it in red ink." Then Gavin breathes a sigh of relief and goes back to talking about the weather, knowing that the people's money is in good hands at a bank where everyone knows about books and red ink. Of course, when he gets back he takes a look at the books, to see if they really are using red ink.

Now, of course, I realize, as I am sure everyone else does, that things have changed in the banking world, with the coming into use of computers, so I am describing what Gavin did earlier in his career. Now he has to ask about computers. And this, of course, has created a thorny problem. The problem is, of course, that it is not possible to have two keyboards, one with black letters and one with red letters, so somehow, the bank people have had to come up with ingenious ways to replace the use of red ink. This is known as the Red Ink Problem. My brother has had to golf on golf courses all over the country to see how people in various parts of the country have been able to deal with this problem. Lately he has been elected as president of the National Bank Regulators society, so he has had to golf on golf courses all over the country explaining to people in various parts of the country how people in other parts of the country handle the Red Ink Problem. Actually, I think it is a good thing that we have come up with computers, because if we had not, and what I read in the newspapers is true, if we had not come up with computers, we would be suffering from a frightful shortage of red ink.

At any rate, this whole article was a digression from Dad's law career, but I thought it would be helpful to people to know how going to church with Tom Boyle, even if it didn't help Dad's career all that much, it was at least helpful to my brother's. Hopefully soon, I will get to talking about Jayson Holladay, whose career, while terribly hopeful for Dad, wasn't particularly helpful either, as we will see.

On Dad and the Law--Part V

I think at some point Dad decided that there was never going to be a "royal road to success" in his career as a lawyer, but he gave it one last try. To understand what happened you have to realize that when I was in high school we moved out south of town, directly across the road from the municipal golf course and as a consequence we became neighbors to and attended church with the wealthiest and most successful people in town. That is because we lived close to what we called Snob Hill. Snob Hill was really Johnny Creek Road. The reason we could afford to live in the same neighborhood with these people requires some explanation. Of course, I have to explain right off, that we had some ordinary people in our neighborhood, i. e. people who lived in very ordinary houses like the Southwicks, the Armstrongs, the Robinsons and the Probarts--in fact, the Probarts lived in a house that was less than ordinary. But they had lived there since the days of the conestoga wagons, and they certainly did not live on Snob Hill. But how we came to live so close to the Herzogs, the Comstocks, the Boyles, the Kilbournes, and many other of the rich folk can best be explained by explaining how you got to our house. If you started up Johnny Creek Road you came to a fork at which you had to turn either right or left. If you turned right, you stayed on the main road and wound up on Snob Hill, which was cluttered with mansions. Snob Hill was popular because it had a very beautiful view of the whole valley. If you turned left, you passed a chicken farm, and about half a mile up the road you came to our place and just a little bit further, to the Southwicks, and then to Mrs. Southwick's parents place.

I don't think Dad ever really figured out why we lived where we did, all alone, with none of the rich people eager to move in around us. We had a view that was probably as beautiful, if not more so, than any of them. In addition, we had a stream running through our property with a couple of acres of Russian Olive and Juniper trees. It was almost an idyllic location. I suspect that many of my parent's friends, when they came to visit, wondered how on earth we could afford such a wonderful piece of land, so close to the very wealthy--I say, they probably wondered that as long as the air was still, as soon as the wind blew, which it did a great deal in Pocatello, they knew exactly why. The key to our even having bought the property at all is the fact that Dad had a very bad case of nasal allergy. He was always sniffing from an inhaler just so he could breath, and, of course, he couldn't smell. Jess Ziebarth, who was my 7th grade teacher's brother, and was as sharp at business as she was at English, owned the property and had been trying to sell it for years. He had initially showed Dad several other locations, not nearly as beautiful, but as soon as he saw Dad pull out his inhaler, I think, he yelled, "Eureka! have I got a deal for you." and took Dad to what became our place. Dad loved it instantly. Mr. Ziebarth, who was no crook, and was actually a very nice person--almost as nice as Miss Ziebarth, although, lots of people didn't think she was so nice because she could look pretty mean, and look which she used fairly often in class--gave Dad a really fair price, in fact, I think he felt it was an absolute steal--and the rest of us in the family probably would have agreed with him if we had also had a very bad case of allergies. The reason, of course, was the fact that we were downwind from the chicken farm. I will say that after we had lived there a few years, they came to us and announced that they had bought some sort of device that cleaned up the smell, which made things much better, except of course, when the device broke down, which it did fairly often. We would all be sitting out on the deck, looking out over the valley and the sunset when all of sudden the wind would blow, and we would realize that the device had broken again and we would dash into the house, close all the windows and the doors and start burning incense, leaving Dad out on the deck wondering why we had all dashed away in such a hurry.

At any rate, we now went to church with some of the wealthiest people in town. Several lawyers lived on Snob Hill, but they didn't go to church, or at least, not to ours. But there were two lawyers who did, and who Dad sort of envied--Tom Boyle and Jason Holladay. Well to say that he envied Tom Boyle is not exactly fair, because, Dad realized that Tom's case was special and that he could not hope to duplicate it. It turns out that Tom had graduated from law school, but wasn't really excited, like Dana Muir, at getting involved with courts and arguments and that sort of thing so he went( or at least, I always assumed that this is what he did) to the local insurance agency and asked them if they had a job. Well, they asked him if he understood the law about insurance, and him having graduated from law school, he said he did, so they hired him. It turns out they needed what they called an Insurance Adjuster. As far as I could tell what an Insurance Adjuster did was as follows: when someone died all their relatives would gather around and ask, how much insurance did they have? Well normally, they were disappointed that it wasn't more, but of course, there wasn't anything they could do about that. But every now and then they would ask, "How much insurance did he (or she) have?" and when the agent told them they would say, "That is way too much. If we had that much money we would get worldly and spoiled and maybe even worse." So they would ask to have their insurance adjusted down to a less worldly-causing level. Well, Tom Boyle, having graduated from law school knew exactly how to adjust it down in a completely legal manner. Anyway, Tom Boyle was very, very liked because he had such an easy-going disposition. But, of course, he could afford to have such an easy-going disposition, because, strange as it may seem, there weren't all that many people who wanted to have their deceased relative's insurance payment adjusted down, so mostly he spent his time doing cross-word puzzles and keeping very up-to-date on all the vital statics of the major-league ball players. Now Dad really liked Tom Boyle, but I think he more or less realized that the demand for law school graduates who knew how to legally adjust insurance down to less worldly-causing levels was extremely limited, so Tom's example didn't have much of an effect on Dad's practice. In fact, mostly I mention Tom Boyle at all because of the effect it had on me.

It turns out that Tom Boyle had a son my age, Larry Boyle. Now Larry and I went to church together and did a few other things together, but we didn't do all that much together, because Larry was so easy-going, having learned how to do it from his dad, and fun-loving, which happens when you have an easy-going dad, that we tended to move in different circles. In fact, if someone had told Larry--which I myself may have done on a few occasions--that Life is Earnest, Life is Real, he would have realized immediately that he was being quoted to and that whoever said that did not have an Insurance Adjuster for a father. The main reason I mention Larry is that he is now on the Supreme Court of the State of Idaho. This undoubtedly comes as great a shock to whoever is reading this as it did to me when I first heard it. "What!", I said, very emphatically. "Larry Boyle on the Supreme Court? Why when I knew Larry Boyle he couldn't have told you who the president of the United States was without a whole lot of coaching." In fact, when I knew Larry, Idaho had two senators--Frank Church, a Democrat, and Henry D., a Republican. The Democrat had a last name that almost anyone, especially if they were religious, could spell, but the Republican had a last name that no one could even pronounce, much less spell--it was something like Dworchek, but everyone, except possibly his wife, just called him Henry D. Well, I mention all this just to point out that Larry Boyle could not have told you all that with any amount of coaching. How did he do it then? i.e. get to be on the Supreme Court and all? I thought about it and I decided that it was because when he went on his mission he had Stephen Covey for a mission president. I suspect he told Pres. Covey about wanting to be like his dad and help people adjust their insurance receipts down and Pres. Covey, being a business professor, realized that the demand for that sort of thing was dropping off considerably, suggested that he try something else and began coaching him on "the seven habits of highly successful people". This, of course, worked so well for Larry, that Pres. Covey decided to turn it into a book. My wife on occasion is want to say, "why can't you be a highly successful person like you old classmate, Larry Boyle?" Well, I got so tired of her saying things like that, that I decided I would by the book, which obviously worked for Larry Boyle. It came as a bit of a shock. I thought the seven habits would be things like, "get to bed early, eat lots of spinach and broccoli, run a mile before breakfast", that sort of thing. Instead, the habits were things I had never heard of, in fact, things that were not even in the dictionary my Aunt Virginia gave me for my 10th birthday. In fact, after reading the whole book, the only habit I could even understand was "Sharpen the Saw". So I said to myself, "if it worked for Larry Boyle, maybe it will work for me." So I went out to the shed, where, fortunately, I had a saw; borrowed a file from my neighbor, and began sharpening the saw. And I must say, it was no easy task. I must also say, I was a bit sceptical, wondering the whole time how that was going to help. And I must say, my scepticism was well placed. Doing all that didn't even get me a raise, much less getting me appointed to the State Supreme Court. I finally decided that the only way that that possibly could help me is if I ever decided to actually use the saw. I now feel that those "seven habits" only work if they come straight from the horse's mouth--as they did for Larry--not that I want to compare Stephen Covey to a horse--that is only a very sophisticated figure of speech. But I digress.

At any rate, knowing Tom Boyle, as I said, did not help Dad in his practice that much. But Jayson Holladay was a very different story, which I will take up later.

On Dad and the Law--Part IV

Although Dad didn't get much from listening to Perry Mason's look-alike, Raymond Burr, or, even a few years later from his creator, Earle Stanley Gardner, there was one Bar Convention from which Dad came in a high state of excitement. This one was held in San Francisco and when Dad got back from it he announced to all of us that he had heard a speech that had given him an idea that was finally going to put us on Easy Street. He was finally going to be able to look his uncle, Wesley Merrill in the eye and say, "To bad about that case you lost, in fact, to bad about the last twenty cases you have lost. If you need a loan, or even a little bit of help with a handout, just drop on by." As I said, he was finally going to be able to say that to his uncle, instead of his uncle always saying that to him. Not that Dad ever really asked his uncle for a handout, or even a loan, but you could tell that he envied him. His uncle seldom lost a case and his clients were mostly big corporate types, or, at least, the biggest corporate types that you could find in Pocatello.

Well, it seems that the key to success so carefully, completely, and convincingly laid out by a speaker at the San Francisco Bar Convention can be summed up in a single word, "histrionics". Well, it could not be entirely summed up in one word, actually, it was three words. The other two words were "deep pockets". Now I must admit that anyone reading this is going to say, "Your dad went all the way to San Francisco to learn this? This is hardly Legal Rocket Science." But you have to remember that this was back in the days when those kinds of Legal Rockets were still in their infancy. The Bar was still struggling to try to prove that they were an honorable trade or profession. You could not advertise and you could not specialize and apparently this fellows presentation about using histrionics and going after "deep pockets" did not go by unprotested. But whatever, Dad was all excited about it. He gathered us around the dinner table to tell us all about the trip and how we were going to be rich.

"So what is histrionics?" Loni asked. I would have asked, but I assumed it was the study of Paul Revere and Lewis and Clark and I admit I was a little puzzled as to how that was going to help Dad in his law practice, I just assumed he knew what he was doing and anyway, anything coming out of San Francisco was bound to be a little bit weird, so maybe they had figured out a way to make knowing all about Paul Revere and such like pay off. If they had, I was sure to cash in in a big way having read complete books about those guys for Miss Biggerts 4th grade history class. But anyway, it was a good thing that Loni asked because it turns out that histrionics has absolutely nothing to do with Paul Revere or even Lewis and Clark. But, in another way, it turned out to be not such a good thing because of the example Dad used to explain it.

"For example," Dad said, obviously very very excited, " this guy who spoke to us in San Francisco has made millions of dollars by being very dramatic in court."

"You mean like doing a summersault?" I asked incredulously. " Mom did that after she promised us she would if we ate our oatmeal and it put her in the hospital (which by the way, actually happened), if you did it in court, you would be lucky to wind up in the hospital. More likely, we would be orphans, or, at least, half orphans."

"Of course not," Dad just laughed. "I wouldn't do a sommersault. What good would that do?" Well, of course, he had us there, so we just asked him what he did plan to do.

"Well, for example, this fellow when he was suing a doctor for a bungled operation on a fellows leg brought in an actual leg cut off a dead person and dropped it in the lap of the people of the jury!"

"Please Dad," Gavin protested. "We're eating dinner!"

"That's just it," Dad continued all excited. "You can't be sqeamish if you are going to be dramatic in court."

"And just who would you sue in Pocatello?" I think it was Mom who asked that, although it may have been Loni.

"Well, doctors, like Dr. Sharp, I suppose."

There was silence around the table. Dad knew he had made a terrible mistake. "Well, at least, maybe someone, I mean there are some bad doctors here in Pocatello."

"Like who?"

Dad paused, and I think he was about to mention one of the doctors who we always said we couldn't go to because they charged big fees like Dr. Merkeley or Dr. Hegstead, but I guess he thought better of it. Dr. Merkeley went to our church and we were friends with his kids and, of course, Loni was Millie Hegstead's friend and I played ball with Ralph and besides, the idea of dropping a dead baby in the lap of the jury--well, he just said, "I don't know and we didn't hear anymore about the trip to San Francisco or even of becoming millionaires by using "histrionics" and going after "deep pockets".

On Dad and the Law--Part III

Having failed to achieve the dream of Merrill K. Gee and Associates, Dad launched into the idea of really making a go of it as a lawyer, i. e. being successful in the way that his uncle, Wesley Merrill and some of the other lawyers in town were successful. One thing he looked to to help him in that venture was The Bar. Every so often The Bar would have what they called a Convention. Apparently, all the lawyers who were in The Bar would get together and discuss better and bigger and more effective ways to sue people. They would always have a speaker who apparently was better at doing what lawyers do than almost any other lawyer who would talk to everyone in The Bar in a big meeting. At any rate, Dad was always very excited when in was time for a Bar Convention.

Of course, I felt keenly about Dad's success, so I would occasionally make suggestions. The one I remember best was I suggested that he get into the same line of work as Perry Mason, who seemed, at least, to win a lot of cases and seemed like everyone admired him. My very first job was to clean Dad's office and I suggested he change his little sign which read "Gee & Hargraves, Attorneys at Law" to "Gee & Hargraves, Criminal Lawyers". This I felt sure could not help but bring in the bacon so to speak and in no time at all my dad would be as widely admired as Perry Mason. But Dad nixed the idea right off. For one thing, he said, he could not put out such a sign. Doing so would land him in hot water with The Bar, which did not allow the advertising of a specialty in any form, not even on a sign. He could, of course, accept only criminal cases if he chose to do so, but he could not put out a sign saying such. When I asked him how Perry Mason got away with it, he only responded rather(flipantly, I thought) that he wasn't sure how Perry Mason got away with a lot of things he did.

Well, in a way, he got a chance to find out. It turns out that a Bar Convention was coming up in Sun Valley and The Bar had invited Raymond Burr to speak. Dad was really excited, which surprised me, because, of course, I could see through that in about 30 seconds. Lawyers, who, for the most part, as I said, were lawyers only because they couldn't think of anything more worthwhile to do after they finished college, and, therefore, not the sharpest tacks on the board, were going to be duped by The Bar into thinking they were hearing from Perry Mason, when, in fact, they would only be hearing from the man who pretended to be Perry Mason on television, but I was surprised that my own father, who could have thought of any number of things to do after he finished college and only went into The Law because he loved it, seemed as gullible as the rest. Well, anyway, he trotted off to Sun Valley, and, sure enough, when I asked him about when he got back, he told me that he thought it had not been particularly helpful, which, as I said, I could have told him in the first place and saved him the trip.

But after that, I began to watch Perry Mason with a more critical eye and I decided that I was glad that Dad didn't want to be like him. For one thing, Perry Mason had to handle a big major case every single week. What with preparing for the case, telling his private detective, Paul Drake, what to do, and studying in the law books really hard to find new things to object to, he could hardly have any time for his family--which, in his case, was probably ok because he didn't seem to have one, but I wouldn't have liked it with Dad because he wouldn't even have had time to take us for our yearly trip to Yellowstone, which we sometimes did even twice a year. Of course, I finally figured out why Perry Mason had to work so hard--he was famous and respected and all that, but he almost never made any money. The reason was that he always had clients who were very beautiful but they were almost always in need of money. That was their problem. They needed money and beautiful girls--at least, beautiful girls in Los Angelos, are always in some way associated with millionaires in some way i. e. they come into the bar where they work, or they are their secretary, or even their wives--but, at any rate, they always know these millionaire guys really well, but the only way they can get any of their money--even if they're married to them--is to murder them, which, of course, the District Attorney, Hamilton Burger, always thinks they did. (As an aside, I think if I were a millionaire, I would avoid Los Angelos like the plague, because in Los Angelos at least one millionaire, probably more, are murdered every week--I say probably more, because it only stands to reason that Perry Mason would not be involved with every single case involving a murdered millionaire). Of course, Hamilton Burger is so busy preparing cases and studying law books to figure out ways to overcome Perry Mason's objections, that he never learns anything from experience. You would think, for example, that he would eventually learn that just because a beautiful girl is desparate for money and the only way she can ever get any is to murder a millionaire, does not necessarily mean that she did, in fact, murder the millionaire, especially if it turns out that she is Perry Mason's client, but he never does--learn that, that is. But his chief investigator, Lt. Tragg is no better. He always thinks that because he happened to stumble into the murdered man's house and finds the beautiful girl standing over the murder man with a smoking gun, means that she killed him. Of course, he does have the excuse, that on the previous week, it was not a gun, it was a lead pipe, and the week before that it was a knife, and before that, a candlestick, so that is understandly confusing, and leads him, because the weapons are different, that because the beautiful girl is standing over the just-murdered man with the weapon in her hand, that she did it. Of course, the one who always does it is someone we hardly know, like the office manager, who happened to see the millionaire kissing his(the office manager's) wife's sister's best friend's milk man's niece, and is, therefore, understandly so outraged that he feels the only course open to him is to murder the cad. But, of course, we don't know any of this until Perry Mason points it out after having been told about the niece--and two dozen or so other facts, discovered by his men--by Paul Drake, in the middle of the trial when he whispers all these facts in Perry's ear right after he has made an objection--Perry is always at his sharpest after he has made an objection. But, of course, only Perry knows that it is the fact about the niece that is really the only relevant fact. Well he accuses the office manager, who promply confesses but everyone is very simpathetic, when they discover about the millionaire having kissed the niece and all. But the sad part is, of course, that in the last part, after Perry explains how he figured out about the niece, there is never enough time for him to explain, but you know it to be the case, that because he proved that the beautiful girl did not murder the millionaire, she doesn't get any of the money she would have gotten if she had and, therefore, he will have to try another case next week with the hope that there will be something besides enhanced reputation in it for him, which, of course, there never is.

Well, the point of all that rather lengthy digression, is that I was glad that Dad didn't become another Perry Mason. But he did attend one Bar Convention, about which he was very excited, and from which he was sure he had gotten the insight he needed to really make it big. But I will have to tell about that later.

On Dad and the Law--Part II

The way that Dad planned to become the Robert J. Debry and Associates, only the Merrill K. Gee and Associates, and in Idaho instead of Utah and long before Robert J. Debry added Associates to his name, and very possibly before Robert J. Debry was even named at all, was in this fashion. My mom grew up in Preston, Idaho with the result that I had a Grandpa and Grandma not only in Pocatello, but I also had them in Preston, which, of course, was very confusing until I studied Mendell in my college biology class, but long before I studied Mendell and understood it all, I had a Grandpa and Grandma in Preston. Well, anyway, we would go there fairly often, and Dad somehow managed to pick up some clients there. Exactly how he did that, he never really explained to me. I suppose he stood around the local General Store, which was about all they had in Preston in those days, except, of course, the Spudnut shop, which was right next to my grandparent's place, so I suppose he could have stood around in that, and said to customers, "Would you like to sue somebody?" and eventually, he got some takers. Of course, if he did do that, it is awfully close to doing advertising which, as I explained earlier, he was supposed to never, ever do under any circumstances, but, then, I suspect that The Bar was not real active in Preston and he felt he could somehow get away with it.

At any rate, he had clients there and so he had to go there and occasionally he would offer to take Loni and me along. Now we loved to go to Preston. For one thing, my Grandpa Merrill had a very large raspberry patch, so whenever we went, if it was summer, we got to eat lots and lots of delicious raspberries (unless, of course, we had to pick them ourselves, in which case, we didn't eat quite so many). For another thing, the Crockets, who owned the doughnut shop next door, would see us hanging around and offer us a genuine Spudnut. But the main reason we loved to go (other than to see Grandma and Grandpa) was to visit Aunt Jessie. Jessie Whitehead was not really our aunt. She was my Grandpa's cousin, or second cousin, or maybe even third cousin, but we always liked to call her Aunt. Of course, normally, we were not usually all that excited to visit even our real aunts unless they had kids our age, which Aunt Jessie didn't, but what Aunt Jessie did have was a TV set. In those days there was not a TV station anywhere near enough to Pocatello that you could get TV there, but Preston was close enough that with a very high antenna on your roof you could get the stations in Salt Lake City. So it was at Aunt Jessie's place that Loni and I learned about Boston Blackie and Howdy Doody and other very important people that kids in Pocatello knew absolutely nothing about.

At any rate, when Dad's friend, Dana Muir graduated from law school, Dad approached him with the idea of opening up a branch of his office in Preston, and Dana would run that branch. Over lunch at our house Dad explained the whole thing to Dana, and I listened in very carefully, hoping that I could somehow get in on this operation so I could get down to Preston more often and thereby get even further ahead of all the other kids in school in Pocatello by watching Aunt Jessie's TV more often. The only lawyer in Preston was a man named Del Smith, and according to Dad, as he explained to Dana, this Del Smith was either old or lazy, I don't remember which, maybe both (if you know someone who lived in Preston at the time you could ask them whether Del Smith was old or lazy), but anyway, he was, again according to my dad, not up to doing near the amount of lawyering that needed doing in Preston in order to keep the place is ship shop shape. So Dana, who thought that since he had spent four years in college getting a law degree, he might as well do something with it, and not aware of the possibilities I will explain later when I talk about Tom Boyle and Jason Holladay, accepted and off he went to Preston.

Now this was very exciting to Dad. I think he could easily visualize the day when he would have branch offices all over Idaho and could advertise himself (as soon as The Bar would allow him to advertise at all) as Merrill Gee and Associates. Loni and I were very excited that maybe he would open up a branch office in Lava Hot Springs, hopefully right next door to the swimming pool. But alas, it was not to be. About a week after he went down to Preston to start working on his first case, Dana called Dad and said that he needed help. Dad said he was glad to go and understood completely, after all, it was Dana's first case, and they can't teach you everything that is in all those huge books that line the walls of a lawyer's office, even in four years. So Dad went down. To his disappointment, even amazement, Dana announced that this, his first case, was also to be his last. It seems that whoever it was that Dad (and now, Dana) was suing, was about the most popular person in Preston, so that wherever Dana went he was accosted and almost threatened. Dana said he understood that people who got sued might be a little annoyed, and maybe even more than a little annoyed, with the people who were suing them, but it had never occured to him that they would be equally--and maybe even more--annoyed with the lawyer who was representing the suing people. After all, he was only the messenger, so to speak. But he was finding out different, so he said, he was quiting the law altogether.

Dad, as I said, was dumbfounded. He pleaded, he cajoled, he threatened, he cried, but all to no avail. Dana was determined. The reminder that he had spent four long arduous years getting a law degree carried no weight whatever, when he thought of the menacing looks he received walking down the streets of Preston. He had put himself through law school by doing typesetting for the Denver Post. So Dana began doing the same thing for the Idaho State Journal. What must have been terribly discouraging to Dad, and he even hinted at it a few times, was that Dana, who started to real estate on the side, was soon doing better--and according to my dad--much better, than he(Dad) was doing with all his college and experience. So anyway, since it had become painfully obvious that he was never to be Merrill Gee and Associates, he had to try the next thing, which I will try to describe in the next section.

On Dad and the Law--Part I

My father was a lawyer. You are probably wondering why he became a lawyer. Of course, we all know why most lawyers become such. They have finished college and they have a spouse, or someone in mind they hope to convince to be their spouse, whose father is a doctor or a dentist, and, therefore, used to the finer things in life, so when our hero goes home and announces (or to the spouse's house and annouces, in case he is still trying to convince) that he has finally finished college and now plans to go out and be a school teacher, the fire hits the fan. Well at that point the hero realizes that if he wants to keep (or get) the spouse (this is all very awkward, because, of course, we could be talking about a man or a woman here, but I haven't quite got the whole thing down about how to make that clear, but just keep in mind that when I say "his" or "hero", I am using the terms in their generic sense), he is going to have to do something different. After checking and finding out that the local, state, and federal bureaucracies all have hiring freezes posted (again), our hero, after checking his math and science grades again and realizing that doctor or dentist is not an option, yells (like Archimedes), "Eureka, I've found it" and he (or she--increasingly, she) heads off to law school. Well, in my dad's case, this didn't happen--or at least, he claimed it didn't. He told me (and I questioned him very closely on the subject) that he, like Sir Walter Scott's father, had always loved the law and always wanted to be a lawyer. So off he went to law school. But the truth of the matter is, that at heart Dad was really a bureaucrat. So after walking down the aisle at George Washington University to pick up his law diploma, he kept on walking across the street and accepted a job with the Social Security Administration as the regional manager for the Pocatello area. This was a great relief to my Grandpa and Grandma. My Granddad, working for years in the County Assessors office, had absolutely nothing against bureaucrats, and was mightily pleased that Dad had such a good, secure, government job fresh out of college. But, like most young bureaucrats, expecially those with law degrees, Dad was ambitious, so when he got the chance to be Assistant Federal Marshall for the state of Idaho, he jumped at it, even though that meant having to move to Boise and consequently, having to associate with Republicans and other low lifes that hang around Capitol Buildings. A year or so later, he jumped at the chance to be involved as a prosecutor and judge at the Nazi War Crime Trials in Germany. That was a wonderful experience for my sister, Loni and me, and, I think, for my parents, but like so many wonderful experiences in life, it had its down side, in this case, the downside being that the higher up in the bureaucracies saw that Dad was being ambitious and decided to nip that in the bud, and his having been involved in something as politically incorrect as the Nazi thing gave them a reason, so when he came back from Germany they told him that if he wanted to continue to be a bureaucrat, he would have to be like almost all the other bureaucrats and just sit around Washington D.C. and shuffle papers. Well, Dad decided that he wouldn't be much better at shuffling papers than he was at shuffling cards, what with him hating gambling and all, and besides, he didn't much care for Washington D. C. either. So he launched out on his own and became a lawyer in private practice.

Poor Dad. As I said above, he was really a bureaucrat at heart, and he never really adjusted to arguing, the in-fighting and back stabbing carefully balanced by back slapping, that characterized the life of a small town lawyer, but he certainly gave it a valiant try. I think he decided early on that he had to develop some sort of strategy in order to really make a go of it. It was discouraging to him, I think, to notice how successful other lawyers were, expecially his uncle, Wesley Merrill, with seemingly no effort other than a careful balance of slyness and, as I said backslapping and stabbing. He told me that it really bothered him that his fellow lawyers would call each other (and him) all kinds of names (like "you rattlesnake, you slimy toad" and that sort of thing only even worse) and then go out to lunch together. I suspect that part of the reason, he was so unhappy with the whole thing is that, especially, at first, he couldn't even afford to go out to lunch. But anyway, he developed several stategies, which, I now understand, but I didn't at the time.

Now you may be asking yourself, "why do you understand these strategies now and didn't then?" This is a very good question, but the reason is that my boss always watches the news on TV at noon, and I sometimes join him, although he generally looks at me with a glaring eye and sometimes even says, "Don't you have something you need to do?" But when he does this I simply point at my sandwich or my apple, which is my sort of subtle way of reminding him that it is my lunch time, and he just grunts and we go on watching the news. Well, anyway, in Salt Lake the news at noon is more or less sponsored by lawyers and I have pretty much figured out their strategies and, I realize now the similarity between what they are doing and what my dad tried to do (unsuccessfully, as you will see) way back then in Pocatello. Of course, my dad could not advertize. This, according to him was a strict no-no. There was a group of people called "The Bar" that very strictly regulated lawyers, and if you tried to advertise, or even tried to specialize, you were promptly kicked out of (or maybe it was kicked by) "The Bar". At any rate, you were kicked, and if you advertise, which was considered especially bad, you were kicked very hard.

But, anyway, nowdays The Bar goes in for advertising in a big way so if you are very observant (which I am), you can really catch on to what lawyers are up these days. In Utah there are two very successful lawyers named Craig Swapp and Keith Barton. These two lawyers have never had a case that they have not won for at least a million dollars. I think that whenever the judge sees that the plaintiff is represented by either one of them, he has had so much experience with them that he simply turns to the jury and says, "I see that plaintiff is represented by Mr. Swapp (or Mr. Barton). I think that in view of this fact (judges always like to say "In view of this fact", it is one of the things that they work really hard on in law school) gentlemen and ladies of the jury, we may as well dispense with the usual rigamarole of listening to evidence and calling witnesses and simply grant plaintiff the million dollars (sometimes, of course, it is two or three million, but whatever it is he is asking), which we know he will get anyway. That way we can all go home early and I can pick up a few tips from Judge Judy (which, by the way, my boss also watches on occasions, but if I so much as pause in front of the TV during that show, he really gives me the evil eye, lunch being over and all, so I move quickly on. I mention this, because, having only seen short sniptets of the show, I am really not in the position to tell that judge whether or not he could pick up some good tips from Judge Judy), so Mr. Foreman, what do you say?" Well, of course, the foreman, by way of making the whole thing look on the up and up asks around to get opinions of the other jury members, but, of course, he being the Foreman and all, he pretty much ignores their opinion and goes along with the judge.

But I must say, and I think it important to make this clear, that neither Swapp or Barton ever really guarantee that they will win at least a million dollars, of course, from the way they smile, and act so assured and all, you're pretty certain that the million is in the bag (provided, of course, that you, the client, were injured due to absolutely no fault of your own). But to make it clear why they can't absolutely guarantee that you will get at least a million dollars, I will do what lawyers almost always do and use a clarifying example. Suppose you are walking along on the sidewalk and smack dab in front of you, right in the middle of the sidewalk is your neighbors three year old's tricycle, but you do not see it because right at the instant when you might have seen it a hummingbird hovers in front of you, which is such a rare sight that you look at it exclusively and, as a result, you smash into the tricycle, stubbing your toe. Well, you have obviously been injured through absolutely no fault of your own so you call Mr. Swapp. He, of course, is pained, horrified, incredibly indigent, mortified, and several other things, when he realizes how terribly irresponible and inexcusibly negligent your sneighbor's three year old has been in leaving his (you notice, I said "his", in these examples you have to be terribly careful or you could be sued yourself) tricycle in the middle of the sidewalk, and, of course, given the circumstance of the hummingbird and all, it is clear that you are absolutely not in the slightest at fault. So he takes the case. But when it goes to trial, the judge, not having seen a hummingbird hover in exactly that manner, especially over a sidewalk, decides to go ahead with hearing testimony and witnesses and whatnot, and the result is that you only win $900,000. Well, naturally, you are incensed, especially when you find out that Mr. Swapp plans on taking part of the $900,000 for himself, which more or less adds insult to injury. So you decide to sue him (Mr. Swapp), using Mr. Barton, who you now realize, you should have used in the first place. Well, he (Mr. Barton) delivers the goods by suing him (Mr. Swapp) for one million dollars and, as usual, winning. Well, anyway, I hope that that makes it all clear, actually, I'm not clear on the whole thing myself, but I think, if you read over this example carefully three or four times you will understand why both he (Mr. Barton) and him (Mr. Swapp) cannot guarantee that they will always win one million dollars.

Now this is getting a bit long, but you will certainly understand all about the law when I am finished. There is another lawyer--well actually two lawyers who work together, named Siegfried and Jensen. They have had over 20,000 people come to them for help who have been injured through no fault of their own. You may wonder why so many people have gone to Siegfried and Jensen, especially, as these two lawyers are much too humble to tell you exactly how much they always win when they take a case, but you can tell from their manner that it is probably even more than Mr. Swapp or Mr. Barton. The key to their great success is that they have a bit of a gimmick. They always bring a tiger into the court. I've never actually seen the tiger, of course, but they are famous for their tigers. I'm sure they have carefully trained them to growl at the judge if he overrules one of their objections and occasionly to growl at the jury so they know which way they better vote. I'm not too sure how successful this gimmick is lately because a few years back one of their tigers badly mauled a guy named Roy--I'm not sure whether he was the judge or on the jury, but I did read about it in the paper, it being big news. So anyway, I suspect that whenever they bring a tiger into the court now, that the bailiff checks to make sure that it is secured by a pretty strong leash, probably actually pulling on the leash.

But the most humble, and most successful, is a lawyer named Robert J. Debry. He is so successful that his real name is now Robert J. Debry and Associates. He has offices all over Utah and so he is always jetting around to his various offices to help people who have been injured through absolutely no fault of their own. When I say he is the most humble, it is because he not only never mentions how much he will win but he also never mentions how many thousands of people, but what with him jetting around so much and all, you can be pretty sure that he beats the others on both counts. His big gimmick is that he will tell you right on the phone whether you have a case or not. And it is a pretty good thing that someone invented cell phones because if you called him from Salt Lake and he happened to be in St. George, or even on the jet, you might call someone else, and then where would he be? Anyway, if you call him I suspect, he immediately asks you, "Were you injured due to absolutely no fault of your own?" and if you say, "Oh, absolutely." Then he takes the case and you are have a million dollars more or less guaranteed, although he never says that--not on TV at least, maybe, he does on the phone. At any rate, it was the Robert J. Debry strategy that my father first decided to try as I will explain in the next installment, if I get to it. I think that it is pretty impressive that Dad would think of this strategy so long ago, probably long before he (Robert J. Debry) had thought of it, probably while he was still struggling to get into The Bar. But, as you will see when I tell the whole sad story, this stategy did not work for Dad at all, but, it was definitley due to absolutely no fault of his own, as you will also see, and probably also because in using this strategy he was so far ahead of his time.

On Dad and the Law--Part I