In Game: at Duquesne
Posted: Tue Feb 06, 2024 3:48 pm
Funny stories from the bench, continued:
Attorneys are low-hanging fruit for the jurist who wants to write about humorous events in the courtroom. Most stories are laughable because the lawyer's performance is so dreadful. This ultimately turns out to be tinged with sadness and pity for the hapless attorney and his poor client, and the humor gets obscured. But there have been occasions where some truly fine performances by attorneys were tinged with more than a bit of humor.
In Greensboro, the civil sessions of court are divided into two courtrooms, one for pretrial motions of all types and the other for the trials. Because I spent a big portion of my private practice arguing civil motions, the attorneys tended to load up my calendar with their motions when they learned I would be the judge; they knew they wouldn't have to spend an inordinate amount of time educating one of my brethren, many of whom had spent their careers on the criminal side of the law, on the finer points of the law when it came to civil procedure.
But they also knew that they had to be on their toes when arguing in front of me. It's ironic how much I enjoyed employing the Socratic method in court when I absolutely hated being on the receiving end of the professor's pointed questions in law school classes; I should have felt shame-faced, but I never did. I remember playing the role of ol' Socrates in one case, where the attorney was trying to persuade me to rule in his client's favor. I had read the lawyers' briefs they'd submitted and I was thoroughly familiar with where the issues were arrayed. So I began peppering him with questions based on the arguments that had been laid out in his opponent's brief, probing for legal sophistries.
When I'd finished with my questioning, it was the turn of the opposing counsel. He stood and asked for my indulgence while he rummaged in his briefcase for something. He must not have liked the way I posed my questions to his learned opponent, because he pulled out a glossy 8 X 10 studio photo of Paul Newman in his role as the woebegone attorney Frank Galvin in the 1982 movie "The Verdict" and said, "To quote the words of the immortal Paul Newman, 'Your Honor, with all due respect, if you're going to try my case for me, I wish you wouldn't lose it.'"
It's a great courtroom movie; here's the clip from YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cxwe8qwM1cE
GO CATS!
Attorneys are low-hanging fruit for the jurist who wants to write about humorous events in the courtroom. Most stories are laughable because the lawyer's performance is so dreadful. This ultimately turns out to be tinged with sadness and pity for the hapless attorney and his poor client, and the humor gets obscured. But there have been occasions where some truly fine performances by attorneys were tinged with more than a bit of humor.
In Greensboro, the civil sessions of court are divided into two courtrooms, one for pretrial motions of all types and the other for the trials. Because I spent a big portion of my private practice arguing civil motions, the attorneys tended to load up my calendar with their motions when they learned I would be the judge; they knew they wouldn't have to spend an inordinate amount of time educating one of my brethren, many of whom had spent their careers on the criminal side of the law, on the finer points of the law when it came to civil procedure.
But they also knew that they had to be on their toes when arguing in front of me. It's ironic how much I enjoyed employing the Socratic method in court when I absolutely hated being on the receiving end of the professor's pointed questions in law school classes; I should have felt shame-faced, but I never did. I remember playing the role of ol' Socrates in one case, where the attorney was trying to persuade me to rule in his client's favor. I had read the lawyers' briefs they'd submitted and I was thoroughly familiar with where the issues were arrayed. So I began peppering him with questions based on the arguments that had been laid out in his opponent's brief, probing for legal sophistries.
When I'd finished with my questioning, it was the turn of the opposing counsel. He stood and asked for my indulgence while he rummaged in his briefcase for something. He must not have liked the way I posed my questions to his learned opponent, because he pulled out a glossy 8 X 10 studio photo of Paul Newman in his role as the woebegone attorney Frank Galvin in the 1982 movie "The Verdict" and said, "To quote the words of the immortal Paul Newman, 'Your Honor, with all due respect, if you're going to try my case for me, I wish you wouldn't lose it.'"
It's a great courtroom movie; here's the clip from YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cxwe8qwM1cE
GO CATS!