There were things that I did in Ecuador in the foreign legal system that were I felt appropriate for the foreign legal system based on what I observed as an American lawyer. And there are things down there that, no, would not be appropriate here.
The popular conception of “lawyer” — as seen on television and in the movies — is that of a litigator. Understandably, law students are also susceptible to this view and will be so as long as the case method remains the pedagogy of choice in law school. Cases, by definition, are always about litigation. Both popular culture and the law school curriculum show lawyers most often in court or, at least, investigating the facts of the case. However, the truth of litigation practice is very different: the overwhelming majority of litigators’ work takes place outside the courtroom. Never mind that upwards of 90 percent of all lawsuits settle before trial or that most litigators’ spend their actual in-court time arguing procedural motions rather than the substance of the dispute. Oh, and there’s also doc review.
Anyway, most new associates and law students who aspire to Biglaw are going to be confronted with a question. To grossly generalize and simplify: am I a litigator or a transactional attorney? Many would say that there are distinct personality types best suited for each. Are you a win-lose kind of person or a win-win kind of person? Do you enjoy confrontation? Do you care if you ever see the inside of a courtroom? How important is the predictability of your schedule? And so on. (Of course we must acknowledge that wrestling over such questions is the classic “luxury problem.” For the majority of law students, what follows is, at most, of voyeuristic interest.)
For those in a position to choose, which Biglaw shop’s litigation departments offer the highest quality of life? We’ve dug into our survey data for answers…
Earlier this week, Weil Gotshal reaffirmed its commitment to the Texas legal market. That commitment had been called into question by a spate of partner departures in recent weeks.
It’s worth noting, though, that Weil’s statement focused mainly on Dallas, which is Weil’s largest outpost in Texas. The statement was issued to the Dallas Business Review by Glenn West, Weil’s Dallas managing partner, so the Dallas focus is understandable. But it’s also fair to say that while Weil appears committed to Dallas, its commitment to Houston is weaker.
Indeed, after Houston managing partner John Strasburger recently departed, taking three other partners with him, some of our sources are wondering: Will the Weil office in Houston endure? And if not, who wants to swoop in and fill that gap?
When this lawyer took to the pages of a local industry mag to dispense general advice about depositions, she probably figured she was tossing out some non-controversial observations and maybe boosting her own profile. Hopefully it could drum up some business.
She probably didn’t count on kicking over a hornet’s nest of fellow lawyers, who ripped her advice and went so far as to accuse her of violating local ethics rules.
Hey, there’s no such thing as bad publicity, right?
When you’re a real litigator — at a firm, in the trenches, arguing stuff and getting your hands dirty — you see and hear the coolest things.
So I’m sharing a couple of litigation war stories with you today, and soliciting you to share others in the comments.
I’m in the California Court of Appeal in San Francisco. My case is third or fourth on the calendar, so I’m watching the arguments before mine. In the first case, the appellant had been convicted of a bunch of gruesome crimes. It was hard to tell without having read the briefs, but the litany plainly included rape, murder, and the desecration of a corpse. Defense counsel had not exactly lucked out in the selection of an appellate panel: He was arguing to three female judges, all of whom had formerly been prosecutors.
For reasons not entirely clear, counsel was trying to reverse the conviction for desecration of a corpse. He insisted that no evidence supported the verdict, because there was no evidence (I kid you not) that the defendant had jammed the stones inside the victim after she had died. As one of several arguments, counsel tried an appeal to reason. He asked the (seemingly) rhetorical question: “But why would my client have shoved rocks inside the body after she was dead?”
The question wasn’t so rhetorical, after all. One of the judges leaned forward incredulously and asked, with a snarl: “Excuse me, but . . .
Ed. note: This is the latest installment in a series of posts from the ATL Career Center’s team of expert contributors. Today, Sunny Choi interviews a judicial clerkship veteran with some helpful advice for aspiring clerks.
It’s open season for clerkships and you’ve probably already been inundated with resources from your law school’s career office. Sure, those are the “official” resources, but don’t you want to know what it’s really like to go through the clerkship application process? This month, I probed the brain of a judicial clerkship veteran to give you the inside scoop.
1. Do you have any interview tips particular to interviewing for a clerkship?
Folks often ask me if there’s anything I did at a law firm that I now miss in my in-house role.
The truth is that there are a ton of things I miss. (That doesn’t mean that, overall, I regret having moved in-house. It just means that life involves trade-offs, and moving in-house, like everything else, has both advantages and disadvantages.)
What do I miss most about law firm life? Playing the good parts of the litigation game: I loved dismembering an expert witness at deposition and knowing that we’d never hear from the guy at trial. I loved arguing motions and, more than that, appeals (because the stakes on appeal were typically higher and the panel better prepared than a single judge hearing motions). I loved fretting about a legal issue for weeks, having an epiphany, and suddenly knowing how a client would escape a thorny problem. And I loved the camaraderie of a trial site and the excitement of awaiting a jury verdict.
So here’s today question (with the answer after the jump, of course): If you say you love arguing appeals, why don’t you argue some? Tell outside counsel that you appreciate the help he provided in the trial court and writing the appellate brief, but that you’re going to argue the appeal. You’re the in-house lawyer; you pay the bills; you can do this. If you want to argue appeals, why don’t you?
- Biglaw, Hedge Funds / Private Equity, Lateral Moves, Litigators, Musical Chairs, Partner Issues, Partner Profits, Texas, Vicious Infighting
If the Houston office of Weil Gotshal & Manges ends up shutting down in the wake of the recent partner defections, management in New York might not shed a tear. In fact, it might have been part of their master plan.
As one Weil source told us, the Houston litigation defections were “not a surprise,” since the June layoffs “took away all but one assistant and all of the associates. The associates that were allowed to stay were switched to contract positions and have since left. Basically, it was an elimination by New York of the Houston group from the bottom up.”
Dallas, however, is a different story. It’s more of a standalone office, with a more diversified mix of practices, and it makes a bigger contribution to the firm’s bottom line.
But the latest partner departures do raise serious questions about its future. Which Dallas partners just left, and where are they going?
- Biglaw, Lateral Moves, Litigators, Musical Chairs, Partner Issues, Partner Profits, Texas, Vicious Infighting
Last Friday, we broke the news of four partners in Houston leaving the powerhouse firm of Weil Gotshal & Manges. This news came just a week after eight partners in Dallas announced their move to Sidley Austin.
In today’s episode of “As The Weil Turns,” we’ll reveal the identities of the Houston defectors, then explore the possible reasons for their leaving Weil….
(Please note the multiple UPDATES at the end of this story.)
I took the train to Paris recently. (Sorry — I can’t help myself. I just love typing those words.)
That gave me an uninterrupted two hours to edit a document on the way to Paris and another uninterrupted two hours to edit a document on the way home.
The experiences couldn’t have been more different.
What’s odd is that it wasn’t the quality of the drafts that made the experiences different for me (the editor), but rather the quality of the reactions that I anticipated receiving from the authors.
How can that be? How can an editor enjoy revising one document and loathe revising another based solely on the anticipated responses to the edits? And what lessons might that teach the author (the person being edited)?