Galveston Pride (Kent)

The notorious Judge Samuel Kent, former U.S. District Judge for the Southern District of Texas, made his first big spash on the Strange Judicial Opinions screen in a 1996 case called Smith v. Colonial Penn Ins. Co.

A defendant in a breach of contract case in Galveston apparently insulted Judge Kent’s hometown and Southern pride when it filed a motion to transfer venue in the case from Galveston to Houston based on forum non conveniens. Defendant’s motion said Galveston did not have a commercial airport into which defendant’s agents could fly. The nearest airport was Houston’s Hobby Airport, 40 miles away.

Judge Kent was somethingless than sympathetic to defendant’s plight. He sarcastically skewered the lawyers (some paragraph breaks inserted):

Defendant should be assured that it is not embarking on a three-week-long trip via covered wagons when it travels to Galveston. Rather, Defendant will be pleased to discover that the highway is paved and lighted all the way to Galveston, and thanks to the efforts of this Court’s predecessor, Judge Roy Bean, the trip should be free of rustlers, hooligans, or vicious varmints of unsavory kind. Moreover, the speed limit was recently increased to seventy miles per hour on most of the road leading to Galveston, so Defendant should be able to hurtle to justice at lightning speed.

To assuage Defendant’s worries about the inconvenience of the drive, the Court notes that Houston’s Hobby Airport is located about equal drivetime from downtown Houston and the Galveston courthouse. Defendant will likely find it an easy, traffic-free ride to Galveston as compared to a congested, construction-riddled drive to downtown Houston. The Court notes that any inconvenience suffered in having to drive to Galveston may likely be offset by the peacefulness of the ride and the scenic beauty of the sunny isle.

As to Defendant’s argument that Houston might also be a more convenient forum for Plaintiff, the Court notes that Plaintiff picked Galveston as her forum of choice even though she resides in San Antonio. Defendant argues that flight travel is available between Houston and San Antonio but is not available between Galveston and San Antonio, again because of the absence of a commercial airport. Alas, this Court’s kingdom for a commercial airport! [Fn]

[Fn.] Defendant will again be pleased to know that regular limousine service is available from Hobby Airport, even to the steps of this humble courthouse, which has got lights, indoor plummin’, ‘lectric doors, and all sorts of new stuff, almost like them big courthouses back East.

The Court is unpersuaded by this argument because it is not this Court’s concern how Plaintiff gets here, whether it be by plane, train, automobile, horseback, foot, or on the back of a huge Texas jackrabbit, as long as Plaintiff is here at the proper date and time. Thus, the Court declines to disturb the forum chosen by the Plaintiff and introduce the likelihood of delay inherent in any transfer simply to avoid the insignificant inconvenience that Defendant may suffer by litigating this matter in Galveston rather than Houston.

And that’s how Lawhaha.com first met Judge Kent.

Smith v. Colonial Penn Ins. Co., 943 F. Supp. 782, 784–85 (S.D. Tex. 1996).

Was the Plaintiff in Hawkins v. McGee Master of His Domain?

–From Jon Avery, Georgia State University College of Law, Date of event: 2006

I, like every other 1L, got to take Contracts. And, like every other 1L in Contracts, we studied Hawkins v. McGee, aka the “hairy hand case.”

Someone asked the professor, “How do we know it was the surgery that caused the palm of the hand to be hairy? The guy could have genes that gave him a hairy palm, right?”

The professor responded, rhetorically, by asking, “What is the first thing we should ask when trying to determine whether the surgery caused the hairy palm?” The professor apparently was trying to get the student to think about what part of the body the skin was taken from to graft to the palm.

The inquiring student sat open-mouthed, unable to think of an explanation when someone in the back piped up: “Was he blind, too?”

A Pithy Take on Hawkins v. McGee

–From Professor Ann H. Britton, Georgetown Law Center, Date of event: 1972.

I was proud of one of my classmates at Georgetown in 1972 (sorry, long forgot the name of the guilty party)when he briefed Hawkins v. McGee as: “A hand with a burn is worth two with a bush.”

McClurg note. For those who have not yet studied Hawkins v. McGee or have somehow forgotten it, Hawkins is the classic case from first-year Contracts in which the defendant doctor guaranteed plaintiff, a young man with a burned hand, “a hundred per cent perfect hand” if he would let the doctor perform surgery on him. Instead of a perfect hand, plaintiff ended up with one that grew thick hair because of a skin graft from his chest.

The Great Judge Hand and His Famous Formula for … Eyebrows?

–From Erin McCaughey, Florida Coastal School of Law, Date of event: Fall 2004

Our Torts casebook (the well-known Prosser, Wade book) was livened up by photographs of certain important judges and other characters involved in the famous cases.

One prominent photo was of the great Judge Learned Hand, appearing in the middle of his opinion in U.S. v. Carroll Towing, right alongside his famous cost/benefit analysis for negligence cases.

The most prominent part of the photo was that Judge Hand had eyebrow hair that looked about 3 inches long. Not only was it long, it was incredibly thick.

One day in class, the professor asked a student, “What do we remember about Judge Learned Hand?”

“Eyebrows,” the student replied.

The class erupted with laughter, and the professor couldn’t help himself either.

You Have the Right to Shut Up

–From Élise Hendrick, University of Cincinnati College of Law, Date of event: 2002

In my Con Law class, we were discussing the “fighting words” doctrine of Chaplinsky v. New Hampshire, in which the petitioner was arrested after distributing anti-Catholic literature and delivering an anti-Catholic harangue in a heavily Catholic neighbourhood in the 1940s. Upon asking why he was under arrest, the officer suggested that he, “Shut up, you damn bastard,” to which Chaplinsky, not to be outdone, replied by calling the officer a “goddamn Fascist” and a “damn racketeer.”

The class went on for about a half hour with comments on how the cop started it, and, how, as the prof summed it up “Chaplinsky got a raw deal.” At this point, unable to resist, I raised my hand and suggested that the Court had perhaps ruled against Chaplinsky because of his apparent ingratitude: “After all, all the poor officer did was urge Chaplinsky to assert his Fifth Amendment rights and he wasn’t even required to do that yet!”

Bowers v. Hardwick Comment Subject to Interpretation

–From Jennifer Pruchnicki, University of Oklahoma College of Law, Date of event: circa 2000

Last year, my Con Law class was usually pretty interesting and lively, but the day we discussed Bowers v. Hardwick is my favorite memory.

[McClurg note: In Bowers, the U.S. Supreme Court rejected a constitutional challenge to a state sodomy statute, finding no fundamental right to sexual activity between consenting unmarried adults.]

A student raised his hand and commented to the professor “So, this case basically says that the courts can regulate what goes on in your bedroom?” After some discussion, the same student innocently mumbled, “Well, that just leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”

 

Hairy Situation

–From Jim Brewer, Willamette University College of Law, Date of event: circa 1990

I remember clearly reading and discussing the hairy hand case Hawkins v. McGee in law school. I also remember classmates looking at my own hirsute mitt and wondering if my feelings would be hurt. Fortunately, I’m not the most observant or otherwise perceptive guy, so I didn’t have clue why people were looking at my hands, tittering, and then asking about the value of a hairy hand.

Fortunately (in this time of post-traumatic torts), I finally made the connection this year. My firm works as City Attorneys for a City with brand-new council-chamber robotic cameras for televised hearings on the public access channel. These cameras are in those domes that casinos and grocery stores have, and one of them is directly over the place where I usually doze through the meetings.

Evidently the operator of the robotic camera couldn’t resist zooming the thing straight down onto my hands and leaving the camera there for most of a lengthy land use hearing.

When the Council meeting was broadcast, the City received call after call complaining about the horrible image that cluttered the upper reaches of the cable system. I have reviewed the tape. It is an extreme close-up. And these hands aren’t just matted with hair on their backs (note how I distance myself from the offending extremity). They have long, thick, black locks in two places on each finger. At one point on the tape I’m impatiently tapping a pen on the table, and it looks like a tarantula is performing an indecent act of self-abuse.

When the Court distinguishes between a “perfect hand” and a “hairy hand” what happens to my self-image? You want to talk “genuine hardship?” Even global warming is working against me, since there is virtually no chance I can wear gloves as a fashion statement. I’ve thought about boxing gloves, but typing is so damn hard …

And I think the statute has run for suing that damn contracts prof, too.

The Reasonable Meaning of an Extended Middle Finger

–From Ray Baxter, University of Arkansas School of Law at Fayetteville, Date of event: circa 1974

When I was a freshman at the University of Arkansas in Fayetteville, in Contracts we were studying the case of Lucy v. Zamer. We all remember that case in that it stands for the proposition that a person is bound by the reasonable meaning of their offer or response thereto. Professor Al Witte found the case to be of extreme significance and basically talked about it for the better part of two weeks.

One day after having thoroughly indoctrinated us concerning that case, he asked a question. He said, “Mr. Baxter, if I were to have made you an offer and you responded with an uplifted finger, preferably the middle one, what would be the reasonable meaning of your response?” I responded, “Professor Witte, that would depend on what was offered and that it was you who made the offer in the first place.”

Professor Witte was completely embarrassed by this and the entire class erupted in laughter because it was the one and only time that Professor Witte had been had throughout the entire semester. Quite a bit of humor was had during the semester, but never at his expense. He was determined not to be gotten the best of. He then told me, “Mr. Baxter, that is the most lawyer-like thing that you have uttered all semester.” He added that the key words to the answer are “it depends.”

Assumption of Risk

–From Jennifer Longo, University of Memphis School of Law, Date of event: Spring 2007

At the beginning of the year, my Torts professor made it known that we were not only allowed but encouraged to bring our friends and loved ones to class. Often, he would call on students who brought visitors so they could “impress” their guests. Realizing this might deter some from bringing visitors, he later informed us that if we didn’t want to be picked on for bringing a guest we should just let him know not to call on us. So after months of talking up his class, I finally managed to get my boyfriend of three years, who was in town for Valentine’s Day, to come to class.

On the day of the incident, I sent my professor an email to let him know that my boyfriend was coming to class, and that I didn’t feel any need to impress him so he really didn’t need to call on me. A number of students had brought their significant others to class without incident, so I naively thought it was safe. Well, “Tortman” kept his word and didn’t call on me, but the same didn’t go for my boyfriend.

Ironically, the topic for the day was spousal immunity. In the middle of the lecture, my boyfriend was introduced to the Socratic method firsthand when the professor asked him if he had any questions. He responded in the negative, but Tortman followed up anyway. He said he didn’t want to pry but, since the topic was spousal immunity, he had to ask, “Have you two discussed getting married?”

My boyfriend felt the same feeling that many law students feel when they are faced with a Socratic question to which they don’t have an answer. Stunned, he racked his brain for the correct response as the class erupted in laughter, and I turned bright red. After a prolonged response that felt like forever, my boyfriend responded “no comment.”

This wasn’t the first time that we had been embarrassed about the marriage question but this was the first time it was done in front of a class of seventy people. But I guess I should have been ready for such an event, especially since we had just finished studying assumption of risk.

Needless to say this will be a Valentine’s Day to remember. As for my boyfriend, I don’t think he’s a fan of the Socratic method.

McClurg note: As the perpetrating prof in this incident, I plead guilty to all charges.

Guilty, er, Liable, as Charged

–From Keaton Oberst, Texas Wesleyan School of Law, Date of event: Fall 2005

On the very first day of Torts, a student was reciting the facts of a case, and concluded that the defendant was found “guilty.”

“Really?” the professor asked, sounding intrigued. “He was found guilty.”

The student responded that the defendant was indeed guilty. Without warning, the professor threw himself against the wall in mock distress.

This surprising prompt allowed the student to realize her mistake in confusing civil and criminal justice. She corrected herself by saying the defendant was liable.

The professor responded, “Phew! I was worried there for a second!”

The class was amused and my colleague seemed quite embarrassed.