What’s in a Name?

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–From David Keller, University of Florida College of Law, Date of events: circa 1977

Those of you who went to schools with big-time college football programs will appreciate the following story sent to me by David Keller, a former high school classmate who graduated from the University of Florida law school the year I arrived there. (I’m not sure exactly how he did that, since we were in the same high school class and I went straight through college to law school, but David was a really smart guy. Maybe they let him skip college.)

I remember on the first day of law school, our criminal law professor, Robert Mann (since deceased), called the roll. He got to Don Gaffney, my classmate who had been the starting quarterback for the Florida Gators for the past 3 years. Don said “present.” The professor asked Don if he had a wife named _______? (maybe Mary, but I don’t remember her name now nearly 25 years later). Don said yes. Professor Mann asked if she sold lawn mowers at Sears (or something equivalent). Don said yes. Professor Mann said, completely deadpan, “I thought I recognized your name from somewhere.”

On another occasion, Professor Jeff Lewis called on a guy in our class who was always raising his hand trying to get noticed and attract attention to himself. After the guy answered a question with an obviously wrong answer, Professor Lewis sad, “Put your head down and rest a little while.” We thought that was pretty funny.

Behind Closed Doors

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–From name withheld by request, University of Arkansas School of Law, Date of event: circa 1976

I attended law school at the University of Arkansas at Fayetteville beginning in the fall of 1976 and graduating in the spring of 1979. Naturally, during my freshman year I took Torts and was privileged to be instructed by the legendary Dr. Robert A. Leflar, who at that time had come back to the University of Arkansas and was teaching for free.

Dr. Leflar was a gentleman of 78 years at this time and he taught well up into his 90s. In fact, the law school today is named for him. He was an outstanding instructor, but he was likewise the kind of instructor who instilled fear and trembling in students. One of Dr. Leflar’s requirements that was strictly adhered to was exact punctuality as far as class attendance was concerned. The class was to begin at the precise time prescribed, at which time the door to the classroom would be closed and it was not to be opened. He gave us that understanding at the very first of the year and it was adhered to.

Dr. Leflar was likewise the kind of instructor who had no fun and games as far as his repartee with students was concerned. On the occasion of one particular class session, there was one student who was just about to be late for class when he hurriedly came in the classroom. Noticing that the door was still opened, he promptly closed it behind him assuming Dr. Leflar to already be in the room. As it turned out, Dr. Leflar was out in the hall just beside the door talking with another faculty member. As Dr. Leflar turned to come in the classroom, he proceeded on remembering the door to have been open the last time he saw it, as he had just come out the door to talk to the other faculty member.

Without looking up at the door, Dr. Leflar walked square into it breaking his rather thick glasses and cutting his face. For the entirety of the class, Dr. Leflar never mentioned the incident, acted as if it had never occurred, and taught the class without any interruption whatsoever. He did this despite the fact that his face was continuously bleeding, with blood all over same, and his eyeglasses were terribly fractured. How the man read his notes was absolutely amazing. I could only conclude that he knew them by heart.

No one dared to utter even a snicker while Dr. Leflar was in the room. However, the instant class was over and Dr. Leflar departed the room, the class broke up in entirety in laughter. No one was laughing at the fact that Dr. Leflar had been injured. They merely laughed at the point that his absolute closed door rule had actually caused him problems as opposed to someone else. I guess this stands for the proposition that rules apply to everyone. One might also say that “no one is above the door.”

Attention to Detail

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–From Kathi Simpson, University of Pittsburgh School of Law, Date of event: circa 1976

I graduated from the University of Pittsburgh School of Law in 1978. We had a professor who was very cerebral, to the extent that he neglected many things that most people find routine—wearing matching socks, properly buttoning his shirt, and repairing the glasses that perpetually bore a safety pin or piece of tape on the earpiece. There are many stories about this distinguished professor but there are two that occurred in classes I attended.

The first was a Criminal Law class—the last class before the Thanksgiving break our first year. Our classroom was strangely configured in Pitt’s Cathedral of Learning (the new Law School building was only weeks away from completion).

The “room” had been, in an earlier era, a suite of offices for the dean of women (when that position existed) and entry was through some very fancy french doors flanked by glass panels. The entry was not visible from the front of the room where the professor stood. It was visible, however, from most seats in the room.

The professor brought his two young sons to class and sat them down with crayons, paper and other diversions to last the lecture (many of the students were insanely jealous). As soon as the professor assumed his position, the crayons were abandoned and the real work of the boys began. From somewhere, they produced a ball of string and some scissors (that was a scary thought). They set to work to “spiderweb” the doorway, a task they completed to the amusement of the students. Their father, however, was totally unaware of their activities even as the class collectively turned to watch the construction, paying not one bit of attention to the lecture. When he did discover the handiwork, he fumed at the culprits to remove the offending web and we all were eventually able to depart and begin the holiday.

In our second year, the same professor taught Constitutional Law. It was the much awaited lecture on obscenity and pornography that packed class that one day (being second year students, we knew that class attendance was generally harmful to your academic success). However, the chance to observe the discourse between our very liberal professor and some conservative members of our class (“but they’re ONLY amendments”) proved a big drawing card.

Our professor was given to physical gestures to emphasize his point and, as he stepped from behind the podium, he waved his arms to illustrate some sage point (now long forgotten). It became immediately obvious to those in the front rows (where people had to sit—it was that crowded) that the professor had forgotten to “zip up” that morning. The laughter rippled through the room and the professor retreated to the safety of his podium to make the necessary adjustments.

McClurg note. Coming to class unzipped is a professor’s worse fear. Most profs check their zipper at least 10 times before every class. When I first arrived at the University of Arkansas at Little Rock a long time ago, the legendary Professor Robert R. Wright pulled me aside to share an important tip: “If you’re ever teaching a class and discover your zipper’s open, just say ‘The rule in Arkansas is …’ Everyone will immediately look down to start writing feverishly and you’ll have complete privacy to correct the problem.”

“Subject” to Change

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–From Michele Quattlebaum, South Texas College of Law, Date of event: circa 1978

When I was in law school, I clerked for a personal injury defense firm. One day I was asked to pick up a long haul truck driver at the airport and shuttle him to the courthouse for trial. He was a stereotypical East Texas good ole boy type. I was young, 22ish, and drove a sports car with a stick shift. The driver was apparently nervous, as I was, riding for over 45 minutes in the car with me. He chattered continuously about what appeared to be his subject of choice—road kill—or, more specifically, armadillo meat. Apparently to some this is a delicacy. He went on for almost 30 minutes about the “different” types of meat in an armadillo, i.e., tastes like fish, chicken, beef, etc. At some point, when reaching for my shift, I grabbed his leg by accident. His conversation abruptly changed to his wife—the subject that he chattered about the rest of the trip. He apparently thought his armadillo conversation had me turned on.

Murphy’s Law as Applied to Law Student Interviewing

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–From Jennifer Bogart, University of Utah College of Law; Date of event: April 2007

The last day of my first year at law school had finally dawned, and I was happy to have survived relatively intact. I even dressed up for it: wore Doc Marten sandals with jeans and tee-shirt.

The day went well until around ten minutes to 4 pm, when panic struck. I remembered I was supposed to meet my boss at the company that had given me a fellowship—at 4 pm!—along with a student from a competing school who had also received a fellowship. I crammed everything into my rolling backpack and tore as fast as I could down the stairs through the breezeway and toward my car (which was naturally parked a good ten-minute walk away).

There I was, slightly overweight, dressed for a baseball game, quite a bit older than the usual law student, dragging my luggage behind me, wheezing (having developed asthma recently), trying to dial information with a hand that was also holding a water bottle and car keys, when all of a sudden the sole of one of my sandals came undone and started flapping every time I took a step.

I stepped out of the shoes, put them into the hand that was pulling the backpack and ran on through a gauntlet of hot pavement, what seemed like acres of glass-sprinkled asphalt (even hotter), all the while dodging cars, dog droppings, and other random unidentifiable stuff. I finally got to my car, took off for downtown and prayed to hit the green lights. Too bad, so sad; I hit all the red lights possible.

Fortunately, I found a parking place right in front of the place. I got out of the car, and started to put money in the meter, but realized I had given my last change to a friend for a soda an hour prior. Yikes, no time to spare (I was 15 minutes late by this time), so I ran up to the door of the building, through the foyer and into the elevator.

I got to the right floor and emerged to see a crowd of well-dressed people in suits all looking very calm, cool and collected, including one younger guy who I disliked on sight because he was the other fellowship student and was dressed for success.

After we had met the people we were working for, and were alone with the woman who was running the fellowship program, we were given a very pointed lecture (accompanied by very meaningful glances in my direction) about being on time and dressing professionally.

I was surprised we were not specifically told to make sure to comb our hair and WEAR SHOES to meetings like this! About a week later I got a job offer from another firm doing something I was very interested in and so never had the opportunity to prove that I own a suit!

Oh, and I got a $10 parking ticket.

The Personal Touch

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–From Jim (last name withheld on request); University of North Carolina School of Law; Date of event: Fall 2004

Three law students, all guys, lived together. They had similar GPAs and were getting interviews from a lot of the same firms. Two of them decided to gang up on the other one. They started intercepting his mail at home; specifically, his law firm rejection letters. They would steam open the letters and add “personal” handwritten notes from the interviewer at the end.

Things like:

“You may want to consider getting a better haircut.”

“You had a weak handshake.”

“You need to sit up straight and not cross your legs.”

“Don’t look me straight in the eyes. That makes me nervous”

“Need to look interviewers straight in the eye.”

“You should use better deodorant.”

“Were you hitting on me?”

Etc., etc. The best part was that the other two guys also put personal notes on their rejection letters so that the roommate thought it was a normal, common practice. Enough of us were in on the joke that we would also talk about our own personal notes.

This went on until December when a drunken classmate, at an end-of-semester party, walked up to the joke victim and said he couldn’t believe how funny the rejection letter practical joke was. The guy said, “What rejection letter practical joke?”

The good times were over.

Short, But Not Sweet

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–From Christen Millard

My boss tells of the story of the rejection letter he got from Big Law Firm X here in Columbus, Ohio. It read as follows: “We received your resume. We need not pursue this matter any further.”

That’s why we at Big Corporation A can’t hire Big Law Firm X to do anything.

The Philosophy of Insulting Job Interviewers

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–From Jeff James, Ohio State University School of Law, Date of event: Fall 2001

During the fall 2001 interview season, I had scheduled an on-campus interview with Large Firm X. I didn’t know much about the firm before I got the interview, but after it was scheduled other students told me horror stories about the firm and its attorneys. I went to the interview, but I had already decided not to take it too seriously as I REALLY didn’t want to work there.

Just before the interview, I researched the interviewing attorney’s bio. It noted that he was a member of a philosophy club, so I remembered that little fact in case I needed to make any small talk.

The interview was extremely tense; this guy was a real stiff. Toward the end, I asked him about his involvement in the philosophy club. He told me, “We are a group of about forty who get together twice a month on Saturday nights to have dinner. After dinner, one member gives a lecture on a topic and defends it to the rest of the group.”

For some reason, I said, “Well, I can’t think of a better way to spend a Saturday night!” He looked at me sternly and said, “Well, I enjoy it.”

The interview ended soon after and it was not long before I got a rejection letter from the interviewer I insulted.

Third Time’s a Charm

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–From Thomas F. Blackwell, Associate Professor at Appalachian School of Law, Duke University School of Law, Date of event: circa 1985

McClurg note: Professor Thomas Blackwell was shot and killed in January 2002 at the Appalachian School of Law by a disgruntled student. The dean and a student were also killed. Three other students were wounded. With permission, these funny law school stories of his are left up as a tribute:

During the fall interview season, our school had a large bulletin board near the downstairs vending machine area dedicated to “tube letters” (you know, the letters that firms send you to tell you that you’re “down the tubes”). Anyone could post any rejection letter they received that they considered funny, outrageous, poignant, etc. The letters often also included a short commentary from the student. Being next to the vending machines, by the placement office, and just down the hall from some of the offices where interviews were conducted, we occasionally had interviewers discover the board—and they were usually chagrined to some extent to discover that their own letters might well appear on the board.

Some examples I particularly remember include:

The “de facto” tube letter from the Honolulu District Attorney’s office that explained to the student that they didn’t have the budget in their department to fly anyone out for an office interview, but if the student ever happened to be in Honolulu, to please drop in for an interview.

The cruelest tube letter, to a student who had taken the federal civil service exam seeking a government job. They received an envelope containing a photocopy of the front page of their exam with the word “REJECTED” stamped in huge red letters across the middle.

And my favorite: Several guys lived together in a house off campus and had created their own “tube letter” board in their living room. One of them received the standard two-sentence “you were a great candidate, but you really don’t fit our current needs” tube letter from a firm he had interviewed with. Several weeks later, apparently through an administrative oversight, he received a duplicate tube letter (identical text but different date, signed by the same hiring partner) from the same firm. This pair of letters made the wall as the “we really mean it” tube letter.

Ironically, one of this student’s roommates in the house interviewed with the same firm, and was hired for a summer clerkship. He shared the multiple tube letter incident with the attorneys in the firm, and with their help created a third letter to the original student, along the lines of “In case you hadn’t figured it out from our first two letters, we really, REALLY don’t want to hire you — so don’t ever bother us again” and sent it on firm letterhead. The set of three letters made a return appearance the following fall at the school letter board.

“Is this a Bad Time to Ask About Salary?”

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–From Jim Redeker, Washburn University School of Law, Date of event: 1998

One of my classmates, who was ranked in the top ten of the class, was interviewing constantly but with no success. Having landed a job on my first interview, I offered to share my interviewing techniques with him. So he shared with me the following interview quagmire he found himself caught up in:

You are being interviewed by a senior partner and an associate of a large, out of state firm. During the interview, the associate cracks a joke at the expense of the law firm. The senior partner and the associate get into an argument as to whether the comment was appropriate and the senior partner gets up and leaves during your interview. What do you do?

I admitted that I didn’t hold a high enough class rank to interview with such high quality firms and, therefore, couldn’t answer his question.

As a side note, my classmate went on to NYU for his LLM and, I hope, better interviewing experiences.