There’s been a lot of discussion in the blawgosphere of late about money, marketing and lawyers. Scott Greenfield opined there’s too many lawyers; John Kindley responded that we need MORE lawyers, not less. Some of the undercurrent of this debate flows from the perceived ethical lapses of lawyers (ab)using social media–either blawgs or Twitter or online lawyer marketing or from the cursed & diseased “social media experts.”
Ultimately, the debate is about that root of all lawyer marketing evil: money. Scott Greenfield notes Dan Slater’s report in the New York Times, “As firms begin an industrywide overhaul, which has entailed slashing jobs and reconsidering hidebound inefficiencies like the lockstep salary, students will compete for half as many $160,000-a-year jobs this year as they did last.” Scott Greenfield then laments the loss of professionalism he sees as a consequence of too many lawyers expecting $160,000-a-year jobs:
But when there are either too many lawyers running around, or too many lawyers culled from people poorly suited to handling the responsibility of a lawyer, a mess ensues. Lawyers start taking on cases that lack merit, in the off chance that they can glom some quick money out of it. Lawyers start raiding the escrow fund to keep up appearances because the phone hasn’t rung in a while. Lawyers make promises they can’t keep to separate a client from his money, lest anyone with cash in his pocket walk out the door.
In contrast, John Kindley proposes that, rather than limit law school admission, the solution is to “turn the spigot wide open” and flood the legal profession with more lawyers. John Kindley reasons that then the “profession would undoubtedly become much less attractive to status-seekers and rent-seekers, while those who are genuinely interested in the law and have an actual talent for it would still pursue their calling on that sounder basis.”
But both Scott Greenfield & John Kindley agree on one point: too many young lawyers are joining the profession for the wrong reasons, whether it be for mo’ money or mo’ status.
“A profession is a vocation founded upon specialised educational training, the purpose of which is to supply disinterested counsel and service to others, for a direct and definite compensation, wholly apart from expectation of other business gain.” In other words, a professional is supposed to worry about more than just money.
Of course, while it’s a nice ideal, the practical reality often falls far short. The tension between vocation and remuneration in the legal profession has been there from the very beginning. Going back as far as 204 B.C., Roman advocates were barred from taking fees (wink, wink), although, as reported by John Crook in Law and Life of Rome: 90 B.C. to A.D. 212, “if Cicero did a client proud the client’s purse, friends and influence would be available to Cicero later at call.” Cicero’s fine example notwithstanding, John Crook notes that the rule against fees was infringed constantly. Although I think they’ve found some creative ways around the problem, to this day British barristers still technically collect “honorariums” and aren’t allowed to sue clients for unpaid fees.
In the Satires, Juvenal thought the problem of getting paid was a reason to avoid a career in the law:
“There’s no money in it. Argue yourself hoarse before some bumpkin of a judge–what do you get? A couple of bottles of vin rouge; and you’ve got your clerks to pay. The only way to get a name is to live like a lord; that’s how clients pick their counsel. And Rome soon eats up your capital that way. If you’re thinking of making a living by speeches you’d better get off to Gaul or Africa.”
So not much has changed in the practice of law in 2000 years. You still find bumpkin judges. (But, for the record, none of the judges I appear before are evil or unfair, at least as far as a reasonable attorney would understand those terms.) You’ve still got your clerks to pay. Some clients still pick their counsel based on their high-falutin’ ways and larger-than-life reputations. (That’s what my blood-sucking social media expert tells me, anyways. Something about, “You are what Google says you are.”) And Rome! Don’t even get me started…
So it’s off to Gaul and Africa to make the fine speeches–and today’s small town lawyer may have to settle for a couple of bottles of wine, or whatever their modern equivalent may be.
It turns out that one advantage to being a small town trial lawyer is that you find you’re already living in Gaul or Africa. You also find that your clients are more likely to be put out–not turned on–if you’re living like a lord. My clients want to be served, they want to trust me with their confidences and their livelihoods, and while they don’t mind if I like to make speeches from time to time, they’re more impressed by how I and the people I employ treat them and care about their problems.
Online marketing? Some of the highly respected lawyers in my town don’t even have a Yellow Pages ad. Relying on their hard-earned reputations, won over years and decades–not months–of consistent high-quality work, attention to detail, and earning their clients’ trust, most of my colleagues in the local bar don’t have a clue about websites, SEO, and Google placement. Twitter is beyond their comprehension and I would feel foolish just trying to explain.
The thing is, they can only dream about making $160,000-a-year and few, if any, will ever get there. Many didn’t attend a fancy-pants law school (whose graduates, by the way, are apparently expecting too much from our profession and aren’t very happy). They all expect to make a living from their chosen profession, but money was not their primary reason for becoming lawyers. I suppose status is important to them on some level, but who are we kidding? The status you get from being a small town lawyer compares to the status you get for being that family member who can program the DVR. You possess some useful, specialized knowledge–knowledge and experience that very well may help solve a confusing & frustrating situation–but you still need to empty the dishwasher when it’s your turn just like everyone else.
These small town lawyers may not be rich. They may not drive a Porsche or BMW. They may not have someone to answer their phone on a Friday at 4:54 PM and so they do it themselves. But they are hard-working, ethical, dedicated lawyers and I wouldn’t hesitate to trust them with a legal problem of my own or a close family member’s. Like all smart professionals, they’re upfront about the money. They understand their obligations to their families and the importance of being paid appropriately for their work.
But I also know that they would put all the time, energy & effort into solving that legal problem whether they were getting paid or not. I know that they take their profession seriously and that they’re as concerned about the product that goes out as they are about the money that comes in. I know that they are good, conscientious lawyers–living right here in my small town. No doubt they are a few wherever you live, too.
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