Last week's snippet on lawyers in this columnled to an overwhelming response from sensitive attorneys expert at arguing. It's been a pleasure hearing from a few long-lost legal friends and meeting new ones - some of them armed.
Actually, as you might expect from those who make a living being adversarial, most responses were well-articulated and based on precedent. They were all respectful. None included a bill for time spent defending their profession.Mostly it was a quid pro quo type of thing: "You punched my nose, now I'll punch yours."
It was, however, a bit disconcerting to find that the editorial board had a Tuesday meeting with attorney Charlotte L. Miller. She is president of the Utah State Bar and senior vice president and chief administrative officer for Summit Family Restaurants Inc. - the perfect person to defend you when charged with inciting a food fight.
Actually, she was articulate and thoughtful and pointed out that lawyers in Utah donate countless hours of services to people in need and to many worthy organizations and causes. She called it pro bono.
And I thought Pro Bono played quarterback for the Kansas City Chiefs.
One or two other respondents mentioned that same fact (the donated hours, not Steve Bono's quarterbacking), which is true and hit home. It occurred - with hot blush of shame - that our family was a recipient of such a gift when a good legal friend (compared with several not-so-good illegal friends and relatives) prepared family wills a few years back and adamantly refused payment.
Talk about looking a gift horse in the mouth and being ungrateful for his charitable care.
But the real hurt came when lawyer friend Bob Wilde - who challenged me to count the number of attorneys among the leadership of the predominant local religion - mocked publication of what he called the "old 1,000 lawyers in the ocean saw." He claimed to know many better jokes, which kind of stung.
It's one thing for people to challenge your opinion and overrule your arguments, but quite another when they insult your jokes.
In that unique manner attorneys have, after trashing the lame joke he presented his case for the judiciary in rather pointed fashion - then promptly asked about the family and suggested we go to lunch. Nothing like dueling to near death, then suddenly suggesting we lay down swords and cap pistols and share a Snapple.
Guess that's the discovery method, the adversarial approach - leave it all on the field or in the court of common sense and walk away pals. Lay out the facts with feeling and then let truth prevail. That's not a bad philosophy for editorial folks as well as attorneys.
Back to the jokes. I telephoned for his Top 10, asking him in the process if it's true old attorneys never die but are just granted a change of venue.
He was glad to share them. In true editorial fashion, they were winnowed to the Sweet Six. (Are they really better than last week's "What do you get when you throw 1,000 lawyers in the ocean? A good start.") In true legal fashion, you be the judge.
- How do you get a lawyer out of a tree? Cut the rope.
- Do you know how to save a drowning lawyer? Take your foot off his head.
- What is the difference between a lawyer and a trampoline? You take your shoes off to jump on the trampoline.
- What do you call a lawyer with an I.Q. of 50? Your Honor.
- What do you call a lawyer gone bad? Senator.
- When lawyers die, why are they buried in a hole 24 feet deep? Because down deep they are all nice guys.
Not bad. Just remember, they were told by a lawyer about lawyers, which makes one wonder whether they are fact or fiction. Quoting something Bob said in an e-mail message earlier in the week after an otherwise eloquent defense of his colleagues: "The fact that a lawyer says it doesn't make it any more true, it just makes it so you are likely not to understand what he said."
Down deep he's a real nice guy. And he didn't charge me for his time.