Not an April Fools' Column

Today, as usual, my column appears on the first Monday of the month.  Today is a court holiday in celebration of the birth of Cesar Chavez, the great champion of farm worker rights. Today is also April Fools' Day, but this unfortunate coincidence of the sublime and the ridiculous occurring on the same day is of no significance.  I would have preferred we celebrate Chavez's birth on his actual birthday, Sunday, March 31st.  But then we would not have a court holiday this year.  I leave it to others to decide whether or not the trade-off is worth it.  But I endorse the principle that birthdays need not be celebrated on the same date as one's actual birthday.  No disagreement from those whose birthdays occur on Christmas, New Year's, or Super Bowl day. 

          April Fools' Day, the day of practical jokes, is a tradition that goes back centuries.  There is a subtle reference to April Fools' Day in "The Nun's Priest Tale," in Chaucer's The Canterbury Tales.  Do not try, as I once did, to read the tale in the original Middle English.  I could attribute my missing the April Fools' Day reference to my deficient translation skills, but I also missed it in the modern English version.

          The first Monday in April of 1996 was the last time my column appeared on April Fools' Day.  I wrote about a series of troubling current issues that I claimed had been resolved.  "April Fools!"  Get it?  Would it not be interesting to see what I wrote about then, a sort of 17-year-old time capsule?  This brief foray into the past will be illuminating.  And it will save me the trouble of writing a completely new column this month.

          What follows are excerpts from what I wrote in 1996, with an occasional "comment" from the present. 

          The column began with a corny, yet ironic title.  (My titles today are much better.)

GOOD NEWS-READ ALL ABOUT IT!

          "What's the good news?"  This seemingly naive question invariably produces a patronizing yawn from the blasé.  A typical response is:  "Haven't you heard, darling, there isn't any." 

          If we narrow our inquiry to the judiciary and the legal profession, we get a similar response:  "Haven't you read the advance sheets?" or "Haven't you read the papers?"

          I have, but I don't think I have asked the wrong question.  There's no denying that headlines scream bad news at you.  News items drip with scandal, opprobrium, negation and disapproval.

          If you're like me, you're ready for a change.  There are positive changes afoot and I'm happy to report the following good news:

1.       MONCHARSH OVERRULED.  

          In Moncharsh v. Heily & Blase (1992) 3 Cal.4th 1, our Supreme Court held that courts must confirm arbitration awards even when the arbitrator commits egregious errors which appear on the face of the award and which cause substantial injustice.  The Supreme Court now sees the wisdom of Justice Joyce Kennard's dissent, and finds it unseemly for courts to be instruments of injustice.  It therefore intends to reverse itself on Moncharsh.  Comment - I wrote the unpublished, routine Moncharsh Court of Appeal opinion, which my colleagues concurred.  The California Supreme Court granted review, and something remarkable happened.  We were affirmed.  But our dicta were reversed (sounds horrible, but "dicta" is plural).  Today, Moncharsh is applied with more flexibility and less fervor and zeal than when it was first decided. 

2.       MORADI-SHALAL OVERRULED. 

          In Moradi-Shalal v. Fireman's Fund Ins. Companies (1988) 46 Cal.3d 287, our Supreme Court overruled its earlier opinion in Royal Globe Ins. Co. v. Superior Court (1979) 23 Cal.3d 880, which allowed third party bad faith claims against insurance companies.  Our high court has renounced its judicial activism and intends to overrule Moradi-Shalal. 

3.       ASSUMPTION OF THE RISK-A PIECE OF CAKE. 

          In Knight v. Jewett (1992) 3 Cal.4th 296, our Supreme Court offered a scholarly exegesis on the doctrine of assumption of risk and explained its application in light of the doctrine of comparative negligence.  Judges, lawyers and commentators now fully understand the majority, concurring and dissenting opinions.  It is easy to distinguish between primary and secondary assumption of the risk, and there is universal agreement as to what the case means.

4.       THE DISMISSAL OF MOTIONS TO DISMISS. 

          Trial courts are reevaluating their rulings on motions brought to dismiss for failure to prosecute under Code of Civil Procedure section 583.410. 

          Even though cases must be brought to trial with dispatch, trial courts are becoming more understanding when plaintiff's counsel misses the statutory time limits.  In a remarkable unanimity of action, trial courts throughout the state have come to the same realization:  dismissing cases for failure to prosecute only temporarily purges cases from the system.  The malpractice actions that inevitably follow such dismissals clog the trial and appellate courts with even more cases.  The lawyer whose case was dismissed becomes a defendant in an action brought by the former client.  The lawyer's insurance company, who contends there is no coverage, has to defend the bad faith action brought against it by the attorney.  If the former client gets a judgment, there may be even more actions to collect the judgment.

          Trial courts intend to exercise their discretion so as to give lawyers who offer reasonable excuses for delay the opportunity to try their cases on the merits.  Comment - Today an attorney's excusable neglect often saves the bacon.  (See Code Civ. Proc., § 473.)

5.       GOOD FAITH? BAD FAITH? SEARCH ME?  

          In United States v. Leon (1984) 468 U.S. 897, the United States Supreme Court held that an invalid search warrant could be upheld if the police officers serving it have a good faith belief in its validity.  Many court observers have complained that the Leon case emasculated the Fourth Amendment.  The United States Supreme Court is asking itself an important question:  What is the purpose of having the Fourth Amendment if it can so easily be violated?  Although some justices are in favor of its outright abolition, other voices have prevailed.  The signature of a well-meaning magistrate on a defective warrant will no longer be acceptable, no matter how much good faith the cops have.  A new decision disapproving Leon will be out soon.  It will be written by either Judge Scalia or Judge Thomas.  

6.  CIVILITY REIGNS. 

          All members of the bar have come to realize they are members of a noble profession.  They now all take enormous pride in their work, and treat each other with respect and civility.  The request for a continuance or a stipulation on virtually any matter need not be memorialized in writing.  A lawyer's word will suffice.  Therefore, trial courts will no longer be called upon to settle petty disputes over these issues.

7.       NEW DISCOVERY ABOUT DISCOVERY. 

          Discovery statutes actually facilitate discovery.  They are making the exchange of information between counsel pleasurable and easy.  Instead of misusing the discovery law to impede discovery, counsel now readily exchange pertinent information.  Courts no longer are burdened with annoying discovery motions, and discovery referees have become as essential as carbon paper. 

8.       BYE-BYE SANCTIONS. 

          Sanctions are a thing of the past.  Due in large part to items 6 and 7, attorneys rarely ask for them.  Even when they do, courts are loath to grant them.

9.       HARMLESS ERROR IS HARMFUL. 

          Harmless error is being used more sparingly in criminal cases.  That is because courts refuse to use this doctrine as a substitute for rigorous analysis.  Prosecutors refuse to rely on harmless error as a safety net for a well-tried and thoroughly researched case. 

10.     DEPUBLICATION DEPUBLISHED. 

          Our Supreme Court has refused to depublish cases in order to control its case flow.  Comment - Today depublication is rare, and few practitioners would argue it is not appropriate when it does occur.

11.     THREE STRIKES IS OUT. 

          The public thinks the Three Strikes initiative is too draconian.  It is about to replace that law with something different--a life sentence for violent repeaters, instead of for those recidivists who steal a pizza or a carton of cigarettes.  Comment - Looks like there are "changes afoot." 

          I could go on, but this generous sample of good news proves there is more to look forward to than misery and tribulation.  But to be fair, we should acknowledge the bad news.  I have only one item to report:  today's date.

          Comment - So ends my 1996 column.  Unlike that column, this one does not seek to play a joke on the reader.  But because some of my April Fools' Day predictions in 1996 became a reality, there may be cause for cautious optimism about the future.  If I write that funding will soon be restored to the courts so that all citizens will have access to justice, do you think it will happen soon?  But this is no joking matter.  I can only hope that it will before the passage of 17 years.

The enduring legacy of California’s Premier Justice Stanley Mosk

This column illustrates that our lives are like electricity, filled with connections.  But to make a connection one has to plug in and flip on the switch.

         But first a caveat:  In this, my 210th column, you will be exposed to bursts of effusive praise for one of California's and the country's premier jurists, Stanley Mosk.  You will also encounter a paean or two for his son, also a jurist of uncommon ability, Court of Appeal Justice Richard Mosk.  That was paean No. 1.

         Next a disclosure:  Close to 50 years ago, Richard Mosk and I sat at opposite ends of the counsel table.  We represented our respective clients in a lawsuit involving a motor home company, (my firm’s client), that had been acquired by a mega corporation, (Richard’s client). The lawsuit was hotly contested, but Richard and I maintained a civil relationship and kept our sense of humor throughout the proceedings.  A friendship developed that has endured to the present. 

         When Richard learned of my appointment to the Los Angeles Municipal Court in 1975, he asked if I would like his father to administer the oath of office.  I could not imagine a greater honor than to be sworn in by one of the nation's most respected jurists.  On a warm Labor Day, an affable and gracious Justice Stanley Mosk swore me in at Richard and Sandy Mosk's home with family and friends in attendance.  We all downed a glass of champagne or two, and the next day I heard my first traffic ticket case.  I ruled against the pro. per. protesting the charge of an unsafe lane change, immediately establishing my bona fides as a law and order judge.  The pro. per. appealed.  That I cannot recall the outcome of the appeal could mean that my decision was reversed.

         Enough about me.  But before we get back to the Mosks, a disclaimer:  True, I admire the Mosks.  Nevertheless, I apply here, with the same steadfast and undeviating rigor, the fairness and objectivity reflected in my opinions over the past three-and-a-half decades 

         I commend to your reading, Justice Stanley Mosk, A Life at the Center of California Politics and Justice, by Jacqueline R. Braitman and Gerald F. Uelmen (McFarland & Company, Inc., 2012). 

         As the book's introduction aptly notes, "The life of Stanley Mosk has much to teach us about politics and justice in America."  Mosk had a part to play in many of the important and "epochal defining moments of the 20th century."  "From his arrival to California in 1933, he was fully engaged in the civic, social and political life of his community, state and nation."  His tenure as the longest serving Justice on the California Supreme Court (1964-2001) afforded him the opportunity to author ground-breaking opinions that reflected impeccable scholarship, superb craftsmanship, and the clear elucidation of constitutional principles of enduring value.

In a well-researched and engrossing narrative, Ms. Braitman and Professor Uelmen tell us the eventful and colorful life story of Stanley Mosk.  Mosk overcame the obstacles of anti-Semitism and fought for civil liberties long before it was fashionable to do so.  He rose to prominence in Jewish and Democratic political circles.  You will be treated to a compelling account of the contentious and irrepressible world of politics in California in which Mosk played a prominent role.  Mosk chaired and served on organizations during the Depression in the 30's that promoted social justice and good government during an era of corruption in Los Angeles when Frank Shaw reigned as mayor.  Many meetings of these reform organizations took place at Clifton's Cafeteria in downtown Los Angeles.  It was about a decade later when my grandmother often took me to lunch at Clifton’s and afterwards to a movie and the vaudeville show at the downtown Orpheum Theatre.  By that time Stanley Mosk had made Los Angeles a better place.

The engaging account of Mosk's career demonstrates that opportunity is often dependent upon luck, fortuitous circumstance and the talent and ability of the person upon whom luck shines its light.  Mosk's odyssey from Chicago to California and his involvement in social movements and politics led to his appointment as Gov. Culbert Olson’s Executive Secretary.  During the last hours of Olson's term of office, he called Stanley in the middle of the night and told him to fill in his name on the commission for the Los Angeles County Superior Court, making him, at age 30, the youngest superior court judge up to that time ever to sit on the superior court in California.

When a challenger in the next judicial election called Mosk "the child judge," the quick-witted Mosk replied, "Better a child than someone in their second childhood."  Mosk won the election "with the largest vote ever received by a judge in Los Angeles County."  The young, energetic Mosk proved to be up to the job and early on displayed his sensitivity to racial injustice in a decision that enunciated a principle that would become embedded in our country's constitutional law doctrine. 

In Wright v. Drye, Mosk struck down as unconstitutional a racial restrictive covenant in a deed to property purchased by a black couple.  His eloquent opinion presages the masterfully written opinions that he authored years later on the California Supreme Court.  He wrote, "'Our nation has just fought the Nazi race superiority doctrine.  One of these defendants was in that war and is a Purple Heart veteran.  This court would indeed be callous if it were to permit him to be ousted from his own home by using "race" as the measure of his worth as a citizen and neighbor.' … 'We read columns in the press each day about un-American activities.  This court feels there is no more reprehensible un-American activity than to attempt to deprive persons of their homes on a "master race" theory.'"

And can you believe it?  Mosk also wrote a weekly, not a mere monthly column, widely circulated in a number of local papers.  His columns were humorous and informative.  I can only wonder, how did he do it?  

         Mosk became Attorney General of California in 1958, winning the election with the largest margin of victory of any candidate in any contested election in the country.  He formed a Constitutional Rights Division in the office and pioneered enforcement of constitutional rights for all citizens so that minorities enjoyed the same protections as others.  For example, he induced the Professional Golfers' Association (the PGA) to avoid a lawsuit and abandon the "Caucasian Clause" in their contract. 

         Mosk became a figure of national prominence.  He was close to John and Robert Kennedy and other prominent political figures and was touted as the best candidate to represent California in the U.S. Senate.  There were other possibilities for public office that did not materialize.  Robert Frost's "The Road Not Taken" speaks to the dilemma we face in the choices we make in our lives and careers.  But Mosk chose roads upon which he encountered detours occasioned by the unanticipated vicissitudes of life.  The seemingly endless opportunities that lay open to him ultimately led him to the road he may not have anticipated - the road to the  California Supreme Court where he became one of its most influential and respected jurists. 

        

         The reader will glimpse some of the maneuvering and drama that occurs in our Supreme Court and how its atmosphere is affected by the personality and administrative skill of the Chief Justice.  The reader gains insight into "The Mosk doctrine," which provides wider, more expansive constitutional protection under independent state constitutional grounds than is provided under the U.S. Constitution.

         The chapters on Mosk's tenure on the Supreme Court are riveting.  The analysis of cases Mosk and his colleagues authored demonstrates that considerations of policy and practicality often support, in part, the court's rationale.  The discussion of Bakke v. Regents of the University of California (1976) 18 Cal.3d 34, authored by Mosk, is particularly incisive.  A particular case can engender derision and criticism from some quarters when it is issued, but with the passage of time garner praise for its reasoning.  Mosk and a majority of the court held that affirmative action based on a racial quota system in college admissions was unconstitutional.  Many came to realize after a clear and objective analysis that Mosk’s rejection of racial quotas in Bakke was in fact consistent with his decision decades earlier on racially restrictive covenants in Wright v. Drye.

         "Justice Stanley Mosk" is a well written biography that will grab your attention and hold it captive.  You can order a copy at www.mcfarlandpub.com. 

        

         Question:  Do parents pass on their talent and acumen to their offspring?  J.S. Bach and Stanley Mosk prove that they do.  To stay in that absorbing Mosk kind of mood, I next commend to your reading the "Oral History" of Stanley's son, Court of Appeal Justice Richard Mosk, which appears in California Legal History, Journal of the California Supreme Court Historical Society (Vol. 7, 2012), edited by our much-appreciated Renaissance woman, lawyer, composer, musician Selma Moidel Smith. 

In an enlightening interview, Richard's son and Stanley's grandson, Emmy winning investigative reporter and producer for ABC News, Matthew Mosk, asks his father Richard questions about his career.  Richard speaks of his work on the Warren Commission and his experiences as a judge on the Iran-U.S. Claims Tribunal and offers observations about Stanley Mosk.  Even if I had not written the introduction to Richard's "Oral History," it would be no less readable and informative.

        

What Does Age Got To Do With It?

         There is a proliferation of bar associations and their subset "bar sections."  They are multiplying like bacteria on Viagra.  I thought it was distinction enough to be lawyer, to have passed the bar examination, enabling one to practice in most any field and join a specialty bar association, even before one knows anything about the specialty. 

         We have bar associations named after the field in which its members claim expertise.  And many lawyers belong to more than one specialty bar association.  What does a specialist in Admiralty Law know about Cyberspace Law or Fashion and Apparel Law?  Yes, there is such a specialty.  We also have bar associations bearing the names of countries, geographic regions large and small, and the ethnic and cultural backgrounds of its members.  I appreciate the pride one takes in his or her heritage, but the Left-Handed Lawyers with Type AO Blood Bar Association may be carving out a niche too narrow. 

        

         In a similar vein, the Los Angeles County Bar Association boasts a large list of special sections.  There is a relatively new section for the aged, the Senior Lawyers.  Members of the section asked me to be the emcee for their "Trailblazers" awards program last year.  The Senior Lawyers sought me because I was "a natural."  I was highly offended.  I thought they were from the "Senile Lawyers" section.  I expected the event to include dinner at 4:30, bingo after the speeches, and Jello for dessert.  I was wrong about that.   

         One has to place the moniker "senior" in context.  It often signifies an unmistakable cache when, for example, it precedes the word "partner."  Not so often the case when it precedes "account representative" or "service advisor."  But even when "senior" signifies prestige, such status is evanescent.  It vanishes at the crossing of an inevitable time line; the senior partner acquires a new epithet:  "retired" senior partner. 

         I admit I am sensitive about the "age thing."  In one of my columns, I wrote that I was in my seventh decade when, in fact, I am in my eighth.  I was "jumped" into the AARP.  I turned them into the authorities for possible prosecution as a gang, but the judge who denied my motion for injunctive relief was a charter member.  True, I have been a member of AARP for 20 years and I do enjoy the discounts.  It is just so irritating the way they hound you to join, even before you are eligible.  They recruit when you become old enough to vote.  An elderly gentleman knocked on my door and tricked me into signing a membership application under the pretense that I would receive a free subscription to the Watchtower.

         The courthouse where I try to figure out what young lawyers are writing about in their briefs is in Ventura, a few blocks from the fairgrounds.  Now and then I go to the annual Ventura County Fair to see the pig races.  I will tell you about the pig races in a minute.  But first a little about the disturbing incident at the ticket booth.  I approached the booth, which is a kind of cage, and told the large, pleasant ticket lady seated behind the bars that separated us that I wished to purchase a ticket.  I surmised she was in her mid-50's.  (Although her age might have marginal relevance to my narrative, I mention it because she could well have belonged to AARP.)  She smiled broadly and tore off a small red ticket from her roll of tickets.  Note this fair has a definite 1940's atmosphere to it.  The perceptive reader might have gathered as much from the very mention of a pig race. 

         The ticket lady told me the price of admission.  It was markedly below the listed admission price.  I immediately informed her that she had undercharged me.  She smiled a good-natured, grandmotherly smile and said, "You get the senior discount."  Needless to say, I was incensed.  I inquired, "Wouldn't you like to see my driver's license?"  Can you believe it?  She broke into peals of laughter.  She told me to "go on into the fair, honey," and enjoy myself.  She reminded me there were several benches throughout the fairgrounds.  I was furious, but my mood brightened at the prospect of watching the pig races.

        

         The fair has many attractions.  I love to talk to the kids who belong to the 4-H clubs and hear about their goats, cows, lambs and hogs.  And there is a terrific hypnotist.  I asked him to come to one of our conferences at the court.  I thought he could help me get another vote, but he refused.  But as I mentioned, the pig races truly capture my attention.  At the starting bell, little piglets race around a miniature track and spectators like me cheer them on.  We place informal bets and the winner gets a generous helping of corn meal.  I cannot say what the winning piglet gets.  What do the pig races have to do with seniors?  Good question.  I mention it only because I think it is beside the point that the spectators are mostly little kids and seniors. 

         At the Trailblazers awards program last year, the Senior Lawyers honored two highly distinguished members of the legal profession, Presiding Justice Joan Dempsey Klein and Attorney Nowlan Hong.  All agree that they each had earned their distinguished stripes before and after they were assigned senior status.  All agree they are no less or more worthy of our respect because they have Medicare Cards. 

         And last week at this year's Trailblazers awards program, I was the emcee for honorees Supreme Court Justice Joyce Kennard and Attorney Patricia Phillips.  The appellation "senior" applies more to their achievements than to their age. 

         When Justice Kennard was a child, she was interned with her mother in a Japanese prison camp in New Guinea during World War II.  Her inspiring journey to the United States eventually led to her appointment to the California Supreme Court where she distinguishes herself as a precise and eloquent writer no matter what the issue or subject matter.

 

         Patricia Phillips is one of our premier family attorneys.  She opened, then unhinged the doors that had been closed to women lawyers for so many years.  She became the Los Angeles County Bar's first female president in 1984, and proved beyond all doubt that women in high places do great things.  After Ms. Phillips' term of office, just look at the women who rose to leadership roles in the local bar associations and in the State Bar. 

         Pat told me that being a "senior" in the legal profession is like a medicine, a good tonic to give us renewed energy and vigor.  I agree, but sometimes when I realize that I am a "senior," I hear in the recesses of my brain a low-pitched voice rapidly uttering warnings like what one hears in a television ad for a prescription medicine:  "may cause extreme depression, sudden mood changes, hives, jittery nerves, suicidal tendencies, fear of heights, depths, open and closed spaces, German Shepherds, and Shepard's Citations."

         But when that happens, I know how to get in a good mood.  I go to the pig races and cheer them on.   

An Alternate Universe for the New Year

         Lawyers who yearn for a satisfying professional life are often chagrined to find that the practice of law is not as fulfilling as they expected or, to be more precise, not at all what they expected.  But after law school, what did they expect? 

         A few years ago, Vance Woodward, who had been a civil litigator for eight years, realized that "civil litigators are typically a far cry from trial lawyers."  He did not get to try cases.  Today, it is even less likely for civil litigators to be trial lawyers.  The odds would be greatly improved if there were courts in which to try cases.

         Woodward's answer to his frustrating dilemma was to take a two-year vacation.  He wrote about it in the Daily Journal, November 28, 2012, in an article entitled Realizing the 'Great Escape from Reality.'  Among other things, he climbed Mount Aconcagua in Argentina, "the highest peak in the world outside Asia"; he went kite and sand boarding, rock climbing and cliff jumping; he scuba dived, brawled with a green moray, and counted underwater fauna populations in Honduras; and he wrote three books.  Now he's back and looking for a job as a litigator.

         Years ago when I was a "litigator," I thought of making my own great escape, and in a way I did.  Only, unlike Woodward, I had my fingers crossed.  I was reminded of my pseudo escape that had occurred decades past when I read about the recent passing of the world's master Indian sitar player, Ravi Shankar.  The sitar is a long-stringed instrument that looks like a guitar with a medical condition.  If guitars were on a basketball team, they would want the sitar to be the center.  In the 60's (no one says 1960's, not even Republicans), I was a young lawyer. 

         After a day of mind-numbing depositions, I attended a concert at the Music Center, featuring Ravi Shankar and the great tabla drummer Alla Rakha.  I was knocked out by the complex rhythms Rakha's nimble fingers produced on the tabla drums, and the inventive, improvised lines Ravi Shankar could endlessly create.  The richness of Indian music's microtonalities, the "inflections" or tones that occur between individual notes of our Western twelve-tone chromatic scale, blew me away.

         Instead of walking out of the law practice and moving to India to study Indian music, I decided to learn to play the tabla drums at night at a conservatory of Indian music that Shankar created in Los Angeles.  This was to be my escape, my adventure.  I studied with the master player Alla Rakha and later with the master teacher Taranath Rao.  My study was intellectually and artistically challenging, but it had its physical demands as well.  I had to overcome seemingly insuperable barriers.  Let me explain by describing my instrument, the tabla drums.  They are two small drums that look somewhat like kettles.  A cow or goat skin is stretched over the top of each drum.  The player strikes the drums with his or her fingers and palm, creating a variety of sounds.  The left drum is shaped like a squat bowl and is the bass drum.  The right drum is narrower, has a smaller head and produces a higher tone.  The drums are placed on either side of the player who must sit cross-legged while playing. 

         Most of the "standards" and jazz tunes with which we are familiar are played in "4," four beats to a measure.  But I had to learn to play in "11" or "17," or any other number of beats.  That alone was hard enough to learn, but the position in which I had to sit, on the floor, my legs crossed in front of me, was a challenge I could not meet.  I am not flexible.  I am talking here about physical flexibility.  Still it does not sound good for a judge to be inflexible.  I attained a modicum of proficiency on the tabla drums, but neither yoga, nor intense stretching made me limber so that I could sit in one position cross-legged for more than a few minutes at a time.

         Nevertheless, I persevered in my determination to create a separate reality apart from "litigating," to also exist in a non-parallel universe.  In my day world, I was unflappable trial lawyer (a front:  in truth, I was intensely flappable), dressed in stylish Italian suit, monogrammed shirt and silk tie.  But in my night world, I was a player of Indian music, seated (although in agony) before my tabla drums, dressed in my Indian outfit.  I strived to produce rhythms that would create awe and wonder in an American audience.

         For a while I kept my musician identity secret.  No opposing counsel, no judge, not even my partners knew anything of my other universe.  But one evening Los Angeles Times columnist Art Seidenbaum, who also hosted a television show on the arts for public television, showed up at the school with a television crew.  He filmed us playing, and the camera caught me in my full Indian garb, sitting before my tabla drums like a misshaped pretzel about to break.  A week later I attended a local bar function attended by many lawyers and judges.  I was surprised to learn how many had seen the show.  My alternate universe had been discovered.  It was the big topic of the evening.  They remarked more about my apparel and awkward pose than my music. 

         The trial lawyer in me had to find a way out of this fix.  Let me first explain that nothing irritates me more than people who feel a sense of self-importance because of people they know.  Yes, I had met some famous people at the school.  The great violin virtuoso Yehudi Menuhin and I compared Western and Indian music.  And, yes, Beatle George Harrison and I chatted at length about Indian rhythmic patterns.  Ho hum.

         Can you imagine anyone more pathetic than a person who seeks recognition by whom that person knows rather than by whom that person is?  But when the bar attendees asked me if I knew any of the famous people who were buddies of Ravi Shankar, I did let it be known that I had met George Harrison and Yehudi Menuhin.  Well, what would you have done?  I had to divert attention away from my white robe, beads and bare feet.  Through my fleeting association with "the great," I gained respect and a respite from ridicule.

         After a year or two, I took my leave of Indian music.  My body could not handle it.  And I vowed never again to capitalize on my brief association with the famous artists I had met.  And I kept that pledge, except when I taught a course on American jurisprudence in Moscow with retired Judge Judy Chirlin.  We traveled one evening to a small town outside the city to have dinner with her cousins who lived there.  They were gracious hosts and welcomed me as if I were one of the family.  On the mantelpiece of their home were two photos, one of Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky and the other of Yehudi Menuhin.  How could I resist?  I told them of my meeting with the great master.  I believe my celebrity status earned me extra servings of borscht.

 

         I acknowledge that my adventure does not compare to Woodward's.  He battled a green moray.  The closest I came to a clash with a wild animal was in Kenya in 1977.  My party and I were in the wilds at a campground near a river.  I was sitting on the ground outside my tent going though my belongings.  A mongoose, reported to be a camp pet, approached me.  I offered a friendly greeting, but the mongoose went straight to my camera bag and proceeded to fling out of the bag, one by one, all of its contents.  I pushed him away, and he pushed right back with his little claw-like forepaws while emitting high pitched whistle sounds.  No sooner would I get something back in the bag, than he would throw it out again.  The pushing encounter ended with a ferocious battle over a lens and a roll of film.  The altercation came to a close with the mongoose keeping the film and me keeping the lens.  I won.  The film had been over-exposed.

         The legal profession can be one of the most demanding.  It requires constant attention to detail and at times can make the embattled lawyer feel like he or she is in a protracted match with morays, green or otherwise.  But for you lawyers who have not had the opportunity to take a break from the demands of your practice, I advise you to consult Tim Tosta's insightful columns in the Daily Journal on how to live a full and gratifying life as a lawyer.  He will take you on adventures that explore the wondrous terrain of the inner life.

         Woodard took a leave of absence and for two years lived a life most of us only dream about.  Like many in and out of the professions, he is looking for a job.  I am convinced he will find one that suits him, and he will be all that more accomplished in whatever he does because of those two years.  I am also convinced that the more lawyers explore their inner and outer worlds, the more wisdom and insight they gain into handling cases, clients, opposing counsel and judges.  And, yes, the adventures that enhance a lawyer's life and profession apply to judges too.  These explorations belong on a list for New Year's resolutions.  And in whatever universe you inhabit, may you enjoy a Happy New Year.