Street Lawyer For The Poor
The title of this commentary describes who I am. From $1,000 per hour for a vast US news organization, to $0 for the poor. This huge drop is in fact an elevation. Or an elevator to the power of morals. This possesses an intrinsic value that is germane to the core of human empathy for the down-trodden. Connecting reflexively with those who have a cause, but do not know how to define it, much less how to resolve it.
It all began for me by sheer accident. At the age of 63, I was coaxed by a friend, Dana Belcher, Esq. to go to law school. At that time, I had a Ph.D. in international law and organization from New York University. My Ph.D. thesis which had to do with anti-colonialism had already been published in the Hague, the home of the International Court of Justice. But without a J.D. and passing the Bar, I could not practice as an attorney.
So I applied to Cardozo Law in New York City, and was promptly admitted as a "returning student." Forty years separated between my age from that of the bulk of the student body. A reason why I never raised my hand to answer professors' questions for fear of abusing my competitive advantage. Upon graduation in 1994, I was honored by the Faculty Award for the Best Legal writing for the class of that year. In addition, I was also appointed to the adjunct faculty, teaching there for 8 years.
On a chance occasion, I stopped to buy a falafel sandwich from a street vendor by the name of Anwar. His cart was parked four blocks from the offices of my then law firm, Spector and Feldman. One day, Anwar complained to me about a crooked food inspector who expected a bribe from Anwar every time he showed up.
Feeling disgust for that extortion, I handed Anwar a legal letter to put to the face of that extortionist when he showed up. It worked like a charm. The crooked inspector fled the scene, thus confirming the good I can do as a street lawyer for the poor.
Thus the broad streets of mid-Manhattan became my city offices for which I paid no rent. This broadened my definition of a lawyer from being an "officer of the Court," to an "officer of the Court of Public Opinion." The poor became my quarry, but on a pro bono basis.
On another occasion, I happened to be at the intersection of 14th and First Ave., Manhattan. Stopping to buy fresh fruit from a cart, I witnessed a buyer handing the vendor a bill of $1. Then falsely claiming that he had handed a $10 bill. As the vendor and the scammer argued, I simply presented my business card as an attorney to the vendor. The scammer fled the scene.
Fast forward, I stopped at a D'Agostino shop to buy some items. The check-out salesperson, an Afro-American woman confided in me about a bullying landlord. From what she told me, the defective plumbing in her apartment had caused wetness on the floor. The landlord refused to make repairs. And went further to demand that that poor woman should pay for the repairs.
Stepping aside from the line of shoppers waiting to pay and leave, I wrote for her a defense statement in legalese. Giving me a big hug and saying "you are the best," I responded, "No. You have given me something nice to do."
The street has gradually become my office. I pay no rent for it; except for my city tax. And avoid giving advice on immigration.
It all began for me by sheer accident. At the age of 63, I was coaxed by a friend, Dana Belcher, Esq. to go to law school. At that time, I had a Ph.D. in international law and organization from New York University. My Ph.D. thesis which had to do with anti-colonialism had already been published in the Hague, the home of the International Court of Justice. But without a J.D. and passing the Bar, I could not practice as an attorney.
So I applied to Cardozo Law in New York City, and was promptly admitted as a "returning student." Forty years separated between my age from that of the bulk of the student body. A reason why I never raised my hand to answer professors' questions for fear of abusing my competitive advantage. Upon graduation in 1994, I was honored by the Faculty Award for the Best Legal writing for the class of that year. In addition, I was also appointed to the adjunct faculty, teaching there for 8 years.
On a chance occasion, I stopped to buy a falafel sandwich from a street vendor by the name of Anwar. His cart was parked four blocks from the offices of my then law firm, Spector and Feldman. One day, Anwar complained to me about a crooked food inspector who expected a bribe from Anwar every time he showed up.
Feeling disgust for that extortion, I handed Anwar a legal letter to put to the face of that extortionist when he showed up. It worked like a charm. The crooked inspector fled the scene, thus confirming the good I can do as a street lawyer for the poor.
Thus the broad streets of mid-Manhattan became my city offices for which I paid no rent. This broadened my definition of a lawyer from being an "officer of the Court," to an "officer of the Court of Public Opinion." The poor became my quarry, but on a pro bono basis.
On another occasion, I happened to be at the intersection of 14th and First Ave., Manhattan. Stopping to buy fresh fruit from a cart, I witnessed a buyer handing the vendor a bill of $1. Then falsely claiming that he had handed a $10 bill. As the vendor and the scammer argued, I simply presented my business card as an attorney to the vendor. The scammer fled the scene.
Fast forward, I stopped at a D'Agostino shop to buy some items. The check-out salesperson, an Afro-American woman confided in me about a bullying landlord. From what she told me, the defective plumbing in her apartment had caused wetness on the floor. The landlord refused to make repairs. And went further to demand that that poor woman should pay for the repairs.
Stepping aside from the line of shoppers waiting to pay and leave, I wrote for her a defense statement in legalese. Giving me a big hug and saying "you are the best," I responded, "No. You have given me something nice to do."
The street has gradually become my office. I pay no rent for it; except for my city tax. And avoid giving advice on immigration.
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