The grapes of froth

Two years ago, I was doing a deposition with a witness in a very long-running, very messy and very costly reinsurance dispute. It was the third time that we had been through the process, with various parties, so we were very familiar with the facts, the issues and the questions likely to be put.

Asking the questions were two warring factions, each represented by its lawyers. Faction 1 was represented by two very high-profile, top gun “name” partners from a leading US and international practice. Big hitters, with shiny white teeth (lots of them) and immaculate coiffures (discreetly checked from time to time). We’ll call them Mr S and Mr S.

Faction 2 was represented by a young guy, from a leading Wall Street firm. He was probably about two years qualified. Let’s call him Mr K.

The questions began. Mr S and Mr S had plainly arrived with a version of events and nothing we said was going to get in the way of that story. They were glib and superficial, failing properly to listen to the answers my client gave or to follow up on answers that would have taken them in a direction helpful to their case. (Bear in mind that my client was probably the key witness in a claim worth about USD500m). They took messages on their Blackberries while asking questions; they took no notes; they made snide comments about questions asked by Mr K, trying to bully him. They joked with each other. They were unimpressive.

Mr K, on the other hand, was more considered, more thoughtful and infinitely more subtle. He, too, had come with a story, but he wished to turn it over, analyse it and see whether it still stood up. He was careful, deliberate and listened intently. He entirely ignored the antics of the Messrs. S, refusing even to acknowledge their grandstanding. At the close of the session, he thanked my client for attending.

As we left, my guy turned to me and said “Those two were clowns, but the young guy was much more scary. Polite and well-mannered, but scary.” He was right.

My bet would always be on substance over form. Repeatedly, in the City, one sees Men of Froth rising to high levels. In the law, this is particularly surprising, especially if one takes the view, as I do, that a lawyer’s prime responsibility is to those instructing him. By all means aim to make money, but let that take a slight but definite back-seat to your professional duties. It’s a matter of emphasis, but an important one, I think.

There’s commercial sense to it, too. How often one sees a firm deciding to expand in a certain area, buying in a Man of Froth with a big name to lead the way, only to find after a year or so–an expensive year or so–that there was nothing beneath the foamy exterior. No clients, no income, no growth.

You have to grow these things carefully, with good people, time, diligence and patience. It’s a little like gardening.

A silver lining to this latest financial turmoil may be to bring people back to a more realistic appraisal of what actually works in business, including in the business of law.