During my first year of practice, Gary was often the only firm partner who invited me to work on special projects with unique value to a young associate. There was the time he asked me create a PowerPoint deck responding to an insurance examiner’s pointed letter inquiring about a client’s advertising practices. While the request itself wasn’t so novel, subsequent events sure were: when the insurance examiner met us to discuss, I loaded the deck and handed Gary the clicker. Without fanfare, Gary handed it right back to me and told the examiner that I’d be walking through the presentation. There was also the time he had me lead a client call involving a new business inquiry. And the time Gary handed me an impressive list of friends and clients and asked me to call and invite everyone to a fundraiser he was hosting for Darrell Steinberg, one of Gary’s law school chums. These are not the only examples.
Gary also took an interest in my personal life. He always invited me to grab time on his calendar and discuss whatever was on my mind. He always asked if I were getting quality work assignments from others. He asked if I were enjoying the experience and if there were anything else I wanted from it. And he always asked about my mom and whether I was saving enough money to send to her.
Above all, Gary encouraged me in ways that no other lawyer has since. He’d laud me with unconditional praise, saying things like, “you’re doing a great job,” and “you’re going to make one hell of a lawyer.” Now, I don’t easily accept praise, and I think Gary often sensed this. In one exchange that I still remember vividly, Gary pressed on with praise until I acknowledged it: “I know you don’t believe me, but you should. You’re going to be one hell of a lawyer someday.” I managed a timid, “thank you,” but of course, Gary was right. I didn’t believe him.
Gary passed in 2011 at a fairly young age. I had already left Sonnenschein and was living in LA. Gary and I hadn’t talked since I’d left Sonnenschein over a year earlier. I was sad to hear the news, and sadder still that I couldn’t pay my respects in person. And I’m embarrassed to admit that I didn’t think much more about it for some time.
Recently, my career has developed in ways I could never have guessed when I was a first year sitting dumbly on Gary’s leather chair. At some point, not sure when, I started feeling confident in my ability to advise and counsel. At some point, not sure when, I started feeling confident in my ability to mentor and train other lawyers. And at some point, not sure when, I started asking myself the question, “would Gary now think of me as a helluva lawyer?”