May It Please the Court!
From Auto Accidents to Agent Orange:
Building a Storefront Law Practice into
America's Largest Suburban Law Firm
Leonard Rivkin
with Jeffrey Silberfeld
Carolina Academic Press
Durham, North Carolina
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Ch. 3 - The Tote Board, Life with Johnny, and Other Early Times
Stu and I did quite well together after Victor died, getting much of our new business from the
same old sources: local attorneys, the well-connected Leff family, relatives, friends, and neighbors.
But we also began to acquire a lot of business from an entirely new source: satisfied clients. In our
field, personal injury, satisfied clients can generate new business for an attorney at an astounding rate.
At the time, we had a base of existing and past clients of well over 500 people. If just 25 of them,
five percent, each referred two people to our firm, we would have 50 new clients. Those numbers
are actually quite conservative. We satisfied far more than five percent, and a satisfied client was
likely to recommend us to two, three, or more people.
Again, just to provide some numbers to illustrate our growth, from 1954 to 1955 we doubled
the rate of new plaintiffs cases coming into the office. That rate stayed the same in 1956. In 1957,
the year after Victor died, it increased by twenty percent. In 1958, once again it doubled.
And remember, I'm only talking about the rate of new accident cases. That was our specialty,
but we also handled a wide variety of other matters: commercial litigation, real estate transactions,
wills and trusts, even some criminal cases. Basically, we accepted whatever came our way.
By early 1959, so much had come our way that Stu and I were swamped. To help ease the
burden, we hired first one lawyer and then another. Suddenly, with four lawyers and one full time
secretary, we had outgrown the three small rooms which was serving as our office at 11 West Sunrise
Highway. So we rented some additional space on the same floor, just down the hail. Then, in mid-
1959, we moved into larger quarters directly across the street at 16 West Sunrise Highway. We
occupied the entire second floor over yet another automotive supply store. I recall that, in our new
space, we had six private offices, a reception room, and a small combination conference room/library.
We stayed at 16 West Sunrise for nearly seven years. During that time, I had as many as four
lawyers working for me, six secretaries, and even an occasional law clerk. Stu Sherman tried some
cases but had become my primary "inside man," drafting pleadings, discovery demands, affidavits, and
briefs. Herb Burdow, a law school friend of mine, handled whatever real estate and commercial
matters came our way. Stu Davis, a young Brooklyn Law School graduate, helped Stu Sherman with
the inside work and argued some motions. Frank Bunting did legal research and helped Stu Sherman
write briefs. I handled the bulk of the actual in-court trial work.
Incidentally, Frank Bunting, who was with me for only a few years, moved to Vermont, his
wife's home state, where he later became a prominent state senator. And one of the clerks who
worked for me for a short time at 16 West Sunrise was Norman Levy, who later became a
distinguished state senator in New York.
* * *
Managing My Growing Firm
During this period of early growth, I spent most of my time in court and hardly any time in
the office supervising my staff of young attorneys. This situation did not bother me in the least until
late one afternoon, when a client phoned regarding a problem that had arisen in his case. It was
something which never should have happened but was easily corrected. Afterwards, I wondered
whether there were other problems in other cases which I did not know about.
I decided to investigate. Accordingly, I began to take files home at night and on the weekend.
Alter reviewing those files, I determined that more supervision and involvement by me was, in fact,
necessary.
In some instances, my office was not moving the cases quickly enough. It may be okay to
foot-drag if you're representing the defendant, to put off the date of any adverse judgment for as long
as possible. But since we were representing mostly plaintiffs in those days, my goal was to get the
case to trial at the earliest possible date, for two reasons. First, I wanted my clients to get their
money sooner rather than later. And second, I was handling most of my plaintiffs work on a
contingent fee basis -- my fee was a percentage of the amount of the judgment or settlement in favor
of my client; if we lost the case I got nothing. Under those circumstances, the sooner my client got
his money, the sooner I got mine.
In other cases, I was concerned about the quality of the work being done. Maybe the
complaint alleged two causes of action when it should have alleged three. Maybe the discovery
requests were not sufficiently thorough. Maybe the examination-before-trial should have developed
better testimony. Maybe somebody made an unwise strategic decision.
To alleviate my concerns, I implemented two office procedures. First, I installed a "tote
board" on one of the walls in the room which doubled as our conference room and library.
Remember, I'm talking about a small suburban law firm, not a huge downtown legal factory. My
conference room/library was less than 20 feet by 20 feet in total area. There was a small table in the
center with four chairs used for closings or by whomever needed to do some legal research. Along
two walls were bookshelves which contained only the most basic research tools: volumes containing
the New York Statutes, reported decisions, digests, and some forms. We hung the tote board
between two windows on the outside wall.
The board was four feet wide by five feet high. It was constructed of white printing board
with a thin glass cover. The board was lined both horizontally and vertically, into columns, like a
giant page from an accountant's entry book. Each of the columns contained a heading: Name of
Case, Summons and Complaint, Answer, Demand for Bill of Particulars, Bill of Particulars,
Depositions, Jury Demand, Note of Issue, etc. The name of each case was entered under the "Name
of Case" column. Then, under each of the other columns, the date that the particular item was served
or received was entered.
Simply by glancing at the tote board, I could immediately tell whether a particular case was
proceeding at an acceptable pace.
When we first installed the tote board, there were maybe 150 cases entered on it. But the
board had room for upwards of 500 cases, and in what seemed like a very short period of time it was
completely full.
There was always a lot of activity going on around the tote board, with attorneys or
secretaries adding new case names and pleading dates. I even had a platform installed on which
someone could stand in order to reach the top of the tote board, to make it easier to enter the
necessary information. Surveying the scene one afternoon, my friend Ed Hart, recalling an incident
during his youth when he inadvertently stumbled into the back room of a candy store, commented,
"Len, this reminds me of a bookmaker's place."
to chapter 4....
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