I’m officially “over” law reviews that are entirely student-run.

Let me start by saying that I have a cold and am thus crankier than usual.  And let me add that I am not “over” having students work as editors and as staffers on their law reviews.  Law review work trains students to read critically, to consider structure and tone, to look for valid supporting arguments, and to proofread obsessively–all good skills for great lawyers-to-be.  And peer-reviewed journals have dangers of their own.  (I was going to point my readers* to an online version of an exquisite article by one of my favorite authors–John D. Ayer, Aliens are Coming! Drain the Pool!, 88 Mich. L. Rev. 1584, 1587 n. 13 (1990)–but the Michigan Law Review hasn’t yet put that volume online.  Suffice it to say that Jack’s article does a great job of pointing out the pros and cons of peer-reviewed versus student-reviewed journals, and fn. 13 is a hoot.)

But I am on page 4 of a 33-page edit of one of my pieces by the editors of Well-Known Law Review.  (I don’t want to embarrass the editors here, even though I am irked beyond measure by their edits.)  Not only am I tempted to replicate footnotes 1 and 4 in The Common Law Origins of the Infield Fly Rule as a response to the editors’ numerous requests to add more footnotes, but I am also reminded that even the brightest and most mature of law students is not a subject-matter expert in any of the articles that his or her law review is publishing.  What would be the harm, except for the time commitment on the part of a professor, in having a professor review any proposed article (including my own articles, of course) to make sure that the proposed article isn’t bunk and review any proposed student edits before the edits get sent to the authors of accepted pieces?

I don’t want so much deference to my writing style that the editors miss any mistakes or errors of logic.  But there’s a reason that I’ve started putting clauses in my publication agreements that prohibit law review editors from changing my writing style.  Today’s experience with the proposed edits by Well Known Law Review has caused me to conclude that I need to be even more specific about what “changing my writing style” means.**

My bet is that a colleague professor could persuade student editors to be more judicious in their editorial suggestions.  All I can say is that I am now wholeheartedly sorry for any editorial comments that I made to authors while I was a law student, and that karma is a powerful thing.

And now, back to my review of those darn edits.

 

* Both of them.

** I would make an exception if the student editing my article were, for example, a former professor of English.  I don’t get the feeling that that’s the background of the person who sent me Well Known Law Review’s edits, though.

For those law students out there who are turning in drafts of papers–a few thoughts on professionalism.

Here are some things that law professors should tell you so that, when you’re out in the real world, senior lawyers don’t have to worry about your professionalism:

  1. Lawyers care about the written word.  So do law professors.  When you turn in a poorly proofread draft, we’ll form a not-very-flattering impression of your talent.  (We may like you, but we’ll still judge you.)  We will worry that you don’t know how to write well or, worse yet, that you do know how to write well but have decided that your time is more valuable than ours.  Making us parse your sentence fragments, your misspelled words, and a disorganized structure means that you didn’t take the time to check your work before handing it over to us. If you turned in this type of work to a lawyer at a firm, you would probably not get any more assignments, and your job would be in jeopardy.
  2. Deadlines matter.  Clients don’t care that you worked hard on some other assignment and that you’re exhausted.  They don’t care that you’ve got the flu.  Law is a service industry, and the clients who are ill-served by lawyers who miss deadlines (or who wait until the last minute to finish their work) will find other lawyers to do their work in the future.
  3. Yes, sometimes emergencies happen.  If you want us to form a better impression of your work ethic, ask for an extension before the date that something is due.  It’s best not to need an extension (see #2 above), but occasionally life interferes in some pretty awful ways.  If it looks as though you’re going to miss a deadline, the time to ask for help is well in advance.  (That’s why you don’t want to wait until the last minute to start a project–or to finish it.)  You never, ever want to be in the position of telling a senior lawyer who is counting on your work that it’s not going to get to her in time.

We want you to succeed.  The more professionally you behave in law school, the better your habits will be when you’re out in the “real world.”

Customer service heaven and hell–a tale of two hotel chains (Marriott and Hilton)

Hotel Marriott Rivercenter, San Antonio Hilton Bonnet Creek, Orlando
Reachable on Twitter? @Marriott (though there was never a response to my direct message) @HiltonHotels
Responsive on Twitter? DM sent on 10/29.  First contact (a request for more info): 11/1.  My response: also on 11/1, shortly after getting the request for more info.  Still nada, as of the morning of 11/2. None needed.
Greeted at front desk? Yes, and the front desk staff was friendly. Yes, and by status, and the front desk staff member who checked me in remembered my name when I passed by later.  (Thanks, Ashley!)
Helpful bell desk? Yes. Yes, and each member of the bell staff went above and beyond, especially Ezra, who made sure in advance that I would be able to make a fast exit when I needed to make my plane.
App with room key and chat option? Yes. Yes.
Functional room? Yes, but with the Tub from Hell (see below). Yes, and with a glorious view.
Problems with the room? There was a hangtag that said that, if I wanted a rubber bath mat, I could request one.  After almost losing my footing in the Tub from Hell, I requested one early in the morning via the app.  I was told that housekeeping would leave the mat outside my door.  Nope.  Later that day, I was told that the mat was left in my room.  Nope.  When I went back to the chat option to explain that I had not received the mat, I got…crickets.  Nada.  Nothing on the chat.  Nothing on my Twitter DM. n/a
Responsiveness to chat option in the app? Not if you count follow-through or actual help. n/a
Did the hotel go the extra mile? Absolutely not.  I received half-hearted apologies for the mistakes but nothing beyond the bland, corporate “sorry.” Yes!  After I mentioned to the manager of the bell desk how helpful Ezra was, Ezra (and his manager Joseph) arranged to have chocolate-covered strawberries sent to my room—in essence, thanking me for thanking him.  Outstanding service.
Would I stay at this hotel chain again? Not bloody likely, unless I have no choice in the matter. In a heartbeat.

UPDATE on 11/7/18:  Marriott gave me 10,000 Marriott points for my trouble.

R.I.P., Judge Hedges

My friend Tommy Fibich just passed along the news that the wonderful Adele Hedges has passed away.  She was one of a kind:  whip-smart, a fair and even-handed judge, a talented writer (and a talented jewelry-maker), and a Renaissance woman.  She and her husband were so kind to Jeff and me when we arrived in Houston.  She left us far too young.  May she rest in peace.

The Post reminded me of a remarkable gift that my parents gave me.

I just got back from watching The Post, and there were two speeches that really struck a chord.  The first was Sarah Paulson’s speech about what made Kay Graham’s decision to publish the Pentagon Papers so brave; the second was Meryl Streep’s speech about finding herself suddenly in charge of the paper.  Both of them reflect the times:  back then, women weren’t traditionally the key decision-makers in big organizations.  As I left the theatre, it hit me:  my parents raised me to assume that I could do things:  leave home, have a career, dream big.  Most of my career has been based on the “what the heck–I’ll try it” theory of career planning.  I tend to take on the opportunities that are presented to me.  (It helps a lot to have a husband who is there to brainstorm with me and who supports the “what the heck–let’s try it” theory.)

For those of you who weren’t alive during the actual event, The Post’s timeline is set in the early 1970s.  What that means is that, when I was barely in double-digits of age, my parents were already instilling in me an unquestionable sense that I had no barriers other than my own qualms.  (OK, they weren’t right about my having any medical or musical aptitude, but other than that, they were spot on.)  What a remarkable gift–one that has paid dividends many times over.  I can thank my mom by treasuring her memory, and I will thank my dad tomorrow during our conversation.

We can give that gift to others.  By expecting people to be able to take on challenges, we’re giving them a head start for success.  If we can also give them the tools to address those challenges, then we can make sure that each generation has more opportunities than the one before it had.

There are likely several more stories to come.

Courtney Milan’s post about Alex Kozinski is a harrowing read, but an important one.  In a Washington Post story about the allegations against him, Matt Zapotosky wrote, “After the story posted online, the judge told the Los Angeles Times, ‘I don’t remember ever showing pornographic material to my clerks’ and, ‘If this is all they are able to dredge up after 35 years, I am not too worried.’”  Well, “this” is not all they are able to dredge up.  I don’t know how many other stories there are out there, but here’s mine.

I clerked for the Hon. Joseph T. Sneed in 1985-86.  It was one of the best jobs that I have ever had.  Judge Sneed taught me about tight editing, critical thinking, and fair decision-making.  He was a wonderful mentor to me and to countless other former law clerks.

Judge Kozinski sat up north from time to time, and at one point during my clerkship, he asked me to go for drinks with him and his clerks after work.  I’m sociable (though not much of a drinker), so I agreed.  When I showed up, none of his clerks were there.  Just him.

Two things stand out in my memory.  One was that he asked me, “What do single girls in San Francisco do for sex?”  Another was, after I said I needed to head home because I had to absorb the news that my mother had just been diagnosed with breast cancer, he offered to “comfort” me.  There was no reporting relationship between him and me, and I certainly never believed that my job with Judge Sneed was ever in jeopardy because of my interactions with Judge Kozinski.  I just thought that the judge exhibited extremely poor taste.

But I have told countless female law students that I would never write them a letter of recommendation for a clerkship with him, and I have told them why.  I didn’t want them ever to be at risk of being sexually harassed by him.  I have told some of my female colleagues not to be alone with him, and for the same reason.

I doubt that he remembers our interaction that night.  I do, and I view his statement to the Los Angeles Times as a challenge; hence, this post to add to the other voices.