We committed so much time and effort in law school learning to research, analyze, and advocate. We made course outlines, studied the Blue Book citation formats, searched the library for the Shepard’s pocket parts to make sure we cited cases that were not overruled, and lugged the heavy case reporters and digests from shelves to tables piled high with volumes that nearly blocked out the fluorescent glow of our evenings.
And all of that work was not completely in vain. It is true that research, analytical, and advocacy skills occasionally came in handy with judges, adversaries, and clients. But what really surprised me in over thirty years of practicing law was how much all of that study and skill-building was just the beginning of the monumental and exciting process of learning how the world worked (or didn’t), or at least how that part of the world that touched my practice worked (or didn’t).
Looking back, I realize that I was not all that well-informed about how things worked when I first went to law school. I grew up in a small, working-class town in suburban Philadelphia and I had little exposure to the world of business or industry. In fact, when I would visit Philadelphia to go to the museums or the historic sites, I recall looking at all of the big buildings wondering what could possibly be keeping all those people in offices busy. I imagined a lot of paper shuffling. (Ok, so I did know a little about business.)
So once I embarked on the practice of law I was a relative innocent who did not comprehend that the learning process was just beginning. Once it began, it was a non-stop, invigorating process that took me into the worlds of science, medicine, history, architecture, and finance.
Looking back, I realize that I was not all that well-informed about how things worked when I first went to law school.
For example, one matter led me to learn the science relating to a claim that a traumatic injury caused breast cancer. Another led me to study how particular elastomers were used in the construction of a throttle control valve of a vessel. As an attorney for the City of Philadelphia I learned about waste disposal strategies (much of that involved learning about things that did not work), air pollution controls, and significant events of history and art movements as reflected in the buildings that the City sought to preserve.
My continuing education had its lighter moments to be sure. During litigation in a case concerning an historic Art Deco theatre in Philadelphia, a hearing took place in the magnificent Robert N.C. Nix Federal Building, which itself was of a late Art Deco style. My opponent, questioning the rationale of the City’s attempt to preserve the building scoffed, “What’s Art Deco anyway?” The judge, looking around and admiring the courtroom responded, “You’re kidding, right?”
But my greatest educational challenge arrived in the middle of my career when I was asked to manage a team of lawyers and support staff. For a typical lawyer with introvert tendencies, this required me to learn to listen and be patient.
These and the many, many other things I have learned (and forgotten) over the years made my practice more rewarding and interesting and helped me understand much more about the struggles, challenges, and successes of others. Although I did not appreciate it when I entered law school, this life-long commitment to understanding how things work is unique to the legal profession and explains why lawyers are often selected for leadership roles in business, government, and nonprofit organizations.
Mark H. MacQueen (LAW ’82; SCAT ’76) recently retired after over 30 years practicing law at, among others, Morgan, Lewis, the City of Philadelphia Law Department, and CIGNA.