LAW SCHOOL DECEPTION — PART III

Money talks, especially to prospective law students concerned about educational debt. Tuition reduction programs promise some relief. Surely, scholarships conditioned on minimum GPAs are better.

Recently, the NY Times profiled a Golden Gate University School of Law student needing a 3.0 to keep her scholarship. By the end of her first year, she’d “curved out” at 2.967. Her Teamsters dad drove a tractor before he was laid off, but she and her parents came up with $60,000 in tuition to complete her degree.

Maybe that’s reasonable. A “B” average doesn’t seem difficult. Is this just whining from what some article comments called “the gimme generation”?

Only if the victims knew the truth. She has no paying job, legal or otherwise. That’s her true victimization, along with many others.

— Statistically possible v. doesn’t happen v. fully disclosed

Golden Gate imposes mandatory first-year curves limiting the number of As and Bs. In second and third year courses, the curves loosen or disappear. The profiled student graduated with a 3.14 GPA — a nice recovery, but too late for the lost scholarship.

According to the article, more than half of the current GGU first-year class has merit scholarships and Dean Drucilla Stender Ramey said it’s statistically possible for 70 percent of one Ls to maintain a 3.0 GPA — also the threshold for the Dean’s List. Even if she meant “theoretically” rather than “statistically” possible, I’m skeptical. The school’s handbook reports the mandatory range for those receiving a “B- and above” in first-year required courses: 45 percent (minimum) to 70 percent (maximum). And a B- is 2.67.

“[I]n recent years,” the article continued, “only the top third of students at Golden Gate wound up with a 3.0 or better, according to the dean…. She also maintains that Golden Gate 1Ls’s are well-informed about the odds they face in keeping scholarships.”

This sounds like the lawyer who tells the jury: 1) my client was out of town at the time of the murder; 2) if he was in town, he didn’t do it; and 3) whatever he did was in self-defense.

— Playing with fire

Why offer merit scholarships? U.S. News‘s rankings, says University of St. Thomas School of Law Professor Jerry Organ:

“Law schools are buying…higher GPAs and LSATs.”

Albany Law School Dean Thomas F. Guernsey notes that such catering to the rankings has “strange and unintended consequences,” such as reducing need-based financial aid by redirecting it to those who otherwise “will go somewhere else.”

U.S. News doesn’t collect merit scholarship retention data because, according to rankings guru Robert Morse, “[W]e haven’t thought about it…[T]hese students are going to law school and they need to learn to read the fine print.”

That’s among the least of many profound flaws in the U.S. News methodology. Law school deans know them all, yet pandering to the rankings persists while students and the profession pay the price.

Somewhere in the cumulative behavior of certain schools lies an interesting class action. Particularly vulnerable are recruiters operating at the outer limits of candor to attract students who accumulate staggering loans and no jobs.

Imagine forcing some deans to answer these questions — under oath:

— Where did you go to law school? (That’s foundational — to show they’re smart; for example, GGU’s Dean Ramey graduated from Yale.)

— How many graduates did you put on your school’s temporary payroll solely to boost your U.S. News “nine months after graduation” employment rate? (I don’t know about GGU, but others have.)

— How many have full-time paying jobs requiring a JD? (GGU’s nine-month employment rate is 87.2% of 143 “reporting” 2009 graduates, but the “number with salary” is only 41 (or 29%). Two-thirds of “reporting graduates” had jobs requiring bar passage; only half held permanent positions. And who’s not “reporting”?)

— How many merit recipients lose scholarships? What did you tell those hot prospects when you enticed them with first-year money? Ultimately, how much did they pay for their degrees?

Ironically, even bold typeface disclosure might not change some prospective students’ minds because facts yield to confirmation bias. Convinced that they’ll overcome daunting odds to become winners, they can’t all be right.

Still, the potential class of law student plaintiffs grows by the thousands every year. If they ever file their lawsuit, the defendant(s) better get good lawyers.

A NEW LAW SCHOOL MISSION

What ails the profession and is there a cure?

If you haven’t already seen it, you might want to take a look at Part I of my article, “Great Expectations Meet Painful Realities,” in the Spring 2011 issue of Circuit Rider. My latest contribution to the debate on the profession’s growing crisis begins on page 24 of the Seventh Circuit Bar Association’s semi-annual publication.

Part II begins at page 26 of the December 2011 issue.

IMPROVING PROSPECTS — BUT FOR WHOM?

Life is just a matter of perspective. For example, here’s some apparently good news:

— The legal sector added 1,500 jobs in April.

— Ashby Jones at the Wall Street Journal Law Blog cited a recent article in The Guardian for the proposition that the U.K. might actually have a shortage of lawyers next year. Could the U.S. be far behind?

— NALP’s Executive Director James Leipold noted that, along with an overall attorney employment rate of 88.3% for the class of 2009, “the most recent recruitment cycle showed signs of a small bounce in the recruiting activity of law firms, a sign that better economic times likely lie ahead.”

Now consider each headline a bit differently:

— “Legal sector” isn’t limited to attorneys; more than 44,000 new law school graduates hit the market every year.

The Guardian article relies solely on a report from the College of Law that has an interest in encouraging applications to its program for prospective solicitors. More than one comment to the initial report expressed angry skepticism about the College’s short-term motives. Where have I heard that before?

Meanwhile, the Bureau of Labor Statistics projects that, for the entire ten-year period from 2008 to 2018, net U.S. attorney employment will increase by only 100,000. Even if all aging attorneys retired as they turned 65, there aren’t enough of them to make room for all the newbies. In 1970, for example, law schools awarded only about one-third of the number of JDs conferred in 2010.

— To his credit, NALP’s Leipold went behind the 88% employment rate for the class of 2009. The resulting caveats are significant.

First, the percentage employed are graduates “for whom employment status was known.” Who’s excluded? Who knows?

Second, nearly 25 percent of all reported jobs were temporary; more than 10 percent were part-time.

Third, only 70 percent “held jobs for which a J.D. was required.” Unfortunately, law schools don’t offer tuition refunds (or relief from student loans) for education that was unnecessary for their graduates’ actual employment opportunities. That doesn’t surprise me. (See “Law School Deception.”)

Finally, more than 20 percent of employed graduates from the class of 2009 “were still looking for work.” Beneath the veneer of superficially good news — having a job — career dissatisfaction continues to eat away at too many of the profession’s best and brightest in yet another generation.

That doesn’t mean people shouldn’t go to law school. It means that they should think carefully about it first, starting with this question: why do I want to be a lawyer and will the reality of the job match my expectations?

Turning the employment subject toward big law leads to one more lesson on perspective.

A day after the Ashby Jones and James Leipold articles, the WSJ‘s Nathan Koppel summarized big law’s continuing job-shedding: the NLJ 250 lost another 3,000 in 2010, bringing their total decrease since 2008 to 9,500. They may be hiring some new associates, but they’re getting rid of many more.

NALP expects to release its 2010 employment data in May. But every big law leader knows that May’s true importance lies in a much more significant event: annual publication of the Am Law 100. For some partners, pre-release anxiety is palpable, if not paralyzing.

This year, average equity partner profits for the Am Law 100 went up by over 8% — to almost $1.4 million. For context, that surpasses 2007, which was the peak of an uninterrupted five-year PPP run-up. Pretty stunning for an economy that remains difficult for so many. Gross revenues increased as overall headcount dropped by almost 3%. More revenues from fewer attorneys meant more billables — mislabeled as higher “productivity” in big law terms — for the chosen. (See “The Misery Index.”) As jobs remained scarce and associate hours climbed, equity partner earnings continued their ascent.

How much is enough? For some people, the answer will always be more; short-term metrics that maximize current PPP guide their way. Life is easy when deceptively objective numbers make solutions simple, reflection unnecessary, and the long-term someone else’s problem. It’s just a matter of perspective.

KING & SPALDING’S REVERSAL OF FORTUNE

It was an impossible task. Take a multimillion-dollar a year big law partner with unambiguously conservative Republican credentials and make him look like a combination of Atticus Finch and Clarence Darrow as he pursues the far right’s ideological agenda. Somehow, while working at cross-purposes, Paul Clement and King & Spalding pulled it off. What should have been a non-event became a major story because the firm said yes to Clement’s representation of House Republicans in Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA) litigation – and then it said no.

But the issues are more complicated than the headlines and current talking points.

With words befitting the talented advocate that he is, Clement relinquished his lucrative equity partnership saying, “Defending unpopular clients is what lawyers do.”

Dutifully, Hays fell on his sword in expressing the firm’s official non-explanation for its about-face: “inadequate vetting.”

Attorneys across the political spectrum condemned Clement’s former firm while praising him for adherence to the maxim that everyone deserves representation. Even President Clinton’s solicitor general, Seth Waxman, commended his allegiance to the “highest professional and ethical traditions in continuing to represent a client to whom he had committed in this very charged matter.”

Let’s suspend the hyperbole for a moment of analysis and reflection.

— “They’re Not Entitled to Me”

The target audiences for Clement’s lofty rhetoric were the media and the public, not King & Spalding’s Chairman Robert D. Hays, Jr. — the resignation letter’s addressee. Clearly, Clement scored a public relations bullseye.

He began with the suggestion that his personal “thoughts about the merits of DOMA are as irrelevant as my views about the dozens of federal statutes that I defended as Solicitor General.” Not quite. The solicitor general must always take the same side – the government’s; attorneys in private practice can say no. As Harvard Law Professor Alan Dershowitz told my classmates and me 35 years ago: “In our system, everyone is entitled to representation. But that doesn’t mean that everyone is entitled to me.”

When attorneys wrap themselves in their roles as advocates for unpopular people and positions, it’s worth pausing to consider whether such nobility is easier because it coincides with their ideological leanings. Clement urged that “being on the right or wrong side of history is a question for the clients.” But whether to represent a client is always a question for the attorney. Would Clement have taken the other side in DOMA cases? Based on his record, that seems unlikely.

His new home is Bancroft PLLC, now an eight-lawyer firm that looks like a Republican government-in-waiting. Clement’s conservative dots connect easily to his newest employer: beginning with clerk to Justice Scalia to associate in Kenneth W. Starr’s appellate group at Kirkland & Ellis to solicitor general for President George W. Bush. Pursuing a far right rallying cry doesn’t look like much of an ideological stretch. There’s nothing wrong with that; it’s just true.

— What Went Awry?

Wholly apart from any proximity between his client’s position on DOMA and Clement’s personal politics, King & Spalding missteps created the story. If the firm had simply failed to approve Clement’s initial request to take the cases – as big firms often do – no one would have noticed or cared. That didn’t happen, but what did happen at King & Spalding could have arisen elsewhere throughout big law. Here’s how.

First, money matters. DOMA was never a pro bono affair for King & Spalding. In the prevailing big law model, a revenue dollar is a revenue dollar and new business is new business. Cases and deals generating media attention are especially attractive, in part because they help in The American Lawyer’s annual “Best Departments” competition.

The House of Representatives, a high-profile client, agreed to pay a blended rate of $520/hour with taxpayer dollars. Clement charges more than that for his time, but blended means that every lawyer on the case — all the way down to first-year associate — bills out at that $520 hourly rate. Although appellate matters are top-heavy, partners typically control staffing to make money on blended rate deals. (A $500,000 cap was subject to negotiated increases.) The case also offered another win-win possibility: attracting other conservative clients.

Second, someone at King & Spalding underestimated the backlash. I don’t know what Hays meant by “inadequate vetting,” but partners typically brag to firm colleagues about noteworthy new business as they’re trying to land it. Somewhere amidst the backslapping, they can forget other considerations that matter. Here, the intense adverse reaction came swiftly, certainly and, apparently, surprisingly. The surprise would have been a byproduct of myopic revenue generation; magical thinking at the outset can assume away all potentially bad consequences.

Third, once a new client matter is approved, firms typically let the partner in charge finalize the details. I don’t know whether King & Spalding did that here, but I wonder if anyone at the firm other than Clement read the retention agreement prior to its execution. If so, the implications of silencing an entire national law firm (including staff) must have arisen. A gag provision barred everyone in the firm from engaging “in lobbying or advocacy for or against any legislation (i) that is pending before the [House] Committee…[through January 3, 2013], or (ii) that would alter or amend in any way the Defense of Marriage Act and is pending before either the U.S. House of Representatives or the U.S. Senate or any committee of either body….”

Whose idea was that? Private employers can impose lots of restrictions on employees, but some observers have suggested that this sweeping ban violates state law where King & Spalding has offices, including California and New York. In any event, personnel throughout the firm might have been astonished to discover that, as of April 14, their jobs now required that they forego free speech on personal matters near and dear to many of them. The provision certainly didn’t astonish Clement, who signed the agreement on his firm’s behalf.

— The Road Not Taken

Clement concluded with Judge Griffin Bell’s statement that an attorney who undertakes a representation should finish it. But that proposition is far from immutable. Attorneys decide whether to leave clients all the time, but without the underlying morality play that developed here. Examples: A lawyer laterals into a new firm after saying good-bye to clients that would pose a conflict if he brought them along; or the new firm sends an existing client packing to accommodate the lateral’s more lucrative business; or a firm simply jettisons an existing client in favor of a more financially promising one. Here, the ink was barely dry on the April 14 agreement before Clement resigned from his firm eleven days later. If he’d chosen to stay, the client would have faced little hardship in transitioning to replacement counsel.

The firm now weathers a storm of critics who argue that it has forsaken the profession’s finest traditions by abandoning a client with an unpopular position. Some will distort the issues for political gain, as Virginia’s attorney general already has.

Meanwhile, Clement retains a moral high ground that some people have been too quick to give him. Did he consider the gag provision’s breadth, scope, or potential enforcement problems? Would he have counseled a client — any client — to agree to it? Imagine the outcry if tobacco companies tried to prevent all employees of their outside law firms from using weekends and evenings to advocate anti-smoking legislation.

As an outstanding appellate advocate who has been mentioned as a possible U.S. Supreme Court candidate in a Republican administration, Clement knows that final decisions should be based on a complete record that includes all of the evidence. The current judgments identifying the heroes and villains in this saga are premature.

DEBT LOADING

The University of Virginia Law School has offered its unemployed 3Ls stipends to defray the cost of bar application fees ($500) and bar exam prep courses ($1500). This follows a protest during admitted students weekend when some UVA students wore (and sold) T-shirts saying, “$40,000 a year and no jobs.” Of course, such public turmoil is the tip of a mammoth iceberg that isn’t limited to UVA.

The absence of jobs — even for graduates of top schools — is especially dire because repayment of educational loans typically begins when higher education ends. The collateral damage of such debt can persist for generations. As one analyst recently told the NY Times, “A lot of people will still be paying off their student loans when it’s time for their kids to go to college.” According to the same Times article, last year’s college graduates left school with $24,000 in debt.

For those moving on to law school, $24,000 soon looks like the good old days. The 2009 Law School Survey of Student Engagement reported this stunner:

“The percentage of full-time U.S. students expecting to graduate owing more than $120,000 is up notably in 2009…29% of students expect to graduate with this level of debt.” Almost half of all law students expect to cross the $100,000 debt threshold before getting their degrees.

Here’s the disconnect: according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, the median salary for all lawyers nine months after graduation is $68,500. Try servicing $120,000+ debt on that budget. Average compensation for all attorneys in the United States is $129,000 a year.

Why the gap between investment and reward? A better question is, why not? The BLS numbers don’t appear in law school recruiting brochures that are more likely to tout big law’s $160,000 starting salaries. Nor do they disclose the downside that comes with those high-paying jobs.

Likewise, most schools don’t report meaningful employment data, either. When they collectively tell U.S. News that the most recent average employment rate nine months after graduation is 93%, something is amiss — like the fact that employed can mean being a greeter at Wal-Mart or flipping burgers at McDonald’s. In an insightful new article, Professor Paul Campos calculates the true rate — graduates with full-time legal jobs nine months out — to be well under 50%.

Revealing the truth would almost certainly drive down applications, compromise U.S. News rankings, and threaten law schools’ bottom lines. That might force many deans to reconsider what they’re doing to their own students. Too many administrators hide behind rhetoric — “free choice,” “markets work,” and “students should take personal responsibility” — as excuses to disregard their own roles as the profession’s most important fiduciaries. When ignorance and misinformation reign, choices are distorted and markets don’t work. I often wonder if law school deans who have kids the same age as those they’re duping behave differently from the rest. Or do they fault students’  “failure to take responsibility,” too?

My article, “Great Expectations Meet Painful Realities,” appearing in the current issue of the Seventh Circuit Bar Association’s semi-annual publication, Circuit Rider has more on this (starting at page 24).

Fraud can be overt — by commission — or it can occur by omission when there’s a duty to speak. Revealing good facts can create an obligation to disclose the bad ones. Greater candor won’t stop the flow of talented applicants to law schools. Nor should it. The legal profession is still a noble calling. But it has also become a way for some educational institutions improperly to persuade the next generation to mortgage its own future — literally.

Some call it the next big bubble. If it bursts, I’m not sure what that will mean. Because of statutory revisions in 2005, bankruptcy doesn’t discharge student loan debt unless the difficult “undue hardship” test is met. The era of big bailouts has passed, so that’s an unlikely solution as well.

Perhaps we’ll see a new growth industry in the revival of an ancient concept: debtors prisons. Law school deans who lost sight of their true obligations to their students and their profession should run them — without pay.

BIG LAW INCIVILITY

Attorney incivility is nothing new. Noting that the problem dated to the nineteenth century, Chief Justice Warren Burger addressed it in 1971 remarks to the American Law Institute. He criticized the lawyer who equated zealous advocacy with “how loud he can shout or how close he can come to insulting all those he encounters.” (“The Necessity for Civility,” 52 FRD 211, 213 (1971))

Here’s a more recent example from a deposition, cited in Judge Marvin E. Aspen’s oft-quoted 1998 article on the erosion of civility:

Mr. V: Please don’t throw it at me.

Mr. A: Take it.

Mr. V: Don’t throw it at me.

Mr. A: Don’t be a child, [Mr. V]. You look like a slob the way you’re dressed, but you don’t have to act like a slob….

Mr. V: Stop yelling at me. Let’s get on with it.

Mr. A: You deny I have given you a copy of every document?

Mr. V: You just refused to give it to me.

Mr. A: Do you deny it?

Mr. V: Eventually you threw it at me.

Mr. A: Oh, [Mr. V], you’re about as childish as you can get. You look like a slob, you act like a slob.

Mr. V: Keep it up.

Mr. A: Your mind belongs in the gutter.

Evidence of incivility among adversaries is largely anecdotal; the best examples don’t lend themselves to statistical analysis. A recent Above the Law post led me to ponder this question: does the prevailing big law business model contribute to incivility?

Mark Herrmann, a former big law partner, writes “Inside Straight” from his relatively new vantage point as in-house counsel. “How to Be a Crappy Partner” isn’t about civility, but some of his readers’ comments led me to this observation: when lawyers inside a law firm treat each other poorly, no one should expect their behavior to improve for outside opponents.

Unpleasant personalities are everywhere. Big firm lawyers as a group may be no worse than those in other practice settings; jerks exist across the spectrum. Likewise, drawing conclusions from any potpourri of Above the Law comments is dangerous. Even so, the most coherent “Crappy Partner” reactions fall into the following categories, each of which has a counterpart in external incivility:

— Disrespect for People’s Time

“Give me 10 minutes as an associate in a world without Blackberrys–please.” Other examples: delaying assignments until they conflict with an associate’s long-planned (and widely known) vacation; imposing tight deadlines only to let the completed work sit undisturbed on the assigning partner’s desk for two weeks; Friday night forwarding of a client’s earlier request for answers by the following Monday with a message revealing that the partner sat on the client’s request for five days.

Incivility counterpart: Fighting over inconsequential scheduling matters; taking actions, such as so-called emergency motions, solely to disrupt opponents’ personal lives.

— Flagrant Misbehavior

“Believe it or not, I’m on your side.” Examples: partners who yell, scream, and act in ways that most parents wouldn’t tolerate from a two-year-old; verbal abuse; sexist comments; narcissism.

Incivility counterpart: Ad hominem attacks.

— Lack of Candor About the Big Law Model

“I’m smart; that’s why you hired me. I can do the math.” Examples: pretending that associates don’t notice as fewer than ten percent of earlier new hires advance to equity partner after years of 2,000+ billables; bragging about the firm’s tenth year of increasing partner profits while laying off associates and staff; giving lip-service to mentoring and professional development when short-term profits drive decisions based on metrics that exclude such considerations.

Incivility counterpart: Lawyers believing their own press releases–and acting the role.

Send the purveyors (and victims) of such hubris into the world and what do you expect? More than most occupations, lawyers learn from role models and mentors. The culture that undermines morale at many large firms isn’t self-limiting. The prevailing business model often rewards “crappy partner” behavior and rarely penalizes it. External incivility is one byproduct of that internal ethos.

Large firms aren’t solely to blame for incivility; far from it. But for good and ill, they exert vastly disproportionate influence over the profession. Among other failings, the prevailing big law business model isn’t helping the cause of civility. Tellingly, here’s one commenter’s sad advice on how to avoid becoming a crappy partner:

“Please say please and thank you.”

I wonder what their mothers would say.

A NEW METRIC: THE MISERY INDEX

Let’s call it what it is.

Large law firms and their management consultants have redefined a word — productivity — to contradict its true meaning. Recent reports from Hildebrandt and Citi measure it as everyone does: average billable hours per attorney.

No one questions this perversion because the prevailing business model’s primary goal is maximizing partner profits. Billables times hourly rates produce gross revenues. More is better and the misnomer — productivity — persists.

The Business Dictionary defines productivity as the “relative measure of the efficiency of a person [or] system…in converting inputs into useful outputs.” But the relevant output for an attorney shouldn’t be total hours spent on tasks; it’s useful work product that meets client needs. Total elapsed time without regard to the quality of the result reveals nothing about a worker’s value. More hours often mean the opposite of true productivity.

Common sense says that effort on the fourteenth hour of a day can’t be as valuable as that exerted during hour six. Fatigue compromises effectiveness. That’s why the Department of Transportation imposes rest periods after interstate truckers’ prolonged stints behind the wheel. Logically, absurdly high billables should result in compensation penalties, but prevailing big law economics dictate otherwise.

Here’s a partial cure. Rather than mislabel attorney billables as measures of productivity, an index should permit excessive hours to convey their true meaning: attorney misery. The Misery Index would be a natural corollary to NALP’s survey of minimum billable hour requirements. Attorneys now accept as given the 2,000 hour threshold that most firms maintain, even though current big law leaders faced no mandatory minimum levels when they were associates. As Yale Law School describes in a useful memo, 2,000 is a lot. But even if the 2,000-hour bell can’t be unrung, the Misery Index could reveal a firm’s culture.

To construct this metric for a given firm, start with attorneys billing fewer than 2,000 hours annually (including pro bono and genuine firm-related activities such as recruiting, training, mentoring, client development, and management); those lawyers wouldn’t count toward their firm’s Misery Index. However, at each 100-hour increment above 2,000, the percentage of attorneys reaching each higher numerical category would be added. To reflect the increasing lifestyle costs of marginal billables, attorneys with the most hours would count at every 100-hour interval preceding their own. Separate indices should exist for associates (AMI) and partners (PMI).

The Misery Index would reveal distinctions that firmwide averages blur. For example, Firm A has an Associate Misery Index of 125, calculated as follows:

50% of associates bill fewer than 2,000 hours = 0 AMI points

50% > 2,000 = 50  AMI points

40% > 2,100 = 40

25% > 2,200 = 25

10% > 2,300 = 10

None > 2,400

AMI: 125

Firm B’s AMI of 315 describes a much different place:

10% of associates bill fewer than 2,000 hours = 0 AMI points

90% > 2,000 = 90 points

75% > 2,100 = 75

60% > 2,200 = 60

45% > 2,300 = 45

30% > 2,400 = 30

15% > 2,500 = 15

None > 2,600

AMI: 315

A Misery Index would aid decision-making, especially for new graduates. Some would prefer firms with a high one; most wouldn’t. A Misery Index above 300 might prompt questions about the physical health of a firm’s attorneys; a Misery Index of zero — no one working more than 2,000 hours — might prompt questions about the health of the firm itself. Big disparities between partners (PMI) and associates (AMI) would be revealing, too.

Data collection is problematic. NALP won’t ask for the information and most firms won’t supply it — unless clients demand it. (In an earlier article, I explained why they should.) Alternatively, individual attorneys could provide the information anonymously, similar to The American Lawyer’s annual mid-level associate surveys.

Complementing the Misery Index would be firm-specific Attrition Rates by class year from starting associate to first year equity partner. NALP’s last report — before the 2008 financial crisis — showed big law’s five-year associate attrition rates skyrocketing to more than eighty percent, but significant differences existed among firms.

The Misery Index and Attrition Rates would be interesting additions to Am Law‘s “A-List” criteria that many big firms heed. Imagine an equity partner meeting that included this agenda item: “Reducing Our Misery Index and Attrition Rates.” It would certainly be a departure from scenes and themes in my best-selling legal thriller, The Partnership.

Big law is filled with free market disciples who urge better information as a panacea, as well as metrics to communicate it. Here’s their chance.

THE GOLDMAN MODEL FOR BIG LAW?

Goldman Sachs has been in the news a lot lately. Taken together, several articles suggest parallels to big law. Anyone wondering where many large law firm leaders want to take their institutions — and how they might get there — should look closely at Goldman. As law firms have embraced metrics that maximize short-term partner profits, they’ve moved steadily in Goldman’s direction. If America follows Australia and the UK in permitting non-attorneys to invest in law firms, a tipping point could arrive.

Others ponder this possibility. Professor Mitt Regan, Co-Director of the Georgetown Center for the Study of the Legal Profession, has been thinking, writing, and speaking thoughtfully about non-lawyer investment in law firms for a long time. Understandably, most academic observers focus on the outside — how smaller firms’ access to capital could affect competition, the interaction with attorneys’ ethical obligations, and the like.

Those are important issues, but I’m more interested on the inside. Presumably, the process would involve current equity partners selling ownership interests to investors. Many of those in big law who already take a short-term economic view of their institutions would leap at the opportunity for a one-time payday that discounted future cash flows to today’s dollar. In fact, a big lump sum will tempt every equity partner who worries about next year’s annual review.

Then what? Perhaps Goldman has devised an adaptable mechanism. When it went public in 1999, Goldman Sachs retained a partnership system within a larger corporate structure. As the Times notes, “Goldman’s partners are its highest paid executives and it biggest stars….”

Consider the similarities to big law:

— Management

Traders displaced traditional investment bankers and chairman Lloyd Blankfein surrounded himself with “like-minded executives — ‘Lloyd loyalists,'” according to the Times. Transactional attorneys have similarly risen to lead many big law firms; dissent is not always a cherished value.

— Resulting culture changes

Seeking to represent all sides of a deal, Goldman became adept at managing conflicts rather than avoiding them, a former insider told the Times. Large law firms have developed standard retention letters that maximize their representational flexibility to take on more lucrative matters that might arise.

— Metrics

Goldman’s leverage ratio is stunning: 475 partners out of more than 35,000 employees. As a group, large firms have pulled up ladders, widened the top-to-bottom range within equity partnerships, and doubled attorney-to-equity partner leverage ratios between 1985 and 2010.

— Partner Wealth

Goldman’s partners are famously rich. Many big firm equity partners now enjoy seven-figure incomes previously reserved for media celebrities, professional athletes, and investment bankers.

All of this raises an important question: How well is the model working — and for whom? Maintaining the stability of such a regime presents challenges. Goldman partners maximize their continuing influence as minority shareholders by acting in unison on shareholder votes. But the cast of characters constantly changes. According to the Times, “Every two years, roughly 70 executives leave the club, by choice or because they are no longer pulling their weight. The average tenure is about seven years…Within five years of the IPO, almost 60 percent of the original partners were gone…”

In the end, the environment is problematic for many, as one former Goldman partner told the Times:

“It’s a very Darwinian, survival-of-the-fittest firm.”

It could also be big law’s future. Then again, some firms may already be there.

Here’s a concluding thought: perhaps Goldman Sachs will become a big law outside investor that buys its way into the legal profession. That shouldn’t bother anyone. After all, Lloyd Blankfein graduated from Harvard Law School.

THE U OF C’s BIG LEAP FORWARD

My thanks to the standing room-only crowd that turned out to hear about my new legal thriller, The Partnership, at the Virginia Festival of the Book in Charlottesville. That delightful town is, of course, the home of a great university that includes a law school worthy of Thomas Jefferson’s pride.

While I was there, it occurred to me that when law schools get it wrong, they deserve the scorn that comes with a public spotlight. When they get it right, they should bask in its warm glow. The University of Chicago Law School recently got it right. Really right.

It’s ironic.  The home of the Chicago School — where free market self-interest reigns and the economic analysis of the law has been an article of faith for a long time — has adopted a loan repayment program that sends students this powerful message:

There’s more to life after law school than pursuing big law’s elusive financial brass rings. If you take the large firm path, do so because it’s what you want, not because you have no other financial options.

This must shock deans who have pandered to the large law firm constituencies that hire some graduates for the best-paying starting associate jobs. Former Northwestern Dean David Van Zandt made himself the most visible and ardent proponent of that approach. The U of C’s new program doesn’t ignore big law as a potential employer of its graduates. In fact, it led all other schools in the NLJ 250‘s most recent list of big firms’ “go-to schools.” But it now tells the country’s top students that even if they don’t want big law, the U of C still still wants them — so much that it will pay their way.

It’s unique. For example, Harvard has a respectable Low-Income Protection Program. In 2008, it went a step farther and announced a plan forgiving third-year tuition in return for five years of post-graduate public service, but overwhelming student demand made it a casualty of the financial crisis. In its place, Harvard now provides limited funds to encourage public interest work on a case-by-case basis. Other schools, including Northwestern, have loan forgiveness programs, too, but none appears to be as good as the University of Chicago’s new one.

A single line from its website description says it all:

“This means that a graduate who engages in qualifying work for 10 years, earns less than the salary cap, and maintains enrollment in the federal Income-Based Repayment Program, will receive a FREE University of Chicago Law School education!”

“Qualifying work” is public interest broadly defined as “the full-time practice of law, or in a position normally requiring a law degree, in a non-profit organization or government office, other than legal academia.” It includes judicial clerkships.

The “salary cap” is $80,000 and doesn’t include spousal income. That combination seems to beat Harvard, Yale, and Stanford. (Caveat: The differences across school programs can be significant and prospective students should consider their own circumstances, run the numbers, and determine which one produces the best individual result.)

The program is a reasoned response to practical realities. First, big law cannot accommodate all top law school graduates, even if deans try to put them there and all want to go.

Second, the burden of law school debt shapes career decisions that lead too many lawyers to dissatisfying careers and unhappy lives, especially in large firms.

Third, the upcoming generation of prospective attorneys wants options other than large firms. To be sure, many lawyers find that such places are a good fit for their personalities and ambitions. But in recent years, such individuals have become a shrinking minority of the people heading in that direction. The profession should encourage attorneys who will become unhappy in such institutions to avoid them in the first place. Imagine a big law world populated exclusively with lawyers who wanted to be there.

Finally, the program is a reminder that the law is a great calling. Law schools aren’t big law assembly lines, grinding out graduates for firms where nobility too often yields to a business school mentality that prizes misguided metrics — billings, billable hours, leverage ratios, and average partner profits — above all else. The best law schools are uniquely positioned to level a playing field that now tilts students toward large firms.

Whatever else they accomplish, the U of C’s actions bring important attention to student alternatives that sometimes get lost in the myopic focus on big law. Now that’s leadership.

HOWREY’S LESSONS: A NATIONAL CONVERSATION

My latest “Commendable Comments” award goes to a non-lawyer, the Washington Post’s Pulitzer prize-winning columnist Steven Pearlstein.

Since I started my blog a year ago, two of my most popular articles have been “Howrey’s Lessons” and “Howrey’s Lessons — Part II.” Versions recently ran on Am Law Daily, where they also attracted widespread attention.

I don’t know if Pearlstein was among the thousands who saw my analysis of Howrey’s end and its relationship to ubiquitous big law trends, but his March 20 column reinforces my themes. If I hadn’t been attending the Virginia Festival of the Book in Charlottesville to discuss The Partnership, I might have missed it. I’m glad I didn’t.

Both of my Howrey articles focused on a central point: What matters most are not the things that make the once venerable institution different from other large firms. Rather, the true significance of its death lies in what makes the firm similar to many, many others. Intelligent lawyers who specialize in distinguishing adverse precedent prefer to think otherwise; they do so at their peril.

Noting as I had that, as recently as 2008, the DC-oriented Legal Times hailed Howrey’s final chairman, Robert Ruyak, as one of 30 “visionaries,” Pearlstein describes how quickly the world turned. In the end, I found Ruyak’s litany of claimed contributors to the firm’s demise — clients demanding contingency fee arrangements; conflict problems that made European growth problematic; and the rise of competitive electronic discovery vendors — unpersuasive; I explained why in “Howrey’s Lessons — Part II.” Pearlstein is more charitable in accepting such excuses at face value. That’s understandable because he’s never worked in a large firm.

But on the big picture, his assessment echoes my earlier observations:

1. Howrey’s global expansion through lateral hiring created a firm of free agents who lacked the deep loyalties that once characterized the firm. That phenomenon wasn’t unique to Howrey.

2. Pearlstein notes that profits per partner has become “not only the key determinant of how much partners take home, but it is the metric by which the very competitive and ambitious people in the legal business keep score.” My regular readers know that the business school mentality of misguided metrics — billings, billable hours, and leverage ratios aimed at increasing partners’ short-term profits — has transformed a once noble profession in unfortunate ways.

3.  Pearlstein observes that when Howrey’s average partner profits took a downward turn, the partnership — which wasn’t really a partnership in the way most people understand that concept — found that its “bonds of loyalty [were] not strong enough to hold Howrey together.” In “Howrey’s Lessons,” I put it this way: “[W]hen cash becomes king, partnership bonds remain only as tight as the glue that next year’s predicted equity partner profits provide….”

Likewise, Pearlstein’s overall conclusion is identical to mine: The most troubling aspect of Howrey’s death is that “the industry seems to have learned nothing from such episodes.”  He closes with an acknowledgement of the widespread problem of partner and associate dissatisfaction that the prevailing big law culture has exacerbated.

On only one point would I offer this limited qualification to Pearlstein’s survey of the legal blogosphere concerning Howrey. He suggests that the media (press and blogs) offer “the same uncritical acceptance of…a world in which firms are held together by nothing more than a collective determination to increase profit per partner.” Respectfully, I offer my ongoing commentary over the past year as a consistent voice in challenging the prevailing big law model.

When an intelligent, sophisticated observer such as Steven Pearlstein takes a seemingly isolated issue involving lawyers — that is, Howrey’s disintegration — and uses his national platform to shine a welcome light on a deeper professional problem, it becomes that much more difficult for big law leaders to ignore. They’ll continue to turn a blind eye to the incubating crisis, but perhaps they’ll rest just a little bit less easily in doing so.

Pearlstein’s prize is a copy of The Partnership, which I will send him this week. I’m confident that, as an interested outsider, he’ll find it fascinating.

HOWREY’S LESSONS — PART II

I wasn’t going to write another article about Howrey. But then I read chairman Robert Ruyak’s explanations for his firm’s collapse, together with columnist Peggy Noonan’s review of former Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld’s new book. The two men have more in common than the first two letters of their last names. Both are at the center of dramatically unfortunate episodes that occurred on their respective watches. Both look for villains and miss the bigger picture.

Former Reagan speechwriter and conservative columnist Noonan opens her review with this: “I found myself flinging his book against the wall in hopes I would break its stupid little spine…You’d expect [Rumsfeld] to be reflective, to be self-questioning, and questioning of others, and to grapple with the ruin…He heard all the conversations. He was in on the decisions. You’d expect him to explain the overall, overarching strategic thinking that guided them. Since those decisions are in the process of turning out badly,…you’d expect him to critique and correct certain mindsets so that [others] will learn.” He doesn’t.

Those words also describe Ruyak’s unsatisfying explanations for Howrey’s failure:

1.  European offices:

“The real problem we ran into in Europe was conflicts of interest…It’s a different analysis in Europe. But we had to apply the U.S. standards across Europe. That made it difficult to grow because we had to forgo a lot of cases…”

Analysis of potential conflicts issues should have anchored any business plan that began with London (2001) and continued with high-powered lateral acquisitions in Brussels (2002), Amsterdam (2003), Paris (2005), Munich (2007), and Madrid (2008). By July 2008, Howrey was Managing Intellectual Property‘s “Top U.S. Firm in Europe” with more than 100 lawyers there and plans for more.

More importantly, firms survive conflicts-related departures. But here, 26 European lawyers (12 partners, 14 associates) in October 2010 supposedly set off a chain reaction that crushed an otherwise healthy, 550-attorney firm that, only a decade earlier, had no European presence.

2.  Document discovery vendors.

“We created a whole portion of the firm to handle [document discovery] efficiently – using staff attorneys and sometimes temporary people, computer systems and facilities.” Along came some companies that were “offering to do this work less expensively at a lower price.”

But in May 2009, Ruyak had attributed part of Howrey’s Am Law 100-leading revenue surge to avoiding “areas that suffered significant downturns,” singling out for praise the firm’s five-year-old document review and electronic discovery center that added $47 million to the top line. So successful was the Falls Church operation that he was considering a second one on the West Coast. (The American Lawyer, May 2009, p.118)

Yet somehow, 75 staff attorneys and 100 temps accounting for 8% of Howrey’s $570 million gross in 2008 became a key contributor to the firm’s demise two years later.

3.  Contingent and alternative fees

“Unlike corporations that operate on an accrual basis, it’s hard to adjust from a cash base on your business to an accrual base where you are deferring significant amounts of revenue into future time periods. Once you make that adjustment, I think it works. But the adjustment period is difficult.”

In other words, partners couldn’t tolerate the deferred gratification associated with contingency fee matters. But they loved the upside. In 2008, Howrey’s average partner profits jumped almost 30% — to $1.3 million. When PPP dropped to $850,000 in 2009, Ruyak said 2008 had been an aberration resulting from $35 million in contingency receipts. (The American Lawyer, May 2010, p. 101)

Perhaps inadvertently, he revealed the real culprit: a revolution of rising expectations among the already rich. Ruyak put it this way: “Partners at major law firms have very little tolerance for change.”

If he’s referring to firms that have lost cohesion and a shared purpose beyond a myopic focus on current profits exceeding the last year’s, he’s right. But that culture exists for a reason. Aggressive lateral growth produces partners who don’t know each other. Firm allegiances become tenuous; the institutions themselves become fragile.

Ruyak’s self-serving explanations avoid accepting personal responsibility, but that’s not their greatest fault. The bigger problem is that other law firm leaders will find false comfort in his litany; it encourages the view that Howrey’s challenges were unique. As I said before, they weren’t.

ON TOUR

For anyone interested, I have upcoming appearances for my new legal thriller, The Partnership, in the Washington, DC area:

Saturday, March 19 — The Virginia Festival of the Book, Charlottesville, VA.

Saturday, April 9 — Annapolis Book Festival, The Key School, Annapolis, MD.

LAW SCHOOL DECEPTION — PART II

The National Law Journal just published its annual list of “go-to” schools — those that supply the most new associates to large law firms. Clearly, lower tier students aren’t alone in struggling to find jobs. One top school’s ride on the NLJ 250 rankings roller coaster is particularly interesting and instructive.

Northwestern jumped from eleventh to second place on the list in 2007. Then-Dean David Van Zandt credited the “tremendous effort to reach out to employers,” along with the emphasis on enrolling students with significant postgraduate work experience, as attracting big firm recruiters. Last year, Northwestern took the number one spot.

But in 2010, the school dropped to eighth — a relative decline that overall market trends don’t explain, but growing class size does. Northwestern awarded 234 JDs in 2007; the 2010 class had 50 more — 284. One reason: misguided short-term metrics became guiding principles.

Two years ago, the ABA Journal reported that Northwestern had become one of the most aggressive recruiters of transfer students (adding 43 to the first-year class). Such students were a win-win for short-term metrics-lovers: Their undisclosed LSATs didn’t count in the U.S. News rankings and their added tuition boosted the financial bottom line.

Meanwhile, Northwestern’s “go-to” position could continue dropping next year because the class of 2011 will include another new contingent — the first group of accelerated JDs. That program emerged from focus groups of large law firm leaders — part of the dean’s outreach program — who helped to shape Northwestern’s long-range strategic document, Plan 2008, Building Great Leaders for the Changing World.

That leads to another point: leadership. Defining a law school’s proper mission is critically important. There’s nothing wrong with getting input from all relevant constituencies, including large law firms. But retooling curriculum to fulfill big law’s stated desires for associate skills is a dubious undertaking.

In February 2010, Van Zandt explained his contrary rationale during a PLI presentation to large firm leaders. Simply put, he saw starting salaries as setting the upper limit that a school can charge for tuition. Accordingly, attending law school makes economic sense only if it leads to a job that offers a reasonable return on the degree’s required financial investment. However valid that perspective may be, the slipperiness of the resulting slope became apparent when Northwestern’s laudable goal — updating curriculum — focused on satisfying big firms that paid new graduates the most.

Tellingly, in the ABA’s Litigation quarterly, Van Zandt explained that high hourly rates made clients “unwilling to pay for the time a young lawyer spends learning on the job…As a result, the traditional training method of associate-partner mentoring gets sacrificed.” Law schools, he urged, should pick up that slack.

But the traditional training method gets sacrificed only because the firms’ prevailing business model doesn’t reward such uses of otherwise billable time. Rather than challenge leaders to reconsider their own organizations that produce staggering associate attrition rates and many dissatisfied attorneys, the dean embraced their short-term focus — maximizing current year profits per partner.

Relatively, Northwestern still fares well in the “go-to” rankings, but the data depict a dynamic exercise in magical thinking. Among the top 20 schools, it led the way in increasing class size as the school’s absolute big law placement numbers steadily declined: 172 in 2007; 154 in 2008; 142 in 2009; 126 in 2010.

Most law schools feel the continuing crunch. Overall, the top 50 law schools graduated 14,000 new lawyers in 2010; only 27% went to NLJ 250 firms — a drop of three percentage points (400 lawyers) from 2009. But that only highlights an obvious question: Why should that shrinking tail wag any dog? A diversified portfolio of career outcomes less dependent on large firms is a more prudent plan for schools and their students.

Even if jobs reappear, there’s another reason to combine balance with candor: Recent surveys indicate that a majority of large firm attorneys become dissatisfied with their careers anyway. Those metrics never appear on law school websites. Deans are uniquely positioned to help prospective students make informed decisions. They could serve the profession by focusing less on marketing and more on giving prospective students the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. If only there were a metric for it.

HOURLY RATES: PLEASE DON’T READ

For a long time, big law’s high-flying hourly rates remained under popular radar screens. Not anymore. On the heels of Jamie Wareham’s $5 million move to DLA Piper, The Wall Street Journal recently added “Big Law’s $1,000-Plus an Hour Club.”

Will big law leaders react with shame and embarrassment to such disclosures? Doubtful. Most partners will defend their rates as market-driven. As Weil, Gotshal & Manges’s bankruptcy partner Harvey Miller told the Journal bluntly: “The underlying principle is if you can get it, get it.”

He’s not alone. According to the article, “the average law-firm partner now asks $635 an hour and bills $575.” Ashby Jones’s companion online report quoted a law firm management consultant’s prediction that $2,000/hour for top partners could be only five years away.

“Get it if you can” is unworthy of a noble profession and a dangerous business plan. Some clients pay enormous rates to those who, as one in-house lawyer put it, are worth it. But rising resistance to $500+/hour associates creates problems for big law’s leveraged pyramid. At $1,000/hour, 2,000 partner hours generate $2 million in gross revenues, which is a lot less than these marquee players pocket annually. When younger attorneys’ hourly rates multiplied by their billables (less salary and bonus) no longer make up the difference, clients squeezing the bottom will dramatically reduce profits at the top. Along the way, the effort to preserve equity partner earnings will exacerbate the most unpleasant aspects of big law culture.

Another fault line runs through today’s high rates: Taxpayers are bearing some of those fees directly, not just through price elasticity curves that push some legal cost increases into the consumer price of a client’s goods or services. For example, last May, Harvey Miller’s firm had received $16 million in legal fees for work on the GM bankruptcy that taxpayers funded. With hubris that ignored the public’s financial contribution, Miller defended his resistance to discounts from Weil Gotshal’s reported rates of $500+/hour for associates to more than $1,000/hour for some senior partners: “If you had cancer and you were going into an operation, while you were lying on the table, would you look at the surgeon and say, ‘I’d like a 10 percent discount’? This is not a public, charitable event.” He was only half-right.

Similarly, Congress is now investigating legal fees that the federal government has paid to firms representing Fannie Mae and its former executives. When shareholders sued the company in 2004, each defendant retained separate counsel. That’s typical because a single attorney’s simultaneous representation of multiple defendants can create conflicts that inhibit zealously advocacy on behalf of any particular client. In such circumstances, indemnification agreements usually obligate the company to pay its former executives’ separate lawyers, as well as its own.

Normally, none of this would be controversial, but Fannie Mae isn’t normal. When it collapsed in 2008, the government assumed control. Taxpayers are now footing the legal bills — really big ones — for defending the company and its former executives in the pending lawsuits. The Times reported:

“The amount advanced by the government to pay legal bills for Fannie Mae and its former executives was a well-kept secret for more than two years. But the bills add up quickly. In the main lawsuit [overseen by Ohio attorney general Mike DeWine on behalf of two state pension funds that owned Fannie Mae shares], 35 to 40 lawyers representing Fannie defendants attend monthly conferences by the judge.”

It’s a tragic irony. In Ohio, state and local workers have taken to the streets in protesting budget reductions that would reduce their wages and end collective bargaining. Meanwhile, the attorney general leads a lawsuit against Fannie Mae and its former executives while federal taxpayers — some of whom are Ohioans — finance the defense that creates big paydays for a relatively few lawyers.

I don’t know these attorneys or their hourly rates. But generating national bipartisan outrage isn’t a good development for them or big law generally.

Sunlight can be a disinfectant, unless you’re a vampire.

HOWREY’S LESSONS

If Howrey LLP disappears, most big law leaders will make distinctions; they’ll focus on how their organizations are different from Howrey’s. More interesting are the similarities, especially the universal forces that might render others vulnerable to the highly respected firm’s current plight.

First is the speed with events can overtake seemingly secure institutions — and I’m not referring to the fall of Mubarak in Egypt. On May 19, 2008, the Legal Times hailed Howrey LLP’s chairman Robert Ruyak as one of the profession’s “Visionaries.” He deserved it. During the prior 30 years, his distinguished career enhanced Howrey’s reputation and the business of law in DC. But on February 1, 2011, he and Winston & Strawn’s managing partner Thomas Fitzgerald together urged Howrey partners to act quickly on Winston’s offers to hire about three-quarters of them. The big law world can rapidly take a dramatic and unexpected turn.

Second is the way unprecedented demand for big law services combined with the prevailing business model to create enormous financial paydays that became even larger as firms grew. When Ruyak became chairman in January 2000, Howrey ranked near the middle of the Am Law 100 in average profits per equity partner (PEP — $575,000). It had 325 attorneys (89 equity partners).

Ruyak’s strategy targeted growth in three core practice areas: antitrust, IP, and litigation. As the Legal Times observed, “To achieve that vision, Ruyak knew that the firm had to be bigger, so Howrey went on a merger spree.” It added Houston-based patent firm Arnold, White & Durkee, acquired the antitrust practice of Collier, Shannon, Rill & Scott, and established European offices in London, Amsterdam, Brussels, Paris, Munich, and Madrid.

By 2006, Howrey had 555 attorneys; its 127 equity partners averaged $1.2 million each. After profits dropped in 2007, they soared by almost 30% in 2008 — the biggest percentage revenue-per-lawyer gain in the Am Law 100. Howrey’s 2008 profits were $1.3 million per equity partner — an all-time high.

Third is the fragility that such financial prosperity created for the fabric of many law firm partnerships. When profits plunged 35% in 2009, Ruyak’s partial explanation was that 2008 had been aberrational. Large contingency receipts accounted for much of that year’s non-recurring spike. The firm was still “figuring out how to do [alternative fee arrangements] well.” (The American Lawyer, May 2010, p. 101)

Unfortunately, the revolution of rising expectations was underway; the short-term bottom-line mentality is an impatient and unforgiving two-edged sword. In 2000, Howrey had a clear identity and average equity partner profits of almost $600,000 — seemingly sufficient to keep partners satisfied and any firm stable. Certainly, that amount far exceeded any current big law equity partner’s wildest financial dreams when entering the profession. A decade later, disappointing projections that the firm might reach only 80-90% of its $940,000 PEP target (or $750,000 to $850,000) fed rumors and a perilous media downdraft.

Heller Ehrman proved that lateral hiring and law firm mergers risk sacrificing firm culture in ways that inflict unexpected damage. I don’t know if that has happened at Howrey, but when cash becomes king, partnership bonds remain only as tight as the glue that next year’s predicted equity partner profits provide, assuming those predictions are believed.

That leads to a final lesson: leadership requires credibility. Only two weeks before the remarkable joint message from Ruyak and Fitzgerald, Howrey spokespersons insisted that all was well: “The amount of costs taken out of the firm at all levels — which includes leases, partners, associates, and the like leaving the firm — have made the firm much more efficient,” vice-chairman Sean Boland said. “It’s done wonders for our cost structure, such that we’re going to see some major advantages in 2011. We’re very encouraged by the cost cutting that we’ve done.”

Likewise, one of its outside consultants said that the firm was “getting back to its strengths… What’s happening at Howrey is largely by design.” Maybe so. But from this distance, the parade of top partner departures and Ruyak’s involvement in Winston’s outstanding offers make the design appear curious, indeed.

In May 2008, the Legal Times, concluded with a senior partner’s observation that Howrey had become “a very exciting place to work.” I suspect that’s still true. As with most things legal, the definition is everything.

LOCATION, LOCATION, LOCATION?

In “Greed Atop the Pyramids,” I observed that the internal spread between the top and the bottom within large firm equity partnerships has grown dramatically in recent years. No one feels sorry for those at the low end, but the compensation for many top partners has reached staggering heights. My title suggested an explanation.

K&L Gates Chairman Peter Kalis — whom I’ve never met — has offered another reason: It’s not greed; it’s geography. His photograph appeared with The Wall Street Journal article on Jamie Wareham, “The $5 Million Dollar Man.” According to the Journal, at K&L Gates “top partners earn up to nine times as much as other partners. Pay spreads widen as firms become more geographically diverse, operating in cities with varying costs of living, said Peter Kalis, chairman of K&L Gates. The firm’s pay spread rose from about 5-to-1 to as much as 9-to-1 in the past decade as it expanded. ‘Houses cost less in Pittsburgh than they do in London,’ Mr. Kalis said.”

Let’s consider that proposition. It’s certainly true that London is more expensive than New York, and New York is more expensive than Pittsburgh. It’s also true that some firms consider cost-of-living differences when setting compensation; some apply formulaic across-the-board geographical adjustments. But the issue involves the top of a widening range, not the relative cost of comparable talent across offices.

Here’s how to test the hypothesis that geography accounts for this relatively new phenomenon: Are all of a firm’s top equity partners located in the city of the firm’s most expensive office? I doubt it. Or try it from the other side: Are any of the biggest paydays going to partners working in less expensive cities? Almost certainly.

I don’t know how much Kalis makes, but he might even be a useful example. His K&L Gates website biography page shows a commendable involvement in a number of Pittsburgh-area civic organizations. In addition to his Pittsburgh office, the page also lists a New York phone number, but his only bar admission is Pennsylvania. He’s certainly not headquartered in the most expensive cities where K&L Gates has offices — Tokyo, Moscow, Hong Kong, Singapore, Beijing, London, or Paris. My hunch is that, as Chairman and Global Managing Partner, he’s not at the low end of his firm’s equity partner compensation range, either. So why the superficially appealing but ultimately unpersuasive “houses are cheaper in Pittsburgh” line to explain away a pervasive big law trend?

Perhaps it’s because reality is sometimes harsh and unflattering. Citing a former pay consultant for law firms, the Journal article noted, “A majority of big law firms have begun reducing the compensation level of 10% to 30% of their partners each year, partly to free up more money to award top producers.”

I don’t know if that has happened at K&L Gates, but other law firm management consultants have suggested that the need to attract and retain rainmakers in a volatile market has widened the top-to-bottom equity partner range in many firms:

“Before the recession, [the top-to-bottom equity partner compensation ratio] was typically five-to-one in many firms. Very often today, we’re seeing that spread at 10-to-1, even 12-to-1.”

Finally, the Journal article itself provides additional evidence that something other than geography is at work: “A small number of elite firms, such as Simpson Thacher & Bartlett LLP and Cravath, Swaine & Moore LLP, still hew to narrower compensation bands, ranging from 3-to-1 to 4-to-1, typically paying the most to those with the longest service….”

Cravath has a London office. Simpson Thacher has offices in Beijing, Hong Kong, London, Los Angeles, New York, Palo Alto, Sao Paolo, Tokyo, and Washington, DC. Yet they have avoided the surging top-to-bottom equity partnership pay gaps that Kalis attributes to geography.

To understand what has really happened recently inside big firms — and why — read The Partnership.

There is, indeed, greed atop the pyramids — even in Pittsburgh.

Are You Worth $5 Million?

The Wall Street Journal’s front page reported that litigator Jamie Wareham “will make about $5 million a year, a significant raise from his pay at Paul, Hastings, Janofsky & Walker LLP, where he has been one of the highest paid partners.”

This phenomenon – superstar lateral hiring – is nothing new, but in recent years it has become more common. For those who remember the 1980s, it’s vaguely reminiscent of the period when ill-fated Finley Kumble turned that strategy into a losing business model.

Of course, Finley failed for many reasons that may distinguish it from current trends. Still, those running that firm into extinction as they signed up marquee players who couldn’t carry their own economic weight probably wished they’d asked this question:

How can you determine whether a lawyer is worth $5 million?

Reserved for another day are the broader implications, including the challenges that significant lateral desertions and insertions at the top present to the very concept of firm partnership. This article focuses solely on underlying financial considerations associated with the superstar lateral hire.

Presumably, bringing in a big-name player makes economic sense for a firm operating under the prevailing business model, which means that at least one of the following conditions are met:

First, the proposed lateral has an independent book of business suitable for delivery to the new firm. That would be simple, but for the clients themselves. Even if they hired and regularly use a particular partner, they probably also like his or her package of assembled talent. Consequently, the lateral must bring along a team of capable junior lawyers. Alternatively, the new firm may have excess attorney inventory that it can deploy, but that requires the lateral to persuade clients to use new lawyers who can quickly and efficiently climb their learning curves.

Second, even absent a short-term economic justification, a firm could rationally conclude that anticipated events make the talent investment worthwhile for its future strategic positioning. Recent examples include firms that loaded up on bankruptcy attorneys when the economy was still strong. The crash of 2008 made them look like geniuses. More speculative are the “if you hire them, clients will come” bets that managers sometimes make. Former government employees, along with high-profile attorneys who lack a portable client following but are on everyone’s short-list of best lawyers, fall into this category.

For the first category, short-term value is simple arithmetic. According to the latest Am Law 100 report, Wareham’s old firm, Paul Hastings, had a 41% profit margin in 2009. If the “substantially less” than $5 million he’ll make at DLA Piper was — say, $4 million – he would have needed revenues of $10 million to earn his keep there, assuming no other equity partners claimed any part of that gross. At a total blended attorney rate for all attorneys on his client matters of $500/hour, that translates into 20,000 billable hours.

But at DLA Piper and its reportedly lower profit margin (26%), Wareham will have to produce almost $20 million to support a $5 million share of firm profits. At a blended hourly rate of $500, that means more than 40,000 hours. (If he is selling clients on a move with him on the promise of lower hourly rates, the billables requirement at DLA Piper would become even higher.)

If one of the 20 or so attorneys on Wareham’s team is another equity partner earning, say, $1 million, then the minimum break-even billables bogey moves proportionately higher. (Assuming a 26% profit ratio, it takes about $4 million gross — 8,000 hours at a blended rate of $500/hour — to net $1 million.)

Insofar as the lateral acquisition’s value relates to the second category – future payoff — big name players get a grace period. But at some point, the economic imperatives of the first category will surface. When that happens, they’ll feel the revenue and related billable hours heat even more than everyone else — except, of course, the attorneys working for them.

Such is the economically successful lateral hire outcome. Failure on a sufficiently large scale produces Finley Kumble.

GREED ATOP THE PYRAMIDS

Three recent reports are more interesting when read together: the National Law Journal‘s annual headcount survey at the largest 250 law firms, the Citi Law Firm Group’s third quarter report on law firm performance, and the Association of Corporate Counsel/The American Lawyer (ACC/TAL) Alternative Billing 2010 Survey.

The headline from the NLJ 250 item: a 1,400 drop in 2010 total attorney headcount. This qualified as a welcome improvement over the far deeper plunge in 2009. Associates took the biggest hit, accounting for about 1,000 of the eliminated positions.

That doesn’t sound too bad, until you realize that it’s a net reduction number. As 5,000 new law school graduates got large firm jobs, many more — over 6,000 — lost (or left) theirs. This simple arithmetic suggests an unsettling reality: The relatively few who land big law jobs may discover that keeping them is an even more daunting challenge.

In some respects, that’s nothing new. Long before the Great Recession began, attrition was a central feature of most large firm business models. In 2007, lucrative starting positions were plentiful, but big law’s five-year associate attrition rate was 80%. Some of it was voluntary; some involuntary. The survival rate for those continuing the journey to equity partner was exceedingly small.

That takes us to the Citi report. The only really good news now goes to top equity partners: For them, big law’s short-term profit-maximizing model remains alive and well. The formula remains simple: Firms are imposing increasingly strict limits on equity partnership entry and, according to Citi, charging clients higher hourly rates overall as some partners remain busy with tasks that less costly billers performed previously. (Equity partners have to keep their hours up, too.) Amid the bloodshed elsewhere, average equity partner profits for the Am Law 100 actually rose slightly in 2009 — to $1.26 million. Not bad for the first full year of the worst economic downturn in a century.

But even that remarkable average masks growing wealth gaps within equity partnerships. One law firm management consultant observed, “Before the recession, [the top-to-bottom equity partner compensation ratio] was typically five-to-one in many firms. Very often today, we’re seeing that spread at 10-to-1, even 12-to-1.” That is stunning.

While maintaining leverage and increasing hourly rates, the third leg of the profits stool likewise remains intact: billable hours. As business picks up, firms are hiring fewer associates than in earlier recovery periods. Under the guise of transparency, some newbies are hearing that they have to meet monthly billable hours targets in addition to the annual requirements reported to NALP.

The ACC/TAL survey reveals why: Earlier rhetoric surrounding the new world of alternative fees was largely empty. Hourly billing remains king of the fee-generating hill. As another Am Law survey confirmed, simple discounts from regular hourly rates accounted for 80% of so-called alternative fee arrangements last year.

The pressure to bill hours is increasing. Unfortunately, it remains an important, albeit misnamed, productivity metric. Indeed, rewarding time alone is the antithesis of measuring true productivity, which should focus on the efficiency of completing tasks — not the total number of  hours used to get them done.

As one law firm management consultant told the NLJ, “We’re finally seeing the bottom of the legal recession…There’s been a reset. There are fewer lawyers producing more work and more revenue.”

When the Am Law 100 profit results come out in May, Citi’s prediction will come true: As the economy continues to sputter and young law school graduates worry about their prospects, overall average profits per equity partner will follow their steady upward trajectory.

Law firm management consultants might say all of this results from increased productivity that the “reset” of big law has produced. That’s one way to put it. But the the growing spread between highest and lowest within equity partnerships — coupled with the plight of everyone else — may reveal something more sinister: The worst economic downturn of modern times has provided protective cover to greed atop the pyramids.

FROM KENTUCKY TO CRAVATH TO CHASE

Six months ago, I wrote about a new development at Cravath. (https://thebellyofthebeast.wordpress.com/2010/06/03/a-better-alternative-or-a-leap-from-the-frying-pan/) The Wall Street Journal reported that the firm was allowing lawyers in their 30s and 40s to “make a name for themselves” by taking the lead on client deals. Tradition dictated deference to elders in such matters, but Cravath’s lock-step system meant that “older attorneys didn’t mind because the pay they received didn’t get cut” as younger attorneys gained a higher profile. (http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748703630304575270472434024454.html)

“‘We’re more aggressive than we used to be,’ said 41-year-old Cravath partner James Woolery. ‘This is not your grandfather’s Cravath.’ He said the new approach means more ‘hustling for loose balls’ than in the past.”

When the article appeared, I wondered if Cravath’s experiment would backfire, leading young partners to consolidate clients, billings, and power for personal gain — even, perhaps. chafing at Cravath’s vaunted lock-step system. After all, financially motivated defections now pervade big law.

Alternatively, I speculated that allowing eager lawyers to run with client batons could be a win-win situation. If they remained loyal, the upstarts could grow the entire pie in true partner-like fashion.

I missed the obvious: Some rising young partners at Cravath didn’t want to be lawyers anymore. Woolery himself is now leaving to co-head JP Morgan Chase’s North American mergers and acquisitions. ((http://dealbook.nytimes.com/2011/01/20/cravaths-woolery-to-join-jpmorgan-as-senior-deal-maker/)

“I’ve had a business management focus, even at Cravath, and this opportunity allows me to expand that,” Wollery told the Times. He said the move would allow him to build on skills that he’d been honing, including business development.

Business development?

He elaborated for the Am Law Daily:

“Woolery points to his experience running Cravath’s business development group as the driving factor behind his decision to move to J.P. Morgan. In the five years that he has led the group, it has evolved from a pitch book operation to a more substantial research and development group consisting of 30 professionals — corporate and litigation attorneys, and analysts.

“‘Doing that work was what led me to wanting to do this job [at J.P. Morgan].'” (http://amlawdaily.typepad.com/amlawdaily/2011/01/woolery.html)

From the University of Kentucky College of Law to Cravath partner, he now moves to a position that doesn’t even require a law degree. Maybe there’s more behind Woolery’s move — more money, more challenges — who knows? But a successful young lawyer in search of more clients found a client in search of him, albeit not for his skills as an attorney.

Big firm lawyers are increasingly assuming non-attorney corporate positions. (http://amlawdaily.typepad.com/amlawdaily/2010/12/lawyers-ceos.html) It’s additional proof of the profession’s transformation to a business: Many large law firms have developed cultures that make them training grounds for corporate leaders. Fully corporatized lawyers don’t even need an MBA to advance. (Woolery doesn’t have one.)

As an educator of students tracking themselves toward the law, I wonder how rising legal stars now leaving the profession altogether would answer these questions:

ON LAW SCHOOL

Why did you attend law school in the first place? Like many others, did you view it as the last bastion of a liberal arts major who couldn’t decide what to do next? Did you regard it as a circuitous path to a corporate career? If so, wouldn’t getting an MBA have been more efficient?

ON THEIR JOBS

Did your legal work and resulting career match your expectations? If not, in what ways — good and bad?

ON LIFE

Have you enjoyed a satisfying career? Have changes in you, your firm, or the profession played a role in your departure from the profession? It’s not just about money, is it?

Most big law attorneys say they’re too busy billing hours to consider these questions at all, much less on a regular basis. It reminds me of Yogi Berra’s response to his wife’s complaints as they got lost while he drove to Cooperstown for his Hall of Fame induction ceremony.

“I know we’re lost,” he finally admitted, “but we’re making good time!”

Yogi arrived at his desired destination. Too many lawyers never think about theirs — and then wonder why they’re dissatisfied professionally.

CULTURE SHOCK

On December 30, K&L Gates Chairman Peter Kalis sent an email that recently reached the legal blogosphere. Bluntly, he reminded fellow partners to get their outstanding client bills paid before the firm’s fiscal year-end. Above the Law reproduced it [complete with typos purportedly from the original]:

“Let me be clear about a couple of things. First, partners and administrators at this law firm are expected to run through the tape at midnight on December 31. Many of you came from different cultures. I don’t care about your prior acculturation. We didn’t conscript you into service at this law firm. You came volunatrily [sic]. What we are you are as well.

“And that brings me to my second point. We are a US-based global law firm. US law firms operate on a cash basis of accounting. Our fees must be collected by midnight within the fiscal year in which they are due. You don’t get to opt out of this feasture [sic] because it doesn’t appeal to you. Again, I couldn’t care less whether it appeals to you. It is who we are and therefore it is who you are. Get us paid by tomrrow [sic].” (http://abovethelaw.com/2011/01/the-two-faces-of-kl-gates/)

The message demonstrates three things — from the predictably banal to the inadvertently profound.

First, although the tone is a bit harsh, the substantive content doesn’t surprise any big law partner. Most lawyers aren’t particularly good businessmen. Reminding them that aging invoices require follow-up isn’t evil or wrong; it’s necessary. No attorney enjoys nagging clients about an overdue receivable. Presumably, the December 30 message was just the final step in a sustained year-end drive asking partners to complete a task that they’d otherwise avoid (as I did).

Second, email is perilous. Speedy communication can be great, but it’s fraught with danger. In less than a minute, you can address, type, and send a message to an entire group (and eventually reach many more blog readers). If you don’t take the time to proofread for typos, much less reflect on how others might later analyze your statements, no one will stop you from hitting the send button. Once released, the words assume a life of their own and context disappears. Every trial lawyer who has sought to explain away a client’s unflattering email message understands the problem. Surprisingly, some of those same lawyers fail to apply the lesson to their own writings. Next time, Kalis will probably prepare a script and deliver his thoughts via voicemail.

The third point has nothing to do with substance — that is, chiding partners to get client bills paid. Rather, the message acknowledges an unintended consequence of the prevailing big law business model: It has produced unprecedented lateral partner mobility that, in turn, erodes distinctive firm cultures. Two sentences make the point:

“Many of you came from different cultures. I don’t care about your prior acculturation.”

Six months ago, I praised Kalis for encouraging prospective associates to put interviewing partners on the spot when he urged: “[Recruits] should ask searching questions. How practice has changed over the years and how you deal with the changing demands. And how hard it is to reconcile your life at work with the rest of your life…I don’t believe lawyers should bow to icons. I want them to look me in the eye and ask tough questions.”  (http://thecareerist.typepad.com/thecareerist/2010/06/kl-gates-likes-them-sassy.htmlhttps://thebellyofthebeast.wordpress.com/2010/07/09/summer-associates-take-note-inadvertent-revelations/)

Although they probably won’t pose them, recruits now have more tough questions for him and other big law attorneys: As partners lateral into equity partnerships, what does the culture of the receiving firms become? Does it coalesce around the common denominator of maximizing current-year profits? Or is there room for other, non-monetary values that have traditionally defined the profession? If it’s the latter, how does the firm encourage them?

The answers matter because Kalis’s email emphasizes (twice): “What we are you are as well.”

I don’t know about K&L Gates, but what passes for culture in too many big firms is his message’s final exhortation: “Get us paid by tomrrow [sic].”

ON AMY CHUA

I have three questions about Amy Chua’s new book:

1. Where’s Dad?

By now, almost everyone knows that Chua followed what she calls the “Chinese way” of child-rearing. She and her husband, fellow Yale Law professor Jed Rubenfeld, agreed to it before the birth of their first daughter. Her book’s most unsettling vignettes demonstrate the technique: rejecting her four-year-old’s handmade “Happy Birthday Mummy” card as inadequate; refusing to allow bathroom breaks from piano practice; threatening to burn a child’s stuffed animals if she didn’t play a recital piece perfectly; calling her child “garbage.”

I was home for family dinners and coached all of my sons’ little league and daughter’s softball teams, so I wondered how Chua’s husband fit into this mess. In an interview with The Guardian (http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2011/jan/15/amy-chua-tiger-mother-interview), Chua gave this hint:

“‘All the way through, Jed was bringing balance to the family, insisting that we were going to go on family bike rides and to Yankees games and apple-picking and water slides and bowling and mini-golfing, so we socialised a lot actually …’.”

But another passage suggests that he just checked out: “He said, ‘Look, this is your book. I supported you but you were the one that had a strong world-view about how to raise your kids. It’s your world-view, it’s your book.'”

Chua is a high-powered whirlwind who admitted to The Guardian that she loses her temper, is harsh, and yells — so much that she fears her daughters will follow her example. If that misbehavior broke Jed, too, then it explains his absence from the book’s subtitle: “This is a story about a mother, two daughters, and two dogs.”

2. Can Chua think outside her own box?

The mind is fragile. I think individuals at the high end of the standard normal intelligence curve feel most acutely life’s greatest psychological challenges — especially during adolescence. Both of Chua’s daughters are gifted. Like thoroughbred race horses, they merit special handling; not coddling — handling. For a long time, they didn’t get it.

Chua backed off her extreme approach after younger daughter Lulu, then 13, exploded publicly. She smashed a glass and screamed, “I’m not what you want – I’m not Chinese! I don’t want to be Chinese. Why can’t you get that through your head? I hate the violin. I hate my life. I hate you, and I hate this family!”

Now add this data. The Department of Health and Human Services reports that Asian-American women ages 15-24 have the highest suicide rate of women in any race or ethnic classification in that age group. Suicide is the second-leading cause of death for Asian-American women in that age range; family pressures to achieve are a contributor. (http://articles.cnn.com/2007-05-16/health/asian.suicides_1_asian-american-families-asian-women-asian-american-parents?_s=PM:HEALTH) Lulu’s outburst opened Chua’s eyes; it also might have saved Lulu’s own life.

Yet in a recent interview on NBC Nightly News, Chua said that she’d make only “small adjustments” in pursuing the same parenting strategy again. Admitting error isn’t her strong suit; maybe additional practice drills will help.

3. What’s ahead?

Chua has published an ongoing, uncontrolled, and incomplete experiment. Unfortunately, other parents might view her — a Harvard graduate teaching at Yale (where they don’t give grades, by the way) — as providing a template for others. Certainly, a parent shouldn’t indulge a child’s every whim, or mischaracterize mere participation as excellence.

But there’s something to be said for parenting, even in tough-love situations, that maintains fundamental respect for the child as a human being. Retrospective reassessment is difficult for anyone, but I hope someday Chua’s kids can revisit their mother’s definition of success to decide whether they want it to be theirs.

How will Chua’s children — now 18 and 14 — ultimately fare? No one will know the answer for decades. Regrettably, their mother has now made them a subject of continuing scrutiny. Chua said that every friend and family member who read her manuscript urged her not to publish it. She ignored that advice and has another achievement — a best-seller whose author embodies the difference between intelligence and wisdom.

NUMBERS TELL A STORY

When challenged to tell a story in as few words as possible, Ernest Hemingway replied with six: “For sale: Baby shoes — never worn.”

I’m not Hemingway, but in his spirit of brevity, I offer five phrases — totaling eight words — distilling a recent Wall Street Journal article, “Law Firms Hold Line In Setting Bonuses,” by Vanessa O’Connell and Nathan Koppel. It appeared on the Monday after Christmas, so you might have missed it.

***
HOURS UP: “Average hours billed by associates at the nation’s top 50 law firms by revenue rose by 7% in 2010.”
***
BONUSES FLAT: “At New York-based Milbank, Tweed, Hadley & McCoy LLP, where bonuses were only slightly above last year’s payouts, hours billed by associates were up about 6%.” [According to Above the Law, the firm’s 2010 bonuses ranged from $7,500 for first-year associates to $35,000 for those in the class of 2003. That’s a big drop from 2006, when first-year associates received “special year-end bonuses” of $30,000. Student-loan repayment requirements have not experienced a similar decline.]
***
MANAGERS RATIONALIZE: “‘The actual number of [billed] hours is still low compared to what it has historically been,’ [says Milbank’s Chairman Mel M. Immergut].”
***
PARTNERS WIN: “Revenue at Milbank Tweed will be up by about 3% on flat expenses, Mr. Immergut says, adding that profit per partner will be up by 8% to 10%, depending on year-end collections.” According to The American Lawyer, Milbank Tweed’s average profits per partner in 2009 were $2.230 million. How much is enough? The answer appears to be “More.”

LAW SCHOOL DECEPTION

Last Sunday, the NY Times asked: Are law schools deceiving prospective students into incurring huge debt for degrees that aren’t worth it?

Of course they are. The U.S. News is an aider and abettor. As the market for new lawyers shrinks, a key statistic in compiling the publication’s infamous rankings is “graduates known to be employed nine months after graduation.” Any job qualifies — from joining Cravath to waiting tables. According to the Times, the most recent average for all law schools is 93%. If gaming the system to produce that number doesn’t cause students to ignore the U.S. News’ rankings altogether, nothing will.

My friend, Indiana University’s Maurer School of Law Professor Bill Henderson, told the Times that looking at law schools’ self-reported employment numbers made him feel “dirty.” I assume he’s concerned that prospective students rely on that data in deciding whether and where to attend law school. I agree with him.

But an equally telling kick in the head is buried in the lengthy Times article: Most graduates who achieve their initial objectives — starting positions in big firms paying $160,000 salaries — quickly lose the feeling that they’re winners. Certainly, they must be better off than the individuals chronicled in the article. What could be worse than student debt equal to a home mortgage, albeit without the home?

Try a legal job with grueling hours, boring work, and little prospect of a long-term career. Times reporter David Segal summarized the cliche’: “Law school is a pie-eating contest where first prize is more pie.”

These distressing outcomes for students and associates aren’t inevitable. In fact, they’re relatively new phenomena with a common denominator: Business school-type metrics that make short-term pursuit of the bottom line sterile, objective, and laudable. Numbers prove who’s best and they don’t lie.

Law school administrators manipulate employment data because they have ceded their reasoned judgment to mindless ranking criteria. (“[M]illions of dollars [are] riding on students’ decisions about where to go to law school, and that creates real institutional pressures,” says one dean who believes that pandering to U.S. News rankings isn’t gaming the system; it’s making a school better.)

Likewise, today’s dominant large firm culture results from forces that produced the surge in average equity partner income for the Am Law 50 — from $300,000 in 1985 to $1.5 million in 2009. Leveraged pyramids might work for a few at the top; for everyone else — not so much.

The glut of law school applicants, as well as graduates seeking big firm jobs to repay their loans, leaves law school administrators and firm managers with no economic incentive to change their ways. The profession needs visionaries who are willing to resist perpetuating the world in which debt-laden graduates are becoming the 21st century equivalent of indentured servants.

Henderson calls for law school transparency in the form of quality employment statistics. I endorse his request and offer a parallel suggestion: Through their universities’ undergraduate prelaw programs, law schools should warn prospective students about the path ahead before their legal journeys begin.

Some students enter law school expecting to become Atticus Finch or the lead attorneys on Law & Order. Others pursue large firm equity partnerships as a way to riches. Few realize that career dissatisfaction plagues most of the so-called winners who land what they once thought were the big firm jobs of their dreams.

A legal degree can lead to many different careers. The urgency of loan repayment schedules creates a practical reality that pushes most students in big law’s direction. If past is prologue, the vast majority of them will not be happy there. They should know the truth — the whole truth — before they make their first law school tuition payments. Minimizing unwelcome surprises will create a more satisfied profession.

Meanwhile, can we all agree to ignore U.S. News rankings and rely on our own judgments instead of its stupid criteria? Likewise, can big law managers move away from their myopic focus on the current year’s equity partner profits as a definitive culture-determining metric? I didn’t think so.

MEASURING VALUES

In a recent NY Times column, David Brooks wrote about the future of our nation, but one observation applies to big law:

“In a world of relative equals, the U.S. will have to learn to define itself not by its rank, but by its values. It will be important to have the right story to tell, the right purpose and the right aura. It will be more important to know who you are.” (http://www.nytimes.com/2010/12/14/opinion/14brooks.html?_r=1&ref=opinion)

Large law firms, too, have become a world of relative equals. That has been an unintended consequence of the transformation from a profession to a business. In pursuit of rank, too many managers rely on B-school-type metrics — billings, billable hours, leverage ratios — as definitive measures of worth. They use them as substitutes for independent judgments based on values that are less easily quantified.

Behavior follows incentives. Partners jockey for internal position and managers focus myopically on short-term profits. They believe that favorable Am Law rankings will distinguish them but, Brooks argues, similar thinking would be a mistake for our country over the long-run.

It’s equally true for big firms. High-paying clients assume that only the best and brightest lawyers will work on their matters. But to attract and retain those attorneys, even the self-described top firms will have to offer more than money. In that contest, values will separate the biggest winners from everyone else.

Of course, in the very short-term, top graduates respond to the urgency of school loan repayment schedules. But as the novelty of a steady paycheck fades, the superstars will yearn for something else. They’ll understand that a firm’s “make more money” mantra limits its vision. For most, it fails to offer long-term career satisfaction. Indeed, the prevailing model doesn’t even contemplate long-term careers for the vast majority of new hires.

The most ambitious and talented new graduates are already beginning to understand the game. As greater knowledge of what lies ahead empowers students to make better decisions, firms viewing their own missions merely as maximizing this year’s equity partner profits will lose the values contest for the next generation’s talent. It won’t happen this year or next, but it will happen.

What are the winning values? Here are some suggestions:

Resisting the deceptive simplicity of short-term metrics. Embracing efforts to shed light on a troubled business model. Requiring decency in all human interactions. Punishing bullies. Providing young lawyers with mentors, training, and opportunities because even the best internal programs are no substitutes for the real thing. (Pro bono programs can help as they advance other important values.) Creating a reality that matches more closely students’ prelaw expectations of what being a lawyer would mean.

Offering realistic prospects for long-term careers. Without tolerating mediocre performers, implementing decision-making processes that minimize the impacts of internal politics and clashing personalities in determining the fate of human beings. Providing meaningful and candid reviews while also jettisoning arbitrary barriers that the leveraged pyramid model imposes on equity partnership entry. Advancing all who deserve promotion.

Conquering the billable hour and its death-grip on associate compensation. Finding a way to measure attorney productivity that rewards those who complete a task efficiently — and penalizes those whose long hours produce big client billings based on diminishing (or negative) returns.

To secure their firms’ futures, thoughtful partners will accept modest reductions from the staggering personal incomes that they’ve enjoyed in recent years. Those willing to make the investment will reap great dividends. Large firms depend uniquely on the wisdom, judgment, and intelligence of their attorneys. The best new graduates will flock to firms cherishing values consistent with a satisfying career, even if it means less money (although in the long-run, it probably won’t).

As for the rest? Much of big law will continue pursuing the highest short-term dollar — wherever it is and whatever its cost to others, their institutions, or the profession. Such is the power of greed. But those who measure everything they value risk creating an unpleasant world in which they value only what they measure.

“IT’S A WONDERFUL [BIG LAW] LIFE?”

‘Twas the week before Christmas when all through the firm,

The coming New Year caused every body to squirm.

Associates awaited the annual time,

When they’d learn of a bonus, oh so sublime.

***

The seasoned had worked a lot harder this year,

As dreams of a partner’s life blurred hope and fear.

Equity partners were again in a squeeze:

They ate what they killed. Who was ever at ease?

***

As happens whenever there is a recession,

Clients sought value; their lawyers fought depression.

While pondering how most large law firms had changed,

I overheard rustling, peculiar and strange.

***

The holidays! I remembered at last.

Hard to believe, one more year had now passed.

Whispers foreshadowed the annual display,

“The Chairman is here…he’s in town for the day.”

***

Chance and fortuity determine one’s fate,

Except for our Chairman who thought himself great.

A new breed of leader who’d come to the fore,

How much is enough? He will answer you: “More.”

***

I sprang from my desk for a glimpse of the man

Who’d been somewhere warm; he was sporting a tan.

With a custom made suit, crisp shirt, and red tie,

I knew in a moment that this was The Guy.

***

He walked not alone but with minions galore,

They seemed like a dozen, but there were just four.

The group strode by briskly – as followers massed,

I stepped forward slowly. Who cares if I’m last?

***

“The large conference room,” I heard someone say,

“That’s where the Chairman will speak this grand day.”

I dutifully followed the gathering throng

To where The Great Man was to sing us his song.

***

As dry mouth with oral argument arises,

I feared he’d be off’ring unpleasant surprises.

He was dressed to the nines – impressively so.

I prayed that he’d speak his piece quickly and go.

***

With the crowd settling in to hear his remarks,

I knew what was coming – pure brimstone and sparks.

“It’s that time again,” he began with a cheer,

“As we near the end of our firm’s fiscal year.”

***

“Get bills out at once and then follow them through.

Be relentless with clients; be tough; be true.

If our profits decline, it’s trouble for all,

Money binds us as one – without it, we’ll fall.”

***

He turned to associates, awaiting the news,

Another bad year? They looked closely for clues.

They all knew the truth: The firm’s profits still soared.

But what partners share their great wealth with the horde?

***

“We’re a business,” the Chairman silenced the joint.

“All else is, well, really quite outside the point.

It takes a whole team to keep the wheels turning,

Billed hours are key – although some call it churning.”

***

“Billables – that is the firm’s soul and its heart,

That means you associates must all do your part.”

As this aging hypocrite climbed the ladder,

Mentors told him that his hours did not matter.

***

I hoped he was done, but alas he was not:

“Associate morale is stuck deep in a pot.

So you’ll each get a bonus matching our peers,

And we’ve formed a committee – they’ll dry your tears.”

***

“I can’t promise mentors, good training, or more,

But you’ll out-earn friends for whom life’s less a chore.

You still have school loans that will not go away.

So happy or not, you will all want to stay.”

***

“Remember the job that you have in this crash,

Your unemployed friends would take on in a flash.

Keep making me rich – as much as you’re able,

What else can you do? Wash dishes? Wait tables?”

***

“Lest you think that I’m heartless, greedy, or crass,

I’m running a business, not being an ass.

A handful of metrics rule everything now,

Billables, leverage, the pyramid – Wow!”

***

His message delivered, he soon left the floor.

He picked up his iPad and walked out the door.

But I heard him exclaim as he vanished from view,

“Keep those hours rising – your worst enemy is you!”

—— Steven J. Harper, December 2010

*****************************************************

Thanks to all of you, the editors of the ABA Law Blawg chose The Belly of the Beast as one of the 100 best blogs of 2010. To be selected from more than 3,000 in the ABA directory is humbling, especially for this novice blogger.

Happy Holidays – and please return in the New Year! I will.

BONUS TIME!

Firms that abandoned lock-step in favor of merit-based compensation a year ago are now reversing course. Why?

The prevailing theory is backlash. Associate dissatisfaction pervades big law; some saw “competency models” as thinly disguised efforts to reduce associate wages.  (http://www.lawjobs.com/newsandviews/LawArticle.jsp?id=1202443769098&rss=newswire&slreturn=1&hbxlogin=1) Restoring lock-step, the argument goes, should enhance morale.

But when firm leaders really care about morale, they’ll ask associates to evaluate partners on mentoring, training, and overall humanity — and, at least to some extent, partner compensation will reflect the results. Instead of looking into those unpleasant mirrors, managers are likely to form a new committee investigating the “associate problem,” as if it were a mystery.

One way to improve morale would be to tell associates the truth earlier. But quality merit review is tough work. Performing it properly is not in most large firms’ short-term economic interests. For starters, they can’t bill the time to clients.

When I chaired my firm’s associate review committee in the 1990s, the process focused on a single goal: Identifying the best among a distinguished group. That meant evaluating specific skills, developmental needs, and future prospects. To squeeze out personality conflicts and internal politics, partners from outside their assigned associates’ practice areas gathered performance information. Then the committee actually deliberated for an entire day.

In an era when lateral partner movement among firms was rare, promotion decisions were akin to choosing a new family member. Admittedly, subjective judgments produced the distinctions, but partners generally played fair with the next generations. The integrity of the process produced widespread respect for outcomes.

In those days, compensation didn’t turn on billable hours. High outliers (those billing over 2,400) were singled out for counseling that doesn’t happen anymore: “If you burn out, you’re no good to us or anyone else.” Low outliers (below 1,600) attracted a different concern: “Partners aren’t giving that person work. Why? Is there a performance problem?” Between those extremes, hours had little impact on reviews or compensation. As incredible as that now sounds, it was true throughout big law. Just ask the senior partner who is pressing you to “get your hours up.”

Transparency worked. Knowing relative position allowed associates to handicap prospects while they were most marketable. Performance ratings translated into monetary distinctions that spoke for themselves. Anyone displeased with the message could explore other options.

New York firms pioneered lock-step. Exploding client demand caused many more to follow. Uniform compensation to a class allowed partners to postpone the day of reckoning for those with limited futures. Unpleasant news went undelivered.

Some partners rationalized the failure to provide more candid feedback: “We need the bodies to run our business. We’re paying them decent money. So they’re doing ok.”

The first two points were true: A myopic MBA-mentality emerged and departing associates often found that their new positions paid substantially less than they had been making. But doing ok? Some lost their jobs, their lifestyle, and chunks of their self-image in a single belated conversation.

Lock-step was also supposed to improve morale by reducing internal competition. But as compensation packages ballooned, associate satisfaction plummeted and voluntary attrition skyrocketed. Bonuses tied to hours but unrelated to quality erode meritocracies and morale — as does boring work that doesn’t enhance attorney skills.

Modern mega-firms now face the toughest task. To perform truly merit-based reviews, they must develop meaningful individual assessments for legions of associates — sometimes hundreds in a single office. Without proof that the exercise contributes to the bottom line, what incentivizes firms to devote the non-billable time required to perform reviews diligently? Management’s concern for the future, you say? At most big firms, that means projecting next year’s equity partner profits. They’re counting on laterals to fill quality gaps.

Associates should be skeptical about how firms now promising merit review will deliver quality feedback. But lock-step that camouflages meaningful information is no panacea. Student loan repayment demands notwithstanding, sooner is better than later when it comes to acquiring the knowledge that frames life’s most important decisions.

COMMENDABLE COMMENT AWARD

Words matter. When I hear a lawyer’s remark that resonates profoundly beyond its immediate context. I’ll pass it along here. Nominations are now open for this new feature, which may have a darkside counterpart to this article’s title — perhaps “Condemnable Communication Award” (for which Steven Pesner’s memo on time submissions would have qualified  — see “EXPLAINING BAD BEHAVIOR”  https://thebellyofthebeast.wordpress.com/2010/12/02/explaining-bad-behavior/). But let’s launch this endeavor on a positive note.

December 5 wasn’t an ordinary Sunday for Jeffrey Kindler. At age 55, he surprised most of the business world when he retired after only four-and-a-half years as Pfizer’s CEO:

“I am excited at the opportunity to recharge my batteries, spend some rare time with my family, and prepare for the next challenge in my career.” (http://pfizer.mediaroom.com/index.php?s=5149&item=20608)

The stated desire for more family time often appears in such announcements. But he went farther: “The combination of meeting the requirements of our many stakeholders around the world and the 24/7 nature of my responsibilities has made this period extremely demanding on me personally.”

I don’t know if Kindler was a good or bad CEO. But with refreshing candor, he acknowledged that the unreasonable burdens of his job were threatening some of his life’s most important moments. Like most lawyers, he has probably found that to be true for a long time.

After graduating from Harvard (a year after me), he became a staff attorney with the FCC, clerked for Judge Bazelon and Justice Brennan, and then joined Williams & Connolly where he became a partner. He left big law for a senior in-house position at General Electric and then went to McDonalds before becoming Pfizer’s general counsel in 2002. The board surprised some industry observers when it selected Kindler — a relatively new lateral hire — to be CEO “effective immediately” on July 28, 2006. (Four years later, his successor likewise assumed control quickly, too. More about that later.)

A day after Kindler’s retirement, two business school professors appearing on CNBC praised his sincerity and lamented his departure. They also bemoaned the “short-termism” of investors who may have grown impatient with Pfizer’s sluggish stock performance since its Wyeth acquisition a year ago.

Shortly thereafter, reports circulated that the Pfizer board had scheduled a special meeting — on a Sunday — to review Kindler’s future.  (http://www.bloomberg.com/news/2010-12-07/pfizer-chief-kindler-said-to-resign-after-snubbing-board-s-plan-for-deputy.html) Apparently, he preempted it.

Beyond news reports, I know nothing about Pfizer, its management or its internal politics. Kindler and I have never met, but both the progress of his career and the commentary surrounding his departure mirror what big law has become.

He advanced by moving out — bypassing the climb up one company’s internal ladder by parachuting into another. Similar lateral hiring into equity partnerships is now widespread. He continued that diagonal path to the top, but then “short-termism” emerged as his nemesis. A comparable mindset now endangers big law partners valued exclusively for their current contributions to yearly profits. Finally, when the end came, it was swift and certain.

Whether Kindler’s last act in his Pfizer career began with him or the board doesn’t matter to my Commendable Comment Award. He wins it because he wasn’t afraid to say that his job responsibilities consumed him beyond reason. Similar 24/7 burdens have taken a toll on many attorneys, especially as large firms have adopted the short-term profit-maximizing ethos of their corporate clients. Few admit to such strains, but the profession would be better if more did.

Regardless of the motivation for Kindler’s final statement, he deserves high marks for making it. Even without incorporating the background drama of a retirement, many firm managers could improve their institutions with a straightforward acknowledgement that some things aren’t easily measured, but should be treasured nonetheless.

Like the CNBC commentators, I have no reason to doubt Kindler’s sincerity. To skeptics who worry that such “soft” remarks seems disingenuous when contrasted with the hard-driving ambition that fuels any leader’s rise, I offer this: The thought is the father to the deed — and late is better than never at all.

Enjoy the holidays, Jeff.

EXPLAINING BAD BEHAVIOR

I’ve never met Steven Pesner, who lit up the legal blogosphere with his now infamous e-mail to Akin Gump’s New York office litigation billers and their secretaries. (http://abovethelaw.com/2010/11/akin-gump-partner-pens-email-fantasy-about-firing-delinquent-time-keepers/) Some say he’s typical of big law partners; others argue hopefully that he is an exception. Someone else can tackle that survey. I’m interested in what the episode reveals about the prevailing large firm business model that put him in a position to disseminate the words that now define him.

First, his fundamental point applies to almost all large firms: Get your time in because the billable hour remains big law’s cornerstone. People working for Pesner undoubtedly log lots of them; they lead to revenue — an essential prerequisite to his internal power. That’s not unique.

Second, the model has many problems, only one of which he targets: Tardy time submission. Some attorneys wait a week — or even a month — before trying to “reconstruct” their billable activities. That allows them to believe that doing their best to remember earlier tasks isn’t lying. Insofar as Pesner sought to deter creative writing at week’s or month’s end, he was protecting clients and his firm. Of course, that doesn’t justify his rhetoric. Nothing can. But his topic reveals one of many flaws infecting the billable hour regime.

Third, economic self-interest looms large. His message went exclusively to all New York litigation personnel — a point commentators have ignored. Pesner’s departmental billings may well frame a larger internal debate: His NY litigation group’s near-term economic standing. He might have been preparing to defend his memo’s recipients against annual intra- and interoffice warfare with corporate, restructuring, and transactional group leaders. Most large firm equity partners eat what they kill, along with what they successfully claim to have killed. In many firms, allocating profits often starts geographically by office practice group before proceeding to rainmakers who then decide the fate of individuals within each group.

Fourth, Pesner’s valid points morphed into a tirade that reveals pervasive equity partner hubris, especially among big law managers: He believes his own press releases.

“9. For those of you who think you are exempt from doing time sheets on a daily basis, I’d suggest that you reevaluate your importance and get ready to prove that (a) you are busier than I am on legal work, (b) you are busier than I am on client development work, (c) you are busier than I am on firm work and (d) [Redacted] and I do not have better things to do with our time than beg you to be responsible.”

The word “I” appears five times. That’s how some senior partners orient their world — around themselves. Few, if any, others compare favorably to their own idealized self-images. Their constant refrain is “today’s young people just don’t want to work as hard as I did.” But as associates, none had the challenge of a BlackBerry keeping them on-call 24/7. In fact, they didn’t even have annual minimum billable hours requirements. Their hypocrisy is stunning.

Finally, he acknowledges the life-or-death power that all senior partners wield over subordinates’ careers:

“10. Candidly, I’d put every future material violator’s name in a hat, randomly pick out a name, and publicly fire the person on the spot—to demonstrate that time sheet compliance is serious business. And incidentally, it is my understanding that the job market is not so good right now in case you did not know.”

The immediate issue was time submissions, but the underlying attitude infects working relationships throughout big law. Pesner was unique in his candor, but not in his views. Few dare to challenge such a partner in a position to make or break careers. Pesner’s threatening finale leaves no doubt in that respect:

“11. Also, please remember that I have a long and excellent memory.

If you have any questions, think long and hard before asking them—this simply is not very complicated.”

Sometimes a few words from one man are worth a thousand pictures of what too many others in his profession have become.

THANKS

Other than baseball, football, and well-tried cases, I’m not a fan of most contests. But I don’t mind this one because it suggests that my musings have struck a resonant chord.

For those who want to participate, I’ve added a link on the right sidebar of this blog. (If you aren’t already registered on the ABA site, you’ll have to do that before voting. There’s a “Register” link on the landing page. It’s easy — and you don’t have to be a lawyer. In fact, you don’t even have to like lawyers.)

Anyway, as actors often say, “Just being nominated is sufficient reward.”

Except I really mean it. Here’s the ABA’s press release:

“THE BELLY OF THE BEAST” CHOSEN AS ONE OF THE ABA JOURNAL’S BLAWG 100

(CHICAGO, IL – NOVEMBER 30) – Editors of the ABA Journal today announced they have selected “The Belly of the Beast” as one of the top 100 best law blogs by lawyers, for lawyers. 

Now readers are being asked to vote on their favorites in each of the 4th Annual Blawg 100’s 12 categories. To vote, go to

http://www.abajournal.com/blawg100/2010/imho

Voting ends at close of business on Dec. 30, 2010.

“The Belly of the Beast” is written by Steven J. Harper, adjunct professor at Northwestern University’s School of Law and Weinberg College of Arts & Sciences, author of The Partnership and other books, contributor to The American Lawyer, and recent retiree after 30 years at Kirkland & Ellis LLP.

More lawyers than ever are blogging as evidenced by the more than 3,000 legal blogs in our online directory. And they’re writing about ever more specialized niches of the profession. That’s why this year’s edition of the Blawg 100 highlights more practice specific blogs than ever before.

***

Don’t worry. I won’t let it go to my head.

COCKROACHES, MEDICINE, AND THE BILLABLE HOUR

Cockroaches should take lessons from the billable hour. Detractors notwithstanding, it has survived every economic downturn of the last 30 years including, apparently, this one. Although a recent ALM survey noted that almost 75% of client payments in 2009 were pursuant to “alternative fee arrangements,” almost 80% of those were simply discounts from attorneys’ hourly rates. (http://amlawdaily.typepad.com/amlawdaily/2010/10/billing.html)

Here’s the real problem: Whenever the regime eventually crumbles, the worst aspects of the billable hours culture will persist. Take fixed fee caps, for example. Even if they benefit some clients financially — a big “if” that’s a separate discussion — they create a Hobson’s choice for associates.

On one side is the pressure not to log all time. Keeping matters within internal budgets makes billing partners look good in their year-end reviews.

On the other side stands the billable hour as the definitive metric for measuring individual productivity. They might be working on fixed fee matters, but attorneys must still account for their time. Large firm minimum hours requirements aren’t going away.

What happens when externally fixed fees meet internal billable hours cultures? Ask your doctor.

Do you sometimes get the impression that your family physician is rushing through an appointment? That’s because the doctor is responding rationally to something called the relative value unit (RVU) — medicine’s equivalent to the billable hour.

In 1964, the AMA created reimbursement codes for the newly enacted Medicare program. Fifteen years later, a Harvard School of Public Health economist began investigating ways to compare the seemingly incomparable: the time and effort associated with doctors’ diverse tasks. The typical economist’s study sought to develop relative values for measuring productivity across a range of different activities — from well-child checkups to brain surgery.

The academic exercise remained theoretical until 1985 when Medicare expanded the inquiry: Might such a scale be used to control costs associated with spiraling “reasonable, customary and prevailing fee-for-services” payment schedules? In 1992, Congress linked the relative value unit system to the Medicare codes used for reimbursing more than 7,000 different physician tasks. Private health insurers soon adopted RVUs for reimbursement, too.

Physicians now generate RVUs to earn a living, but time becomes a critical limiting factor. For example, whether a family physician spends 10 or 30 minutes on a routine office visit, Medicare and insurance companies set physician reimbursement at the activity’s predetermined RVU value (0.7). That gets multiplied by the uniform RVU rate (about $40/RVU) for a total of $28. (The final bill exceeds $28 because practice expense and malpractice RVU-factors get added.)

Specialists’ tasks have greater RVU values than general practitioners.’ Compared to a 15-minute routine visit worth 0.7 RVU, a 30-minute colonoscopy is worth several times that. Such differences relate to physician training, skills, mental effort, judgment, stress, and other aspects of the work. But cynics note that specialists have dominated Medicare’s RVU schedule advisory boards.

Behavior has followed incentive structures:

— RVU-driven compensation differences have created shortages of family physicians.

— Specialists mean well, but they tend to view patients myopically through the prism of their expertise, rather than as entire beings. Piecemeal medicine results.

— The system encourages pills, procedures, and tests. Prescription drugs promise quick fixes that move patients out of their doctors’ offices sooner. Procedures generate high RVU values; tests requiring expensive equipment likewise reap generous reimbursement.

Meanwhile, doctors must meet minimum annual RVUs, sometimes pursuant to explicit contractual requirements. That should sound familiar to any big law associate.

As physicians ceded control of hospitals to lay managers, RVUs became a key tool by which the MBA mentality of misguided metrics overtook that profession. Don’t take my word for it. Ask your doctor — if he’ll give you the time.

What would happen if clients and the courts that approve fee petitions started “fee-capping” lawyers the way Medicare and insurance companies have sliced into doctors’ incomes since 1992? Probably unintended consequences no less dramatic than those still surprising the medical profession. Many haven’t been pretty.

Here’s the real kicker: Unlike the legal profession, most physicians have always liked their jobs.