Mac had gotten very little sleep, as he tossed and turned all night, from the strong coffee, and from his wandering thoughts of Sara. He took the subway down to Foley Square, more than a little early for his court appearance. He had tried Sara yet again, despite its obvious futility, before he left the apartment. He was upset, as she did not answer the telephone so early in the morning, confirming his suspicion that she was probably out of town, or something. But he was now focused on the matter at hand, the arguing of the motion entrusted to him by his mentor.
Mac made his way to a first-floor courtroom reserved for the hearing of motions, with the other lawyers scurrying around, despite it still being early for the start of the court day. He entered the swinging leather doors of the courtroom, checked his place on the calendar, and he sat himself down in one of the pews reserved for lawyers, outside the polished wooden rail separating the court well from those waiting their turn before the Judge. Mac glanced around the courtroom, not wanting to give away his awe from just being there to argue his first motion. There was a high, polished wooden bench in the well, where the Judge would sit in a huge, ripped leather chair. There was a matching polished wood witness box to the left of the Judge, with a jury box for 18 jurors set further to his left, past the witness box. A court reporter was already seated in a green faux leather rolling chair, in her spot below where the Judge would sit, awaiting his arrival. The lawyers on the other side of the polished wooden rail were mostly standing, talking softly to each other, some graciously, some not so. There was much movement in the well, as the court clerks were running back and forth from their mismatched side desks, handling adjournments, and otherwise preparing for the arrival of the Judge, and the call of the calendar.
Suddenly, after Mac had been sitting for a while in the pew, checking out the proceedings before him, there were three loud bangs on the wall by a door behind where the Judge would sit, causing Mac to jump a bit. The brown leather covered door opened, and a distinguished looking Judge in black robes entered the courtroom.
“All rise, order in the court; this is the Supreme Court of the State of New York, Special Term Part I of the County of New York, the Honorable Jerome R. Smith presiding,” announced the clerk, as the Judge took his seat. “All those with business before this court give your attention and listen to the call of the calendar. If you miss your turn, you will wait until second call, after all the ready cases have been handled.”
“Sit down people,” bellowed Judge Smith, “and pay attention to the call of the calendar. Those who are ready, answer ready for your side, and wait for us to call you up for argument.”
Mac noticed how intimidating the Judge appeared seated in his black robe, high above the well before him, with “In God We Trust” embossed in gold lettering over his graying head. The court clerk stood below him, at a conference table in the well, and he called out the calendar of over a hundred cases on for the day. Mac, along with his opposing counsel, answered ready, when their case was called, and they were told they would be called up to the Judge shortly.
Two hours later, Mac heard his case being called for argument before Judge Smith. They were called up to the bench before the Judge, while the court clerk continued to handle calendar matters behind them. Mac and the opposing counsel announced their appearances to the Judge, as the din in the courtroom continued unabated.
“Mr. Martin, this is your motion, I take it?” asked Judge Smith, as he flipped over the motion papers to determine which firm it was who was bringing the application.
“Yes, sir, Your Honor.”
“Tell me about it, Mr. Martin.”
“Well, Your Honor, there is no matter in controversy yet. The plaintiff is claiming that my client will be blocking their air and light rights by constructing a structure in the lot next to their building. I will not argue here today about the frivolity of their position, given that we are in New York City, and every building, including their own, blocks the air and light of all the surrounding buildings, as this matter before you is clearly premature. My client has yet to submit plans, or get permits, which precludes his breaking ground on the project, let alone blocking their air and light. This matter should be dismissed on non-justiciability grounds, until the matter is ripe for your consideration, if ever.”
“Very nice, Mr. Martin. Your first argument, I take it? Using law school terms in Special Term, I don’t hear that too often anymore. It's refreshing. Tell Mr. Dulles I said you did a good job,” he said with a laugh, after having looked again at the legal backs to see what firm it was that sent this neophyte. “What says you, Mr. Dwyer? Sounds like Mr. Martin has set forth a pretty good argument to me.”
“Well, Judge, this is an action for an injunction, seeking to prevent the defendant from building in the first place, thus blocking the air and light of our building in the process. There would be no reason to sue for an injunction once the horse got out of the barn, so to speak. If the building goes up, there would be no need for an injunction. We are seeking to avoid the problem before it arises.”
“Nice try, Mr. Dwyer. But you said it yourself, didn’t you? You are bringing this before the problem arises. Wouldn’t that make this matter pre-mature, as there is nothing to adjudicate yet? You would not have to wait until the building is completely erected before suing, now would you? Why don’t you look at the completed plans first, at the very least? This is obviously an attempt to pressure them to the table. Did you approach them before you brought this litigation?”
“No, sir. I thought this would expedite the issue for both sides.”
“Nice try, counselor. Case dismissed. Next case! Next time, Mr. Dwyer, do not come into my courtroom without trying to resolve your matter informally first, like a gentleman. You are clearly wasting this court's time, sir.”
“Thank you, Your Honor,” said Mac, as he beat Dwyer out of the well, and out of the courtroom. Once you win, you stop talking, and you look to get out as quickly as possible, Mac had been taught.
Outside the courtroom, the other lawyer asked Mac if he was authorized to discuss settlement. “Of course, you’re not,” said Mr. Dwyer, without even waiting for Mac to answer him. “Tell Dulles to give me a call.”
“I would suggest you write him a letter, setting forth your position, and asking him nicely for a meeting, like you should have done in the first place. Mr. Dulles is a very busy man,” Mac said snidely, as he turned to walk towards the courthouse exit. Dwyer was stuck in his tracks, not too pleased by the cast-off from the young, all too confident, lawyer.
A lesson learned, thought Mac as he hit Centre Street. Poor planning leads to piss poor performance, as they say. The attorney should have been a gentleman, and sought a meeting before bringing an action, and angering the people from whom he sought consideration.