More Reflections on Mortality

My friend John called the office yesterday, to resolve a case with Stuart. John's a plaintiff's lawyer, but has been taking on uninsured doctors as clients as well. John used to be a young partner of THE MAN in Miami PI law -- someone named JB Spence.

JB died recently, and John attended his funeral. JB's partner Buddy Payne died within days of JB, but his funeral was in Tampa. John was surprised how few folks attended the funeral --maybe 50. We talked about why this was, and concluded that JB was so old, probably most of his contemporaries were already gone, and besides, who truly cares about the life of a lawyer (other than maybe Atticus Finch, and he's fictional).

JB was the first to get huge verdicts. I attended a seminar he gave once, on business development, and he gave me sage advice. The advice was that EVERYONE he met, from gas station attendants (I told you he was old) to dry cleaners, got a business card, and the reminder that he was a lawyer, and should be called for any legal advice.

I did this religiously over the years, and got several multi million dollar cases from friends of friends of friends of friends. Thanks, JB.

When JB and Buddy got older, they went through the cliched problems of white guys with too much money. JB smacked a much younger wife around, and got arrested. Buddy had a Latin mistress, and, when he told her things were over with them, she shot him in the cojones. This latter event turned out less than funny, as she aimed a bit too high, and Buddy nearly died in the hospital.

JB practiced until the end. He hooked up with some guys who had bought the right to use Johnny Cochran's name posthumously, as if old Johnny still ran cases. The firm is actually named for this long dead OJ lawyer. The manager of the firm, who is, like me a white Jewish guy from Long Island, and neither dead, nor black, like Johnny, took JB in and gave him an office.

Talk about marketing! The guy, whose name is Scott, traded off a dead black lawyer and an ancient white one. Ah, the dignity of my profession...

Speaking of dignity...my mentor Ed Perse had it in spades. His funeral was packed to overflowing, back in '94. But the Herald's obit was about 5 lines, as I recall.

So much for immortality for the lawyers --I guess unless you're a Ponzi schemer like Scott Rothstein. When that guy goes, either naturally or through a hit, it'll be front page news.

Ancient Mom called at 3 this am. I'm visiting her later, and she was confused --I was due there at noon, and was 3 hours late, in her senile mind.

Mom's friends are mostly gone, too. She was never famous like JB Spence, and wants NO funeral --just her ashes spread in the Atlantic, like my father's were in 1982.

In the end, of course, we all end up dead. Even the big shots. If you live too long, the funerals are sparsely attended.