How did you get your first job?

Response to a Grandchild

            I got my first job a few months after my eleventh birthday. It was a newspaper route covering about 2.5 miles with 122 customers. I took the job because Dad could not work as a result of his car accident and the person who had the route was leaving for college and approached me thinking our family might need the money. We did.

           I had a $32 profit each week ($0.25 per customer). I kept $2 which was more than enough for my two brothers and I to see a doubleheader movie on Saturday. A movie ticket was ten cents; popcorn $0.05; and a coke $0.10. The $30 I gave mother I am sure was a help, although it does not sound like much. However, back then bread cost 16 cents a loaf. Milk was 94 cents a quart. A porterhouse steak cost 89 cents a pound. Gas for the car was 22 cents per gallon.

             That, however, was not the job you had in mind. Nor were the jobs I had in college – parking lot attendant, movie theater collector/usher, research assistant in the Psychology department, bartender, and encyclopedia salesman. Nor did you have in mind the jobs I had during law school – clerk in the Dean’s Office and research assistant for one of the professors. Some of those jobs came with illuminating stories which could only be endured with a drink in hand, a bottle on the table, and an exit nearby.

            In my final year of law school, I read a Time magazine article about a New York City law firm that was raising its starting salary previously at $10,000 to $15,000. I checked out the firm, Cravath, Swaine, & Moore, in Martindale-Hubbell. Founded in 1854 by William Seward, all its partners had graduated from either Columbia, Harvard, or Yale law school. It was considered the premiere law firm in the United States, or at least in the top three. A portion of its client list included Goldman Sachs, Morgan Stanley, IBM, CBS, Honeywell, Time, Chemical Bank (then the second largest bank in New York), Bethlehem Steel, Royal Dutch Shell – well, you get the picture.

          Armed with the foregoing information, I wrote a tongue-in-cheek letter to Cravath:

        “Hi there: I must have been away when your crack recruiting team visited the University of Tennessee Law School. With all that Ivy crawling the walls up there, it is little wonder you came looking for some fresh air from the south. Do not concern yourself on having missed me on your visit. When the bidding for my services commences, be assured that $15,000 will be competitive. Very truly yours,”

I never expected to hear from them, but we all enjoyed the letter at a Saturday night Beer Blast.

         Turns out I was wrong. A letter from Cravath arrived. I later discovered that its author – the only Trusts and Estate partner in the firm – was by its recruiting coordinator and by far the possessor of the best sense of humor in the firm. He wrote:

        “Dear Mr. Davis: We are in receipt of your entertaining letter. I searched our records and found we once made an offer in the late forties to a law student from Missouri Law School who turned us down. If you are first in your class and editor-in-chief of your law review, we may be interested in interviewing you. Best Regards,”

         While I was amazed that they had responded to my letter, the response raised my ire at the audacity of their apparent belief that only three schools had the talent with potential of substantial achievement as an attorney. Accordingly, I took some time and several rewrites in composing my response.

          “Dear Mr. Gillespie:

                   Thank you for your prompt response. I was taken aback by your comment regarding an offer in the past to a law student from a state law school. That comment, along with the biographies in Martindale-Hubbell of the partners in your firm, suggests that the firm is of the belief that only top graduates from three law schools have the potential to become the cream of the crop. I suspect that, had I the time, I could marshal a compelling case that top students from numerous other law schools, including state law schools, have risen to the top of the profession over the years.

               Although I meet your minimum requirements – first in my class and editor-in-chief of the law review – I predict that were you to interview the others at my school who comprise the top ten in my class you would find someone more deserving of an opportunity to learn at your firm than I. Having had exposure to the practice of law by observing my father, my uncle, and my grandfather in the courtroom and in their offices, I believe success as a lawyer requires more than the intelligence and diligence required to meet your minimum standards. It certainly also requires the ability to observe and anticipate the actions and reactions of the human race.

              I appreciate that you have taken the time to consider my silly invitation to consider me for employment. In doing so, you exhibited a kindness and open-mindedness that I did not expect when I sent the letter. I wish you and your firm only the best.

                                          Sincerely yours,”

I thought with the mailing of that letter I had reached the end of my involvement with Cravath. I was wrong.

           George Gillespie wrote back. When I met him later, I found a kind, long-suffering soul who had grown up in luxury and had a 2 handicap in golf. Only a man with his patience would have responded to my correspondence. Had anyone else at Cravath been in charge of recruiting, I would never have had a response to my first letter. George wrote:

 “Dear Sid:

              We would appreciate moving away from correspondence. The firm would like to meet you in person. We will, of course, pay for your travel to New York City and for your accommodations while here. Please provide us with a convenient date for you to meet us. We look forward to it.

                                                   Best regards,”

I was stunned. Apparently, being a wise ass was not considered fatal to the hiring process at Cravath, Swaine, & Moore.

         I quickly responded that I had already made plans to visit my mother-in-law in Westchester County for Thanksgiving. Accordingly, I requested an interview on Monday or Tuesday of that week and pointed out that they need not pay for my transportation. I also looked up two other well-known firms in New York City and wrote to see if they would interview me. They responded affirmatively so I scheduled them for the morning and afternoon following my interview with the Cravath firm.

          I had a short introductory meeting with George Gillespie in which he confirmed that I would be interested in the Litigation Department. I had no interest in corporate deals and corporate income taxes. I wanted to be in courtrooms with juries to convince and judges to irritate just short of contempt.

          I was introduced to Ralph McAfee, a tall Texan from a town of 700 people who had won scholarships to Columbia undergraduate and law schools. I was later to discover that few Cravath litigation partners had actually tried cases, but McAfee (in his mid-fifties) had been one of those few and had enjoyed great success. We started what was to become a close friendship that lasted past my leaving Cravath to his death 15-16 years later.

          The rest of the morning involved several more interviews before I was returned to Gillespie who informed me that there was someone important who wanted to meet me but was being delayed in court. They hastily arranged a lunch with three associates, one of who turned out to be David Boies. Ironically, Boies would later be a principal reason for my electing to leave Cravath.

           In any event, it turned out I was being saved for Judge Bruce Bromley, the head of litigation and, as I would later discover, widely considered to be the “Dean of Wall Street Litigation.” When I was escorted into his office, I saw this 75-year-old man with a twinkle in his eyes to which an observer was instantly drawn. We visited for around thirty minutes never once discussing the law or my ambitions. He started with a story about his love of opera, his ambition to be a singer, and his study of voice in Paris. As he told it, his lead instructor asked him at some point what did his father want him to be. He replied that his dad wanted him to be a lawyer. His instructor commented on how wise his father’s advice was. He ended our talk by standing behind his desk, lifting his arms high in the air as if her were holding a baseball bat, and asking me how Carl Yastremski of the Red Sox could be such a great hitter from such a crazy stance.

            Before I could finish a response, he stepped forward and said that he was delighted to extend an offer of employment. I thanked him for the offer and told him how much I had enjoyed meeting the people in the firm, especially himself. I said that I would let the firm know my response as soon as I had time to discuss it with my wife. When I reached the lobby of the building after the interviews, I went to a pay phone and called the other two firms to cancel my scheduled interviews. I knew where I was going to start my legal career.

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