Gerard J. St. John: Pigpen and the Philadelphia Lawyer
In the late 1960s, the conventional wisdom in the legal world was that a young lawyer could get practical trial experience by handling cases with relatively small amounts in controversy – cases like those the Philadelphia courts automatically assigned to compulsory arbitration before panels of three lawyers.
In those days, that meant cases with a verdict potential of $3,000 or less. The arbitrators were paid about $100 each to decide a block of three cases. The chairman of the panel received a slightly larger amount because the chairman had the responsibility to arrange for a hearing room, to schedule the hearings, and to file the awards.
As a general matter, the arbitration panels were comprised of three main interest groups: (1) lawyers specializing in plaintiffs’ personal injury cases; (2) lawyers specializing in insurance defense cases; and (3) senior lawyers who were retired or close to retirement and who were satisfied with a short stress-free task and the relatively small compensation. In the late 1960s and early 1970s, I fell into the category of a novice trying to gain trial experience by handling small cases, particularly on the defense side of the issue.
Major Philadelphia law firms did not particularly favor the handling of small cases. Management wanted young lawyers to spend virtually all their time working on menial tasks in large cases, where major clients would pay major dollars for every minute of that time. Small cases generated little revenue. On the other hand, the small case client viewed his case as being just as important as the matters the firm was handling for corporate giants
One small insurance company regularly assigned the defense of its claims to our law firm. Corporate counsel for that insurance company was Warner Earnshaw, who – much to his chagrin – was commonly known as “the brother of George Earnshaw,” a World Series pitcher for Connie Mack’s Philadelphia Athletics back in the 1930s. Warner did not expect a senior partner personally to handle his cases, but he did expect those cases to be handled competently, regardless of who conducted the trial. That expectation persisted even when the case involved a rear-end automobile accident and our client was the hittor and not the hittee.
In one case, the evidence clearly showed that the damage to our insured’s vehicle was in the front, and the damage to the plaintiff’s car was at the rear bumper, smack in the middle. Fortunately for our client, a police accident investigation report stated that a Philadelphia street sweeper saw the accident and said that the plaintiff’s car turned right onto Fitzwater Street, suddenly stopped, and abruptly backed into my client’s vehicle, which had come to a stop at the intersection. The police report also said that the two occupants of the car – the plaintiffs in this case – were a mother and daughter who were spending the day making arrangements for the daughter’s wedding. Thus, the facts supported the theory that the two women were so preoccupied with their shopping spree that they failed to notice they had turned the wrong way into a one-way street. The street sweeper’s testimony made sense, but whose version of the facts would the arbitrators believe?
I advised the chairman of the arbitration panel that he could hold the hearing in one of my firm’s conference rooms at 2:00 p.m. in the afternoon. Immediately after the arbitration was scheduled, I received a notice for a deposition in one of my major cases. The deposition was scheduled for 10:00 a.m. on the same day as the arbitration hearing. The deposition was expected to be short. I thought that I could handle both events the same afternoon, without asking for a postponement. I subpoenaed the street sweeper to come to my office at 1:00 p.m., leaving me an hour to prepare him to testify.
It was close. The deposition went longer than expected but I was back in the Packard Building by about 1:15 p.m. The receptionist smiled when she told me that a gentleman was waiting for me in my office. Gary Wynkoop was standing near the receptionist, but he was not smiling – Gary was laughing.
Gary seemed to thrive on the competition for advancement among the associates within the law firm. He particularly seemed to enjoy it when I was faced with a difficult situation. “I thought it would be best if your witness waited for you in your office, rather than the lobby area,” he said as he followed me down the hall.
When I opened the office door, I was surprised that the lights were out. Then I heard the faint snoring. My witness was sound asleep. He was a short, slender man in his mid forties. He was wearing work clothes that were covered with a layer of dust. He was also very intoxicated.
In those days, the popular comic strip “Peanuts” often featured an unkempt character named “Pigpen,” who gave off a small puff of dust every time he moved an arm or a leg. This mild-mannered little man with the whiskey smile reminded me very much of Pigpen. In another thirty minutes, Pigpen would be the key witness for my defense case. No wonder Gary Wynkoop was laughing.
As the lawyers and witnesses were entering the arbitration hearing room, I called aside the chairman of the arbitration panel and the lawyer who represented the plaintiffs. I told them that I had subpoenaed an independent witness over whom I had no control, and I was worried about how he might conduct himself if he had to sit through a long drawn-out hearing before it was his turn to testify. I suggested that we modify the usual procedure and allow the street sweeper to be the first witness, after which he would be free to leave and we could continue the hearing in the normal course. The chairman and the plaintiffs’ lawyer glanced across the room at Pigpen, and quickly agreed to the suggestion.
All three members of the arbitration panel were senior in age. They were hoping for a quick hearing so they could catch an early train home. The mother and daughter plaintiffs were accompanied by the father. All of them were dressed in their Sunday finest. The driver of my client’s vehicle also wore a coat and tie. The chairman motioned to Pigpen to come to the head of the table and sit next to the panel. After administering an oath and identifying the witness, the chairman signaled to me to proceed.
I began in a routine manner,
“Mr. witness, do you recall an automobile accident that occurred at 16th and Fitzwater Streets, on May 7th, three years ago?”
The response was, “Sheee—it, do I!”
I tried not to smile. Over the next five minutes, Pigpen described the accident in very colorful language. When he finished his description, no one dared to ask him any more questions. “If there are no more questions,” intoned the chairman, “the witness is excused.” Turning to Pigpen, the chairman added, “Mr. witness, you may leave now.” “Do I have to?” Pigpen asked. The chairman hesitated and then said, “No, this is a public proceeding. You can stay if you want to.” And so, he stayed.
When the mother moved to the head of the table to testify, Pigpen sat in the chair she vacated – right next to the father. When the mother testified about the accident, Pigpen laughed and slapped the father on the back, saying, “Y’hear her? Y’hear what she said?” So it went for the next hour. It was a show within a show.
To make matters even better, the panel’s award was in favor of my client.
It is hard to say what it is that prompts a jury or an arbitration panel to rule in favor of one party and against another. I am convinced that one critical aspect of the situation is effective communication. In the case just described, Pigpen was certainly not a communications expert, but his sincerity and humor were pervasive. Moreover, he had no monetary interest in the outcome of the case. He was like Jiminy Cricket — a common-sense conscience that appealed to the arbitrators. The arbitrators believed him.
Good grief!!
Gerry St. John is a retired lawyer who lives in the suburbs of Philadelphia. He was graduated from St. Joseph’s College and Temple University School of Law. Between these educational endeavors, he spent nearly four years in the United States Marine Corps, most of it in Camp Pendleton, California, and in the Far East during the Cuban Missile Crisis. For more than 45 years was a civil trial lawyer, and for nine years a member of the adjunct faculty at Saint Joseph’s University.
