With a hat tip to Harry Nilsson, I should probably name my laptop “Shadow”. It wasn’t always like that. Here’s the story.
I was the first in-house lawyer at Prudential-Bache to have a laptop. I used it for account analysis and word processing. The first one was big and heavy. I carried a spare battery the size of a sleeve of Ritz crackers. And it was stolen. It turns out the thief was a secretary in the Law Department.
The replacement was an IBM Notepad, the grandfather of the Thinkpad. It did not have a pointing device. I had a Microsoft trackball that clamped onto the side of the keyboard area and plugged into the mouse port (remember those?). It had longer battery life and was easier to carry. No spare battery with this one. I left Prudential for Florida.
I had a couple laptops at the first law firm. I was the only one (and an associate to boot!) with a laptop and made some of the partners jealous. They didn’t have a business need, just an ego hole to fill.
When Debra and I formed the law firm, we both had laptops and our sole employee had a desktop. This is where things get interesting. We had a case that carried over from the prior firm. It was set for hearing in Nashville. What happened to our client was criminal and, eventually, the government agreed. But not by the time we tried the case.
Trying cases in Florida, but out of town, involved a box of office supplies. Paper, pens, hole punch, telephone cord to plug in to the modem port of the hotel phone, and other supplies that you would typically keep in your desk. But a case you fly to requires slimming things down. The firm had been up and running only a few months in 1999 when the case was tried. I flew to Nashville and met up with my co-counsel from the prior firm, Jason Haselkorn.
As part of my night-before routine, I was going to sketch out my opening and witness exams. I looked in my briefcase to pull out my legal pad, where I would do the sketching. There was no legal pad. Panic set in. It was late in the evening on a Sunday night (I think) in Nashville. Where was I going to get a legal pad? As I looked around my room, I saw my laptop sitting on the bed. An idea hit me.
Why not use the word processor in the laptop as my legal pad? I opened up the computer and set up a table in WordPerfect (yes, WordPerfect). I realized that I worked faster and more relaxed when I had ten fingers typing instead of two holding a writing instrument. I think I explained my predicament to the arbitrators and essentially asked permission to use the laptop. Looking at the scenario from today’s perspective, this seems comical.
I took my notes. They were much easier to read and more thorough than any notes I had taken before by hand. They made closing argument easier to organize. Thus, the laptop, which I did not name “Shadow”, became my constant companion at any proceeding where I wanted to take notes. I converted Debra to this philosophy as well. We might have a pad laying around at a hearing, but almost everything was in our computers.
Once we started using laptops in this manner, all kinds of uses popped up. We used Instant Messenger to send notes to one another (provided we had internet access of some sort). Sometimes we used IM to communicate from the hearing room to the office. I then started using PowerPoint (after the switch to MS Office). I did background research on surprise witnesses. I analyzed the opposing expert report, sometimes on the fly.
Laptops were not commonplace in hearings in the stone ages. Early on, we had to get a court order to take our laptops into the Federal Courthouse in Fort Pierce. We weren’t even allowed to sit in the lobby with them while waiting for the order. I had an arbitrator ask opposing counsel if it was OK if I used a laptop. I didn’t quite understand the issue. Opposing counsel consented.
Now, I think it is unusual for a laptop to not be present for either side. Maybe not by lead counsel, but certainly anyone supporting lead counsel. I’ve been through several laptops. Surprising even myself, I am currently using a MacBook Air, which I like because it doesn’t have a cooling fan. It has been quite reliable and, since everything is in the cloud, the changeover has been virtually seamless. The MacBook will be the subject of its own blog post in the future.
At this point, 25 years later, I can’t imagine going into a hearing without a laptop in front of me. But looking back at the first time in Nashville, I realize what a fortunate circumstance that turned out to be.