Another shitlaw legend was the infamous Gary Tsirelmen, king of NY No-Fault practice. Gary was an MD who went to law school later in life, as he probably got tired of referring his cases to other shitlawyers for a kickback when he could snooze thru a gutter TTT, take the bar, and start hogging it all for himself.
He was a real character and used to ride a little Vespa scooter to court. He wore one of those turtle-shell helmets from WWII, & didn't take it off until he got into the courtroom. He got in some deep shit a while back:http://nycoveragecounsel.blogspot.com/2 ... on-of.html
Gary's problem is that besides being a crook, he was just a major league asshole. If you had a motion against him he'd come up to you and put his hand on your shoulder and say "You're going to lose this motion- let me tell you why." His breath smelt like a hot dumpster too. He also never gave adjournments or extensions, or any courtesy whatsoever. Everyone was thrilled when he finally got "de-medicalized" or whatever you call it when a doctor is thrown out of practice.
I forgot to mention that Civil Kings in Brooklyn is perhaps the filthiest, most decrepit courthouse in America. It's a virtual beehive of shitlaw: this is where landlord/tenant cases are heard, as well as small claims, collections, and no-fault auto cases. Half the litigants there are crackheads who haven't bathed in weeks, and you have to "run the gauntlet" thru the hallways b/c if you have a suit on, all the landlord/tenant deadbeats beg you for free advice and like grab hold of your sleeves and shit. Once I was sitting on the bench nursing a hangover & this old lady kept telling me how much she liked me necktie, and how her son needed a suit for job interviews, so I took it off and gave it to her. It was from Century 21 anyway so no biggie.
The only good part about No-Fault was John, the calendar clerk. He was a semi-retired court officer with a huge mustache and an old-school NY attitude, kinda looked like Dennis Franz from NYPD Blue. Rather than a holster, he kept a huge .357 magnum tucked in the waistband of his trousers. It was all rusty from where his ass like sweated against it. Understand that this "courtroom" is kinda similar to a YMCA locker room: the half-drunk, hungover shitlawyers are washing up in the water fountain, putting on deodorant in the hallway, cleaning puke off their ties/shoes, etc. It's very loud because everyone is basically an asshole and it's so crowded you have to scream the name of your case to find your adversary. John didn't take a lot of shit, so when it got REALLY loud he's bang a stapler inside a metal trash can and say "next motherfucker who opens his mouth is getting a night in jail." I encourage all Brooklyn 0 L's to go check out King's Civil first thing Monday morning- it's at 141 Livingston Street a couple blocks from the school. 'Bozo and NYLS losers should get the "10 cent tour" as well. Hell, I'll lead it. It could be like those "scared straight" programs where teenagers visit Rikers to get on the beam.
It's kinda what you always pictured courtrooms in Rwanada are probably like. There's also a set of fire stairs next to the bathroom that have an outdoor landing where everyone smokes. You could get cancer just standing out there for a few minutes. The bench where the judge is supposed to sit is covered with 88,000 tons of cut n' pasted shitmotions and old milk crates, etc, so he/she sits in a little card table in an alcove in the back. The "courtroom" proper would be too loud to do business in anyway, since everyone is "negotiating" their cases while waiting to get called back to argue these turds.
Sadly, John the calendar clerk did get eventually get throat cancer. Each week his voice got raspier and raspier, and he was hocking up blood while out smoking with the gang. He never said anything, but we all knew what was up. He hung on as calendar clerk until all he could do was rasp and pound his fist on the table, and smash his stapler when he got pissed, which was pretty much all the time. He finally died and went to that big shit-court in the sky. RIP John. (He always got a kick out of all my bitching, and once told a gang of shitlawyers that if we ever form a union, I should be shop steward). I believe he smoked Winstons.
Another funny guy in King's Civil is on the 3rd floor, which is the trial selection part. I don't know what his title is, but he calls calendar every day. He's apparently a stroke victim and slurs his speech like an old drunk, which isn't helpful when you're trying to listen for your shitcase (there's only about 350 cases a day in this part). He's like "thurst thase isth Shara Thodthriguez," you know, all unintelligible and shit. I called him "Mumbles McGee." He smells like cat litter.
There's also a flagrantly gay judge who I won't name that's pretty hilarious. When you argue your losing cut n' paste shit-motion in front of him he gets all fruity and says "Counsellor, this is a beautiful argument but my hands are tied- there's nothing little ole' judge X can do. I have to answer to that big old appellate division." While he says this he gets all limp-wristed and emotional like Richard Simmons when some old lardass tells him she dropped 300 lbs.