Yes, mixed metaphors can be a downer, but how else to express the silence of America’s Prophetic Voice, Jimmy Carter, regarding the other “apartheid fences”? As Soccer Dad points, out, whether in Belfast, Arabia, “and now, in Brazil,” they all keep out the unwanted, and are quietly ignored after initial bursts of interest by the perpetually brokenhearted protectors of justice. And there is no keening, Jew-obsessed hypocrite like Carter, is there? Is he heading down to Brazil?
God, yes, please. Maybe he can be Rio’s Rachel Corrie?
“Bad, bad man,” as Ed Koch said about the wrong person; and this Carter has a lot of bad, bad accomplices — mainly with press passes and, of course, diplomatic license plates.
UPDATE: Then there’s those who imagine a fence where there isn’t one at all.
WHILE PEOPLE DISS WALL STREETERS AND INDUSTRIALISTS FOR GREED AND HIGH LIVING, note that the most expensive home in America was built by a TV producer.
Yeah, but it was the bailouts, and the would-be bailouts, that made it officially cool to hate Wall Street, though, Glenn. And I’m not so sure I have a problem with that coolness.
There’s always plenty of envy to go around, but as much as there is to despise about Hollywood, including its institutional pipeline to the Democratic Party, and as much as Hollywood gets what it wants from Congress on things like copyright law, I don’t think I’ve seen anyone “taking lunch” on Capitol Hill asking for cash bailouts of “the industry.”
Mar 26, 2009 Heart and spirit
My mentors… they’re leaving me all by myself. Less than two years ago it was Mr. Lowenstein, not quite a mentor for he was already semi-retired when I joined his firm, and not an active litigator. But I knew him, and he gave me warm encouragement and inspiration.
Now I’ve learned that earlier this month, his former partner, and one of the “names” at the old Lowenstein Sandler Kohl Fisher & Boylan, passed on. Now this was a mentor, and of course not only to me, though, like all my mentors, not long enough; but he always remained a friend. I could always count on his warm greeting on those increasingly rare visits to the old place; he might send a book that someone had sent him, with a handwritten note, though, saying why he thought it was for me.
I phoned Matty, and only one other older lawyer besides him, shortly after I started my own practice and was threatened by a punk associate at Fox Rothschild with being personally sued — sued! — because of my aggressive work on a case which demolished his preposterous, junky claims against my client. (This lad, who once reported to me at yet another former firm, was canned shortly thereafter and is now evidently off the grid.) I knew that Matty was among the few who could tell me how I should handle it.
Read a minute. The real story is the third paragraph, but to understand its significance you must read the first two. Please, take a moment:
Mr. Boylan, or “Matty” as he was known to his contemporaries, joined the firm in 1969, when its offices were at 744 Broad Street in Newark. During his near 40-year career with Lowenstein Sandler, he was one of the driving forces of its growth into one of the largest and most respected law firms in the state. Mr. Boylan was on everyone’s short list of trial lawyers, sought after by the government, major corporations and individuals to handle their most important criminal and civil cases. His command of the facts and law, and quick wit, always served his clients well, whether he was appearing before a judge, jury or administrative agency. His clients at the firm included Fortune 500 companies in the pharmaceutical, chemical and communications industries, and also small shop owners and individuals faced with some injustice, whom he always found time to represent without expectation of payment.
Before joining Lowenstein Sandler, Mr. Boylan served as an Assistant United States Attorney, receiving a special commendation from then-Attorney General Robert Kennedy for the first successful prosecution of a high-ranking official of the International Brotherhood of Teamsters. In 1969, Mr. Boylan was appointed Special Prosecutor for murder trials in Passaic County, and in 1972 he was appointed by New Jersey Attorney General George Kugler, on the recommendation of Chief Justice Weintraub of the NJ Supreme Court, to prosecute a sitting State Cabinet officer. Mr. Boylan served as Director of the Division of Criminal Justice of the State of New Jersey during 1974 and 1975. After his return to Lowenstein Sandler, he was appointed to defend an accused Russian spy in a criminal trial in the United States District Court. Mr. Boylan was also a founding member of the New Jersey Trial Attorney Certification Board (1980 to 1984) and was elected a Fellow of both the American College of Trial Lawyers (1985) and the American Bar Foundation (1992). . . .
A generous colleague and friend, Mr. Boylan always made time to help other lawyers at the firm with whatever legal issue was troubling them. He was especially known for his mentorship of young litigators, whom he helped nurture by involving them in high-profile cases that would provide them an early opportunity to demonstrate their talents and make a name for themselves in the wider legal community. Mr. Boylan’s interest in others extended to secretaries and other staff; he rarely walked down the hall without stopping to inquire about the health of a family member who might be under the weather, or to exclaim about the latest baby photo. Moreover, he could be counted on to arrive with pizzas when others were working late, or when the press of work made them miss lunch. The Irish soda bread he always brought in for Saint Patrick’s Day was also a great hit.
Matty loved his people. As I remember it, he was a good Catholic, too. He really had a heart as big as all outdoors, where he should have brought those honking big stogies, too, but seeing as he was Matt Boylan what could you say?
There’s hardly room for real characters like Matt Boylan in the upper echelons of corporate law any more.
SHOULD THE PRESIDENT BE working harder? I think he should take as much time off as he wants.
I agree with Glenn Reynolds. I have always found this petulant nonsense about how many vacations or much vacation the President takes — a favorite of BDS victims — really annoying. He’s the chief executive.
We’re not looking for another Jimmy Carter, up all night distributing the White House tennis court slots. Or anything for that matter. After all, the President’s already turning grey from the stress!
This book, based soundly in empirical research, delivers the hard message that true excellence depends upon hours and hours (10,000 hours, to be precise) of “deliberate practice”—be it the young Mozart composing, the young Tiger Woods practicing, or any aspiring concert violinist. The same, by extension, is true of surgeons, mathematicians, CFO’s—and lawyers and writers. As Colvin puts it, this is good news and bad news:
“What would cause you to do the enormous work necessary to be a top-performing CEO, Wall Street trader, jazz, pianist, courtroom lawyer, or anything else? Would anything? The answer depends on your answers to two basic questions: What do you really want? And what do you really believe? [Knowing w]hat you want — really want — is fundamental because deliberate practice is a heavy investment.”
Talent is not just overrated. It can actually be the single biggest factor militating against achieving excellence there is.
From what I hear.
Our society worships talent, and many people assume that possessing superior intelligence or ability—along with confidence in that ability—is a recipe for success. In fact, however, more than 30 years of scientific investigation suggests that an overemphasis on intellect or talent leaves people vulnerable to failure, fearful of challenges and unwilling to remedy their shortcomings.
We all know these types, don’t we? Bright, bitter bums.
Now, ultimately people are not merely clay in the hands of their environments and genes — they do make choices. But for much of their early lives, they don’t. Making good choices later in life can be a challenge when the wrong ones are made for you early on.