Utah Bar Journal

During my second year at the University Of Utah College Of Law, I was President of the Women's Law Caucus - a role I shared with my friend Kate Lahey who was in her third year. The Caucus was a major force at the law school, not only politically, but also socially. As members, we had mentors from the first day who became our sisters - there to help in any way. I can't imagine those stressful but happy days without my "big sisters": Pat Leith, Kate Lahey, Liz Haslam, Kathy Dryer, Judy Billings (also a Caucus President), and many others. The Caucus provided support through shared experience.

Out of law school in the real world of law firms, things were different. After the dreaded interviewing season of second year, I was fortunate to get offers from several firms, but not my first choice: Jones Waldo. I saw that firm as progressive for the times, and as a fledgling Democrat I was bedazzled by the firm's President, Don Holbrook, and the newly acquired former Governor, Cal Rampton. I felt the day of interviews went well, but the offers went to others, all male. I was devastated. I don't know how I got the nerve, but I called the head of the recruiting committee and asked what had gone wrong. He invited me in to talk with him. He showed me the rankings after the interviews and my name was at the top, but there was a question mark by my name. This kind man disclosed that "there were some questions about hiring more women." He asked if I would agree to meet with the firm's President one more time. I said "sure", but my knees were shaking when I walked in his huge and elegant office. He cleared his throat, and asked: "Are you sure you want to be a lawyer? Don't you want to raise a family?" I was single at the time, but I said I felt certain I wanted both. He looked at me for a moment, shook his head, and said in a tone I can only describe as befuddled resignation: "Alright." I got the offer from the recruiting chief on the way out.

I wasn't angry or humiliated. I didn't feel discriminated against. I was thrilled! I felt like the luckiest person in the world - that this firm would take a chance on me even though they weren't sure about hiring more women. I have thought about this strange "second interview" many times since because the firm President later became a dear friend, political ally, treasured mentor and the best litigator I ever saw in action: Don Holbrook.

I loved Jones Waldo and never regretted choosing the firm. But as I began my career there, I missed the support and camaraderie of the Women's Law Caucus. I had a sense of being left alone to navigate this tricky male bastion by myself. Jones Waldo was progressive for the day, but still decidedly male dominated and wary of what women could and should contribute to the grand practice of law. The few women in the larger firms in Salt Lake were doing family law, estate planning, and just getting in to real estate and banking law. For the most part, women were not litigators. That's what I wanted to do, and the waters looked decidedly uncharted.

Worse than the sense of being alone was the sense among my female peers that it was imperative that we just blend in, that we pretend that gender made no difference: "after all, we're all just lawyers." But the experience of young women was vastly different: the expectations and perceptions were planets apart. The social networking was particularly treacherous. Lunch, dinners, travel, drinks and golf outings with clients: how were women going to move comfortably into this world?

There were some funny but also purely unfair events, like being dropped from a big case because it required travel and the partner "didn't feel it was fair to his wife" to have me flying with him and staying in the same hotel. (Believe me, he was safe.) As I talked with friends in my firm and other firms, I realized we were all battling the same difficulties. I began to think more about the need for a Women's Law Caucus for practicing lawyers. I spoke to a few women and got mixed responses. We were all a bit lost and worried, but many felt like starting an organization would marginalize us and undermine our credibility, not add to it.

I struck gold when I spoke with Christine Durham, then a Third District Court Judge. I was in awe of Judge (and then Justice) Durham, but I knew her to be an unabashed feminist and she had credibility with no end. She felt it was important to put the idea forward and agreed to put her name on a letter inviting women lawyers to a meeting to discuss the pros and cons of a formal organization.

That first meeting could only be described as raucous. There was great division of opinion about the advisability of forming a "girls only" group. The fears were real. "The men will make fun of us." "We will set ourselves further apart." "We don't want to be women lawyers - we just want to be lawyers." I think it is fair to say that the few women who had been out there longer and were slogging along the best they could were opposed. I recall some women stood up and warned that we would make a grave mistake which would set back the cause of women in the law indefinitely. The next comment I will never forget, from a woman who had been silent: "Maybe you're all having an easy time of it in your firms, but I am not and I need a place where it is safe to talk about it." That quieted the room. What the whole discussion evidenced was the undeniable truth: our experience was unique to us as women.

Again, Justice Durham was a beacon in the darkness. She suggested trying to proceed with an organizational framework that would be a voluntary group, not a formal section of the bar, which would focus on helping us be better lawyers. That seemed palatable to most. What followed was months of debate, considerable emotion (which approached anger on occasion), and finally Women Lawyers of Utah was born. We didn't want a President, just a five-person team with staggered terms. The first Executive Committee was (now Judge) Pam Greenwood, (now Judge) Diane Wilkins, Judith Wolbach, Ellen Maycock, and myself. We met at Lamb's for breakfast and I'll never forget those meetings: we laughed, cried, schemed, and planned. It was a fantastic beginning of an era.

Women Lawyers of Utah exploded with support and enthusiasm. Our numbers grew faster than we ever could have anticipated. There was always controversy about the mission. Are we a support group? A social group? A political group? A CLE vehicle? A career placement program? The answer to all the above was "Yes."

As the years went on, WLU became a force in the Bar - a force to be reckoned with. I'll never forget the special meeting of the Bar Commission requested by WLU to address gender unfairness in firms, the courts, and the Bar itself. Over 200 women showed up. There was tension and electricity in the air and everyone in the room knew this was no tea party. All the Bar Commissioners were male except the beloved and Honorable Anne Stirba. The Commissioners were all straining to say the right thing. Don Holbrook was a commissioner, and in his sincere desire to express support, he uttered a fateful phrase: "I've always like lady lawyers." The groans and grumbling were not just audible, they created a din. He was stung by the criticism and I felt stung for him. This wonderful gentleman who could not understand why I wanted to be a lawyer, was caught between two worlds: one of which he was king and the other which he was struggling to come to grips with. "They're sure not acting like ladies" I heard him say as he walked, flushed, out of the room.

He got his chance to shine. WLU was one of the organizers of the boycott of the Alta Club in 1984 for its ban of women members. Up to that point, the Alta Club had been "the" spot for power lunches, board meetings, recruiting dinners and the like for most major businesses and law firms. Women were expected to use the side entrance, not the front door. The boycott was at its peak when I was elected to Jones Waldo's board of directors in early 1985. My elation at this unexpected honor was soon clouded with fear. Guess where the monthly board meetings were held?

I was terrified. I did not know what to do. Be a no show at my first board meeting? I decided to write a carefully worded memo to firm President Don Holbrook explaining my moral dilemma and "seeking his counsel." The next day, the nine members of the board got the same memo I did from our President: "The firm's Board of Directors will not meet at the Alta Club until further notice." I wanted to rush down the hall and hug him but I maintained my composure. I still recall the relief and gratitude ...and admiration for his courage after being treated badly by the women he now supported.

The Alta Club, under pressure from the boycott and the resulting declining revenues, held a special members meeting to vote on whether to allow women members. Of course, there were no women present, but there were plenty of male friends and supporters who gave us the following description of the meeting: all Hell broke loose. Several old timers threatened to quit, some threatened to sue, some were non-committal and others were impassioned advocates for change. I was told by more than one observer that the most articulate and inspiring vote for change was my beloved Don Holbrook, who was reported to have said: "These women are working awfully hard to be treated fairly, and I think it is high time we invited them in."

We also heard that Sam Arentz, then Alta Club President, told the membership that if women were not allowed, the declining revenues would ultimately close the club. Whatever the reason, moral or expedient, the vote was overwhelmingly in favor of change. The first four women were Genevieve Atwood, DeeDee Corradini, Annette Cumming, and myself (nominated by Don Holbrook and Cal Rampton - how could I lose?)

As an interesting side note, about a year later Hal Christensen, the legendary leader of Snow Christensen & Martineau, was nominated by President Bush (the first one) to be Deputy Attorney General under U.S. Attorney General Richard Thornburgh. Hal, a Republican, was widely respected by both parties, and was expected to be a shoe-in. Then, Senator Edward Kennedy's office got wind of the fact that Hal was a member of a private club that excluded women. At the time, this was a deal killer for such nominations. I got a call from an aide to Senator Kennedy inquiring about it. I informed him the Club had changed its policy a year earlier. The aide asked if Hal was supportive of the change. I didn't know, but said I'd try to find out. Several observers recalled Hal standing and saying it was time for the club to allow women. Whew! Hal got the job, one in which he served with great distinction.

WLU continued to be a fulcrum of activity. Though many issues were addressed, in my view the most important and recurring one was the one most fundamental: how to balance the profession with the role of mother. Most women lawyers were moms, and feeling frazzled and fearful of telling our colleagues we needed to be home. Working nine to five was manageable with help from husbands and others, but how could we expect to work evenings and weekends? We feared the "I told you so" from the men who said we could never devote ourselves to the practice of law like they could. The truth is, they were right, and thank goodness. What happened to save the day was that men started to figure out that their families and roles as fathers needed to be more of a priority to strike the right balance. New male recruits were boldly saying "I don't work weekends - weekends are for my kids." Wow! As we all evolved, women felt empowered to honestly disclose their own priorities without fear of being labeled second class lawyers. Being "married to the practice of law" used to be an honor; now it's a sign of one's need to visit a therapist.

Women and men still struggle to do it all, and most of us feel at least some of the time we are botching both jobs. Even so, we have come miles from the day when moms had to make up excuses for heading home to a child with a fever. Years ago, a former female partner of mine at Jones Waldo who had four children told me something I'll never forget. She said if you need to leave early to take care of a sick child, tell your partners you are leaving early to do something they respect: like play golf. It's still funny but still a little sad, too.

WLU has grown from its infancy through a stormy childhood, difficult adolescence, and is now in the graceful and confident time of middle age. No one questions its very reason for existence. No one questions the healthy role it plays in the lives of hundreds of women. No one questions its importance or credibility. Those things are taken for granted now. Enjoy this moment. Reflect on all the good that has come from WLU. By allowing ourselves a shared experience we have made each other better.