Thomas Curlee, Esq.
I was sitting in the car yesterday while my wife ran into the Post Office when I found myself staring at the Ballroom Dancing of Charleston studio in the strip mall across the parking lot. It brought back a memory from a long time ago when I helped defend the owner of the Aurthur Murray Dance Studio of Columbia who was sued for bilking a poor old lady out of a sizeable chunk of her life savings.
I was a new associate at the law firm of Lourie, Draine, Curlee, and Swerling in Columbia. Thomas Curlee, a partner in the firm, had been approached about representing the owner of the studio after he’d learned the studio’s business insurance didn’t cover fraud and he’d have to hire his own lawyer to defend the lawsuit. I read the complaint alleging fraud, attached to which were copies of $38,750.00 of canceled checks. That would be equivalent to over $200,000.00 in today’s dollars. Frankly, I had little doubt of our potential client’s guilt.
I told Mr. Curlee I had trepidations about representing such a despicable scoundrel but he laughed loudly and suggested as lawyers it was our sworn duty to at least listen to his side of the story before declining a lucrative fee. The potential client was coming in later that afternoon and Mr. Curlee asked me to sit in on the meeting.
Since my opinion was already prejudiced, it’s hardly surprising my first impression upon meeting the potential client was he was slick. Slick as his black hair plastered against his head by greasy hair cream. He had a thin pencil mustache over colorless lips and his eyes darted nervously from side to side as he sat across from Mr. Curlee, half turned in the chair with his legs crossed effeminately at the knee. One hand resting in the crook of his elbow and the other floating listlessly in the air in front if his face. I couldn’t help but notice his leather shoes had the thinnest soles I’d ever seen. His too tight suit was shiny and iridescent, I think they used to call the fabric sharkskin. He frequently brought his perfectly manicured nails up to the side of his mouth when speaking, a sure sign of dishonesty. He looked too Snidley Whiplash for my liking.
Mr. Curlee quickly disposed with the preliminary questions: name, address, telephone numbers, DOB, SSN, any prior lawsuits, or criminal record, before turning to the meat of the case. Mr. Curlee politely probed, “The Complaint filed against you alleges you charged this man’s elderly mother $38,780.00 for dance lessons, is that right?” That straightened the client up in the chair. “That’s right, over the three and a half years she was a student in my studio,” he answered gruffly in a “so what” tone of voice. “Can you tell me more about that?” Mr. Curlee inquired. “Well, there was the regular studio membership that included one hour dance instruction per week for $50.00 per month but she was a natural born ballroom dancer and signed up for private lessons, two, three times a week.” “And how much did that cost?” “My fee for private lessons was $50.00 an hour,” he boasted, “It says so right in the contract she signed. And then there were the competitions.” “Competitions? I don’t understand,” Mr. Curlee probed for more information. “Ballroom dance competitions. Of course, she needed professional dancing shoes and ballroom dancing gowns to compete, then there were the travel and hotel fees, meals, entrance fees for the competitions, living expenses and, of course, my fees to be her dance partner, it’s right there in those receipts,” before adding emphatically, “I got nothing to hide.”
“Well, perhaps you can understand how her son might think $38,780.00 was a bit excessive,” Mr. Curlee questioned with a raised eyebrow. “What would he know about it? Never once came to watch his mother dance at the studio or in a competition that I can remember. I don’t think he ever visited her at the home where she was living.” He seemed personally offended and blurted out, “Let me tell you something, she loved dancing, the competitions, spending time with her friends on the circuit. Dancing was what she lived for. During the whole time she was my student, she never so much as mentioned her son.”
But Mr. Curlee cautiously noted referring to the complaint, “There’s a suggestion in here that at her age she was, let’s just say, vulnerable, in the words of the law, subject to undue influence.” This angered the client who harrumphed dismissively, “Is her dead-beat son trying to suggest I took advantage of her? She was as tough as nails. Nobody took advantage of her, no how. And, as to her being feeble, she danced as a Senior Level IV, competitive dancer in local, regional, and state competitions. Won the Rumba trophy twice and came in third in the State for her age group two years running. Vulnerable my ass.”
I have to admit, his direct answers to Mr. Curlee’s questions put a new light on the lawsuit. Who was the scoundrel? The client charging what his contract provided for dance lessons and competitions, or the son suing to stop his mother having the time of her life spending his inheritance. Was what the potential client did really any different than the dance Mr. Curless was having with the potential client as he discussed our fees? $2,500.00 up front, $250.00/hour, plus costs for the trial only, appeals would be extra. No sooner had the potential client signed the retainer agreement, than I could almost see Mr. Curlee wrap his arm around his waist, take his hand, and waltz him smoothly out of his office.
I didn’t know it yet but soon found out as an associate I would end up doing the actual dancing defending the client. I filed an answer, denying everything, and demanding trial by jury. I served and answered written discovery when, just as I was planning to schedule depositions, the mother passed away peacefully one night at her home. Her son and his lawyer quickly became more interested in marshalling the remaining assets of his mother’s substantial estate than pursuing the lawsuit against my client. I convinced his lawyer to dismiss the case which I counted as a victory in my fledgling career and I’d learned an important lesson never to prejudge a client.
As I sat in the parking lot waiting for my wife, I stared at the front door to the studio hoping to see an elderly woman leaving with a smile on her face, but I never saw one. Still, I had a smile on my face imagining my slick client and his student I never met, in the spotlight taking bows after winning third place in the State Ballroom Dance Competition so many years ago.
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