the truth.”
“Is that what brought you to California?”
“Yes, I figured from what I read that there’d be a lot of newly rich men and successful merchants who’d need a competent lawyer to do contracts, probate and civil litigation. I wanted to escape the stuffy, “Old Boy” dog-eat-dog East Coast lawyer cliques where you have to coddle clients, join the right clubs and be socially acceptable to get and maintain clients.”
His explanation reminded me of my former boss in Paris and why I’d agreed to come to California to escape a similar legal environment. “Like your father’s practice?”
“Yes,” he sighed. “But I didn’t realize what a challenge San Francisco would be. Most of the legal work is defending criminals and con-men and most merchants do their own contracting and can’t afford to play Russian roulette with the notoriously unreliable and unpredictable court system. In Connecticut, you can move your case before an experienced judge of your choice and challenge a biased or self-interested judge, but not here.”
I explained my arrangement with the French Consulate to locate and deliver mail to French miners in the placers as I did recently to camps in the north along the forks of the Yuba River and my planned trip to the southern mines with my new assistant, Gino Lamberti. I outlined my business plan that included detective services to find missing persons, notarization and translation of legal documents from French to English for use in contracts, litigation, immigration, citizenship, inheritance, and dissolution of marriage cases. “When matters are contested or need legal intervention, I will need an American lawyer to assist me. Would association in these enterprises interest you?”
“Of course, I like the variety of situations you will be handling. I like new challenges,” he said without hesitation,
“Good. How’s your French?”
He choked briefly before muttering, “Well, ugh, of course I studied French in high school, but that was a long time ago and I’ve had no occasion to speak it. Is that going to be a problem?” He said nervously. It was apparent he wanted the work and it was time to set the terms of any association. “What do you usually charge clients? Do you work by the hour or the job?”
He hesitated before answering. “That depends on the case and the amount of time it will take. Like all practitioners, I request a retainer from new clients which guarantees at least partial payment. Once you commit to litigation, it’s not easy to withdraw even if you’re not being paid.”
I understood the desired retainer system where the client pays up front to secure the lawyer’s services and a commitment to handle the client’s legal needs. My boss in Paris worked that way. He paid me only a fraction of the hourly rate he demanded in his retainer to do his legal work. He was free to glad-hand, hobnob and dine with his clients and woo his mistress while I did the grunt work and ran his practice.
“I’m afraid I’m not in a position to pay retainers on cases. Like you, I’m trying to build a new practice from the ground up. What I have in mind is for us to work as associates or partners. We each record our time on the cases we work together and when we’re paid, we divide the proceeds proportionally based on the time each has put into the case.”
“As equals?” He squinted, giving me a dubious look.
“Yes. I worked as the chief clerk for a prominent notaire in Paris for several years. I prepared all the contracts for marriage, drafted all the property conveyances and petitions for succession by heirs in probate matters and a host of other civil matters. A French notary acts like your civil attorney in America. The only difference is he doesn’t litigate cases. If necessary, the notaire associates an avocat to try the matter before a magistrate. That’s the relationship I’m proposing for us.”
I paused in my spiel to gauge his reaction. While he sought to mask his reaction to my proposal, the uncontrolled bobbing of his Adam’s apple betrayed his unease.
“Let me give you an example how such an association would work. My wife’s business partner, Giselle, decided not to return to France with her husband after his wine business burned in the May 3rd fire. I negotiated the terms of their separation and grounds for divorce. I prepared notarized declarations in English and French for submission to American and French courts. I persuaded the husband to declare he was abandoning his wife in California to facilitate her divorce here and gave him her notarized statement that she had refused him her bed because she no longer wanted kids. Thus, he would have grounds for a Church annulment of the marriage and be able to remarry if he chose.” I paused to let him grasp my ability to negotiate a settlement between warring parties.
He nodded his acquiescence and I continued. “As you can see, I have laid the groundwork for you to prepare a petition for an uncontested divorce here and to obtain a divorce decree. I will be paid for my time settling the case at the rate of $16 an hour and you will be paid the same amount for your time in preparing the petition and the court appearance before the court. The same is true for the time it takes to execute the attachment order on the shipment of Chilean wine in the other matter I mentioned.”
I watched him suck in his breath while he pondered my offer. I knew from Consul Dillon that he had demanded $25.00 an hour but settled for $20.00 in the hope of repeat business. As my rate was $16.00 an hour I was insisting on parity for payment of our work together. I hadn’t charged either of Manon’s partners for my legal work but that was my business. “Well?” I asked to force a response.
“I suppose I could do it for $16.00 an hour. I’m used to a much higher rate but I have the time,” he said reluctantly.
“Good. Let’s do these two cases together on a trial basis. If we’re both satisfied with the arrangement then we can tackle new ventures together. My wife runs a French food business on the long wharf where our brig, “The Eliza,” is docked. Why don’t you join us for dinner one evening this week. You’ll be able to meet both your new clients and enjoy a meal with us.”
The prospect of a home cooked meal and a chance to socialize with two new single women clients brought a smile to his previously dour visage. We shook hands on our agreement and made a date for dinner.
California Gold Rush Journal
CHAPTER FOUR
San Francisco — July 1851
I made my way up Commercial Street to check my bank balance with Adams Express Co. and then moseyed up to Dupont Street to take a coffee and hear the latest gossip from Pierre-Louis at his restaurant before checking on my partnership to fabricate and sell Bear’s Grease Pomade. All the morning newspapers screamed headlines about the James Stuart affair. As usual, Pierre-Louis waited for a lull in business so he could join me for coffee and shoot the breeze.
“So my friend, any success in partnering with a local lawyer?” Pierre-Louis said as he served me a dark coffee and poured water into his glass of anise-flavored drink.
I chuckled. “I think I hooked one despite his grumbling at working for my hourly rate and condescending to share fees with a lowly clerc de notaire. I hope he he’s not like my former boss who let me do all the work and
