Confessions of a Trading Post Lawyer

Several months ago one of our friends was in the trading post talking with Barry and me about our weekly stories. After a time she said, “I don’t know which of you is more . . . .” Apparently she had decided not to finish the sentence. Barry and I stood there waiting for the next shoe to drop, but it never did.

When we realized she was not going to complete the thought, we protested that she could not just leave us without an explanation. After a while she relented and said, “believable.” I readily agreed that Barry was more believable than I, since I thought it more interesting to be “unbelievable.” I’m not sure that’s what she had in mind.

One of my friends is a well respected attorney in Salt Lake City. Shortly after we met, he mentioned the early days of his legal career when he was a country lawyer in northern Idaho. Since his clients couldn’t afford to pay cash for his services, they paid in whiskey, chords of wood, beef and the like. I believe it was the whiskey that pleased him most. In any case, I think those were extremely happy times for him.

I often think of Jesse and his country lawyer stories when I am practicing law from my trading post office. I have decided that I was destined to be a trading post lawyer. When I first moved to Bluff, I refused to practice; thinking that chapter of my life had closed. Then Rose, my mother, found me a client. I reluctantly agreed to a meeting, and invited the client to visit me in my trading post office. I was sure that when he saw me sitting at my desk on a folding chair he would reconsider his decision to retain me.

Rather than being put off by the folding chair and the old desk, he readily agreed that I was the lawyer for him, and the relationship was begun. He had been brought up on the Reservation, and was accustomed to taking chances. That was over 10 years ago, and we have had many successful ventures together. He often teases me that I have made a good living while he trained me.

During my years as a trading post lawyer, I have had some truly memorable experiences. One moment I am selling a ring and the next, settling a wrongful death claim. I go from selling a business to selling pottery. The transition can sometimes be a little tricky, and would drive most people insane. In any case, I think it is unbelievable that I am fortunate enough to live in such a beautiful place and do the two things I enjoy most; working with Native American artists and practicing law.

My situation seems to be a right brain, left brain thing. The artists stimulate my creative side, and the clients challenge me to think through some complicated issues. Last year I met a psychologist who married a woman bookstore owner. At the time of their merger, he was busily engaged in a healthy practice. One day his wife convinced him to spend a little time in the store. Since he loved books anyway, he found the experience extremely enjoyable. The small bookstore grew into a bookstore, restaurant and art gallery.

We had several good laughs as he explained how he would be in the restaurant bussing tables or doing dishes because one of his employees hadn’t shown up for work that day. When his patient arrived at the appointed time, he would leave the restaurant and go upstairs for the session. When the consultation was concluded, it was back to bussing tables. I almost shouted, “Yes, I have done exactly that with our restaurant.”

We ended the conversation by concluding that such experiences made us more rounded individuals, and that our clients and patients were well served by the humility and exposure we have gained from bussing tables, washing dishes, taking food orders, selling rings and buying pottery.

After he was gone, I began wondering whether my clients might be willing to pay a little extra for my vast practical experience. Next time I see Stephen, I will ask him if his rates reflect his dishwashing skills, and I might even call Jesse to see how he was able to get paid in whiskey. After a long day conducting business and practicing law, a little nip might do me some good.

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