Your Dress Would Look Better On Me

Weekend Getaway (first draft)

2009-07-10T22:40:00.000-07:00

MY GRANDPA'S HOUSE WAS CUSTOM BUILT in the 1960s in the north woods of Minnesota along the banks of the Big Fork River. I am told there used to be more yard on the southern side of the house, but years of erosion down to the river have left only a strip of land before the rugged, steep bank begins. The house is in the middle of the woods on my grandpa's tree farm. So secluded, in fact, that there have never been curtains over the windows -- none that I can remember there being, anyway. My grandpa loved the wilderness and so never shut it out, I guess. His custom house features floor to ceiling windows all around the living room, which sticks out toward the river, and so the windows are featured on all four walls.

The house is empty now, save for when extended family members use it as a luxurious getaway at times throughout the year. When I arrived for a weekend of solitude in late September, I was surprised to drive down the miles long, winding driveway through a few feet of snow. It was still hot in The Cities, as they call it, if you found a spot to get out of the wind. It was a nice combination, the snow and the warm sun.

When I entered the house, things needed to be taken care of -- turn on the water, turn on the heat. I walked around the living room; not as big as it had seemed when I was a toddler, but still spacious. There were flies lying in the bottoms of the window frames -- hundreds of flies. I made plans to vacuum them up after I unpacked my things. Turns out that wasn't such a good idea. As the house warmed, the flies slowly began to come out of their state of suspended animation. Everything seemed especially quiet, as it tends to be when there's snow on the ground, and me padding around in socks on cushiony berber carpet. All that was left to hear were these flies beginning to buzz, a growing buzz, interrupted only by their clumsy knocks against the giant picture windows. I vacuumed them up alive, as fast as I could, and dropped them out in the snow.

I ended up walking around a bit. There are a few old shacks out in the surrounding woods, one or two closer to the house than others. My grandpa would let travelers stay in them -- they'd be men in need of work, so my grandpa would offer them work in the pole yard, or in the forest chopping trees.

After clearing my head of the eight hour drive and all the work of unpacking and vacuuming, I realized I should get back to the house. Being alone in the woods was suddenly a little bit scary -- the wildlife has probably gotten used to there not being any human activity. I didn't want to startle anything that may have started visiting a little closer to the house than usual. There was no cell phone service out here, so I couldn't call for help if I needed it. Also, it was dusk. And I was getting hungry.

I opened a can of ravioli and heated it on the stovetop, put on my pajamas, and settled in for the evening. It's strange how the woods change when it gets dark and there are no curtains to pull over the windows. I kept from stirring myself into a scared little ball by reading and doing a few easy crossword puzzles. I came up here with the intention to write without the distraction of an internet connection or television, but I'd get a fresh start on that in the morning. My long day had caught just caught up with me. I had just enough energy to brush my teeth before going to sleep. Instead of sleeping in the bedroom, I brought my sleeping bag and pillow and just set up camp on the couch in the living room.

It was so quiet and so dark. There was only the tiniest sliver of a moon. I lied on the couch, paranoid that maybe I hadn't turned off the stove. Or locked the door. Had I remembered to shut the trunk of my car? My mind whirred from being groggy and into a frenzy of what-ifs. If I had, in fact, left my trunk open, my battery would surely be dead by now. I wouldn't get any writing done because I'd have to take an hour and walk into town to find one of my aunts or uncles to come give me a jump. Ugh, it was going to be quite a day tomorrow.

I finally succumbed to these restless thoughts, even though I knew better, and did one final check of these things before returning to the couch. Sure enough, everything was closed, turned off, and locked. Now I was wide awake again. Then I remembered one of my favorite things to do when I'm up here -- look up at the night sky. This far north, especially on a chilly night, the sky is so crisp that looking at it long enough, it's easy to make out seemingly the furthest clusters of stars. I decided I would look until I saw a shooting star, and then I would go back to bed.

It didn't take long before a brilliant white speck streaked across the sky, like someone briefly scratched a needle across a soft, dark, self-healing surface. Now that my eyes had adjusted to the dark, I looked down at the treeline to see if there were any deer walking out in the open. I didn't see any animals while scanning the line where the yard area meets the heavy treeline. There was a telephone pole at the midpoint, with an electrical box, and the wires ran from it to the house. On that box was a light. I stared at the light for a moment and thought my eyes were playing tricks on me when I saw it glow brighter for a moment before softening again. My heartbeat got loud in my ears and my entire body became prickly and hot. I imagined my eyes having no color to them, as my pupils dilated to try and see -- to try and confirm -- it was only an indicator light on the electrical box. I tried to be as still as I could, but it was difficult. My pounding pulse bobbed my body against the window.

I stared until my eyes felt dry. I didn't want to blink. I wanted to make sure that the light did not move. But it moved, ever so slightly, and glowed brighter -- someone was taking a long drag off a cigarette. I could see it now -- the person's breath in the cool air, the smoke being exhaled. I couldn't move. The pouding in my ears was all I could hear, and it took all of my strength not to blink.

Big and F.A.S.T.: The Making of A Documentary

2009-07-10T18:47:00.000-07:00

I LIKE MY DOCUMENTARIES how I like my roadside attractions: big and F.A.S.T.

Ever since my Route 66 road trip experience when I was 13, I've had a constant itch to get on the road and explore new places. Part of the experience of traveling via motor vehicle is seeing sights along the way, of course, but in particular, those giant oddities. The giant ear of corn. The giant walleye. The Jolly Green Giant.

Where did those things come from? Who the heck thought it'd be a good idea to get them? and who in the world can you contact to make such oversized novelties?

It was time I found out.

So I started a summertime project of making a documentary about the giant objects that towns have adopted. Max "Bunny" Sparber and I will travel the mid-west, seek out these beacons, and talk to the people who know the history of them, including the whys, the wheres, and the whos. And, of course, the how.

Check back for updates!

WHERE WE'VE BEEN:
- Sparta, Wisconsin
We met with veteran sculpture carver Jerry Vettrus of Fiberglass Animals Statues and Trademarks (F.A.S.T. Corp.)
We also got footage of the giant Ben Bikin

- Omaha, Nebraska
Filmed the very yellow Mr. Speedy.

WHERE WE ARE GOING:
This month (July) we are traveling to Blackduck, MN to speak with the kind folks there about the history of their two big, black ducks. Hopefully we'll even get to speak with the mayor.

August: Hayward, Wisconsin to visit the home of the Fishing Hall of Fame Museum, which is inside the world's largest muskie sculpture.

We are planning trips to:
- Blue Earth, MN, the Jolly Green Giant
- Lakeville, MN, Hot Sam's Antiques
- Omaha, NE, Mr. Speedy
- Sparta, WI to interview some residents

Future destinations TBD

OUR EQUIPMENT:
One '94 Saturn
Kodak Zi6

Jump! for Oscar Mayer

2009-07-08T20:45:00.000-07:00

Taken on July 19, 2006

OSCAR MAYER DIED TODAY at the age of 95. It must have been nice knowing that any time someone spelled your name, they'd end up singing it, too.

The obituary from the AP reads as follows:

MADISON, Wis. (AP) — Oscar G. Mayer, retired chairman of the Wisconsin-based meat processing company that bears his name, died Monday. He was 95.

Mayer died of old age at Hospice Care in Fitchburg, said his wife, Geraldine.

He was the third Oscar Mayer in the family that founded Oscar Mayer Foods, which was once the largest private employer in Madison. His grandfather, Oscar F. Mayer, died in 1955 and his father, Oscar G. Mayer Sr., died in 1965.

Mayer retired as chairman of the board in 1977 at age 62 soon after the company recorded its first $1 billion year. The company was later sold to General Foods and is now a business unit of Kraft.

My First Job: If You're Not Careful This Tomato Will Take You For A Ride

2009-07-05T15:48:00.000-07:00

PROHIBITION BEGAN IN 1920 and ended in 1933. It was a real exciting time and I wanted in on it. I didn't get into running hootch right away though. I wanted to do it right, so I observed from afar the comings and goings of the operations out of the Wabasha Street Caves in St. Paul, Minnesota. As you can see, I had an in; my parents were proud to show me the ropes.

Once everyone was confident of my skills, I worked as playing an innocent. It was my job to spot the suspicious hangers who would stumble around the caves every so often and make them scram.

I'd do whatever was necessary -- I'd cry out for help and they'd follow me as I ran away, or lure them away by flashing my stockings and giving my patented come-hither look. This is how I got my nickname Batsy. I'd either bat my eyelashes or swoop in and out of a situation so fast people didn't know what had got their hair in a mess.

I'd give them the impression the bank was open, see?

In either situation, they didn't come around anymore. They couldn't. I rigged a special harness for myself under my coat that held my trench broom in just the right way. My right coat pocket was false; instead of a pocket I could reach right for the trigger and bump off any dicks, hoods, or hard-boileds who would come by. If it happened to be someone of particular note I'd take them for a ride. That was my job before I actually started running the hootch back and forth across state lines. Then I became a gunman, and my post was on the runner board.

Week 50: Climb, Stack, and Balance Bots

2009-07-05T09:13:00.000-07:00

Week 49: Hug Bot Wants A Hug

2009-07-03T20:33:00.000-07:00

Lora Mitchell Friedemann Breaks New Ground in Minnesota’s IP World

2009-07-03T10:12:00.000-07:00

“JUDGES JUST DON'T LIKE IP CASES,” says Lora Mitchell Friedemann of Fredrikson & Byron, founder of Minnesota’s IP Litigation Bar Group –– the first such group in the country. “We’ll give them IP survival kits that have things in them like No-Doz.”

While the IP Litigation Bar Group acts as a sort of welcome wagon to judges new to the intellectual property scene, its main focus is bringing members together at quarterly meetings and social events to discuss current issues and share ideas, and to provide them with continuing education programs. About 56 members now attend these meetings, but in the beginning there were only three.

Kristine Boylen of Merchant & Gould and Becky Thorson of Robins Kaplan Miller & Ciersi had joined Friedemann for cocktails one evening about four years ago. “We started talking about how there are no bar groups for people who do what we do,” says Friedemann. “There were groups of patent lawyers and groups of litigators, but there wasn’t a group that focused specifically on patent litigation and other intellectual property litigation.”

There was another good reason to create the group. At the time, Minnesota’s federal court was seeking feedback about possibly adopting local rules for patent cases. “If we formed the group, we could help gather that feedback and create other substantive programs of interest to people who practice in this area,” says Friedemann.

Luckily Friedemann’s notes from that cocktail party, which she wrote on a napkin, were still legible the next day. “I was still excited about this idea so we pitched it to Judge Michael Davis, who was the president of the chapter at that time,” Friedemann says. “Judge Davis liked the idea and gave us the green light to form the group.”

But she doesn’t take all the credit for getting the group off the ground. “The judges in this district were very supportive and involved,” says Friedemann. “That was the key to our success in my view.”

– Courtney "Coco" Mault

First published in Minnesota Law & Politics magazine, June/July 2009

Claims Adjuster, Schwegman’s Steve Lundberg Creates A New Way of Sorting Patent Portfolios

2009-07-03T10:07:00.000-07:00

THE JOB OF AN INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY ATTORNEY is getting tougher all the time. During the past 10 years there has been a steady rise in patent applications, and sorting through them can be tedious work.

Thankfully, IP attorneys can thank Steve Lundberg, managing partner at Schwegman Lundberg & Woessner, for making that process easier. Lundberg’s latest invention, ClaimBot Systems, is a computer program that eliminates many of the mundane steps involved in analyzing IP portfolios. “I got the idea sitting at the pool at an American Intellectual Property Law Association meeting in Palm Springs in January 2005,” he says. “The idea for ClaimBot came from the realization that many companies now had so many patents — a number have 20,000 or more — they could no longer keep track of what they had and also had a very difficult time readily identifying their own most valuable patents.”

There are many portfolio analysis programs, but most only derive information from key words. ClaimBot is more advanced; it can sort, rank and analyze patent claims, as well as provide customized results for those who are interested in buying a patent portfolio. “It also makes everything more accessible for the person who isn’t up to speed with the language [of IP],” says Lundberg’s colleague Suneel Arora.

But computer programs, in the end, are just tools for talented patent lawyers. “We stay away from complete automation,” says Arora. “We put in some human intelligence.”

— Courtney "Coco" Mault

First published in Minnesota Law & Politics magazine, June/July 2009

No Business Like Show Business, A Chorus Line of Big-Name Lawyers Joins Robins Kaplan

2009-07-03T09:59:00.001-07:00

THE POWERS THAT BE AT ROBINS KAPLAN MILLER & CIRESI had long discussed adding an entertainment and media group to make their Los Angeles office more competitive. Three years ago, in fact, they spoke with several lawyers from powerhouse L.A. entertainment firm Dreier Stein Kahan about the possibility. However, according to Marty Lueck, chairman of Robins Kaplan’s executive board in Minneapolis, “the timing wasn’t right for them or for us at that point.”

But that changed when the Dreier firm imploded after Marc S. Dreier was arrested and charged with securities and wire fraud in late January. They felt they had to leave,” says Lueck, and, because of the relationships formed during that previous meeting, Robins Kaplan gave the lawyers––including partners Michael Plonsker, Yakub Hazzard and Mark Passin––a place to go. After that, Lueck says, bringing the lawyers onboard to form a new entertainment and media group at Robins Kaplan was “not a difficult deal at all.”

As for Robins Kaplan’s next move, Lueck is playing his cards close to the vest. In perfect entertainment-industry form, he says, “Stay tuned.”

-- Courtney "Coco" Mault

First published in Minnesota Law and Politics magazine, April/May 2009

Where There's Smoke, There's Russ Melton. He Makes Business Boom at Meagher & Geer

2009-07-03T09:55:00.000-07:00

WHEN RUSS MELTON SAYS HE'LL RETURN YOUR phone call at a certain time barring something blowing up, burning down or collapsing, he’s not kidding. A partner and catastrophic-loss team leader at Meagher & Geer, he knows his way around explosions.

After a seven-year stint in the 1960s as a Navy engineer on a nuclear submarine, Melton found work building computers and working with metals and die-casting. During that time he saw that the companies he worked for all had lawyers to represent them and started taking classes at William Mitchell. “It looks like I planned it if you look at my résumé — 14 years of school by day, work by night; or work by day and school by night,” he says.

He graduated and made his way to Meagher & Geer.

“I love my job,” says Melton. “It’s pretty much a job I designed. How could I not love it?” His list of qualifications is a long one, including nuclear engineering, metallurgical engineering and certification in propane and Hazardous Waste Operations and Emergency Responses (HAZWOPER). “Even my executive assistant is certified in propane and HAZWOPER,” says Melton.

Melton likes being proactive. “Do you wait for a case before you learn what it’s about, or do you seek out the training because the work comes to you?” Melton is clearly in the latter category. But then again, it would be hard not to get excited about learning when it involves spending months staging explosions and fires (with donated houses, boats, etc.) in order to gather data for current and future catastrophic-loss cases.

The catastrophic-loss lawyers at Meagher & Geer are good at cross-examining witnesses in the courtroom and gathering evidence in an “exclusionary zone” — the part of an accident scene where only police and other emergency response professionals may enter. It’s critical to find every piece of evidence immediately, because some cases last for years. “You can’t go back [to get more evidence] after that amount of time,” says Melton.

He has seen more than his fair share of explosions, fires and collapsed buildings. But with every calamity, there is the opportunity to learn — and to help his clients. “We’re litigators, yes,” Melton says. “But more importantly we’re problem solvers.”

— Courtney "Coco" Mault

First published in Minnesota Law & Politics Magazine, June/July 2009

The Fighters Behind the Ulitmate Fighter, Brock Lesnar's Lawyers Pack a Punch

2009-07-03T09:48:00.000-07:00

“TWO HUNDRED AND SIXTY-FIVE POUNDS? That’s him dehydrated,” says entertainment lawyer David Bradley Olsen of client Brock Lesnar. “His walking-around weight’s about 280.” Put that muscle on a 6-foot-3 ½ -inch frame, and it’s obvious why Lesnar’s mixed-martial-arts opponents consider facing him to be serious business. But when he won the Ultimate Fighting Championship’s heavyweight title last Nov. 15, Lesnar’s business got even bigger.

Olsen, a black belt in Taekwondo, and Brian Stegeman, a techno musician, both of Henson & Efron, fielded more than 3,000 phone calls and e-mails during Thanksgiving weekend for interview requests and endorsement deals. Not bad for the 2000 national champion collegiate wrestler at the University of Minnesota. After graduation, with the help of university staff, Lesnar chose the team at Henson & Efron to represent him.

“He could probably pick us up, each in one hand, if he ever gets angry with us,” says Stegeman.

Olsen and Stegeman have had their hands full, too, with Lesnar’s frequent career moves. After college he signed on with World Wrestling Entertainment, tried out with the Minnesota Vikings in 2004, jumped back into the squared circle with New Japan Pro-Wrestling in 2005, and then moved into the world of mixed martial arts in 2007. “We work with him on the full spectrum — from entertainment and endorsement deals all the way to litigation, if it comes to that,” Stegeman says. “If you go with many different people, you’re going to get conflicting advice.”

Lesnar “lives out in the woods,” near Alexandria, says Olsen. “He likes that.” But that doesn’t mean he never gets out. And when he does, he brings his lawyers with him.

“We stay in nice big hotels,” says Olsen. “But he can’t use their gyms with all the attention [he attracts].” So Stegeman and Olsen often help Lesnar find a private gym. While on one such mission a couple of years ago in East Los Angeles, the lawyers got a little more than they bargained for.

“So we have directions to the gym and the cab driver keeps saying, ‘You don’t want to go there,’” says Olsen. In the meantime, despite having directions, they could tell the cab driver had no idea where they were going.

“It was the Inoki Dojo,” says Olsen.

“It was a warehouse,” says Stegeman.

“Basically this gray garage-slash-warehouse,” says Olsen, “and it was at the end of an alley.”

“And no streetlights,” says Stegeman.

Then came the gunshots. But Lesnar would not be deterred, and the group eventually found the gym.

So far, Olsen and Stegeman say Lesnar is happy with his career — and so are they. “This is what he’s built for,” says Stegeman.

— Courtney "Coco" Mault

Brock Lesnar has his own company called Death Clutch.

First published in Minnesota Law & Politics magazine, June/July 2009

Imitation is the Sincerest Form of Ripping Someone Off, Merchant & Gould Makes IP Waves in the Far East

2009-07-03T09:43:00.000-07:00

CHINESE COURTS HAVE LEARNED TO SAY “ni hao” to Merchant & Gould.

The firm represented American technology company ADC in a lengthy case of stolen trademark identity after a company in China started using ADC’s distinctive lined, red box logo. What’s so hard about protecting a trademark from a company that obviously copied it? “What [people] probably don’t know how is how rigid the legal system is and how hard it can be to protect a trademark in China even where the infringement seems obvious,” says Scott W. Johnston, who worked on the case. “It was clear in this case that the other side was familiar with the ADC mark and copied it.”

However, “in many cases, an owner of a trademark in China cannot block the registration of the same or similar mark if the new mark is filed in a different sub-class, even if that sub-class is closely related to the sub-classes covered buy the owner’s registration. That was true for ADC,” he says.

The case began over nine years ago and went through several appeals from each party. The final ruling on ADC’s appeal came in September 25, 2008 from China’s Higher People’s Court, the highest local court in the country. “It appears that the Court deviated from established law in order to obtain the result,” says Johnston, “which is significant.” Significant for a couple of reasons –– rarely does the Higher People’s Court reverse a lower court’s decision; and rarely is a decision reversed in favor of a foreign company.

Could the ruling signal changes in China’s trademark law? Johnston hopes so. Until then, he’ll give the same advice he always has to companies doing business in China: “Be thorough, register broadly, and enforce aggressively.”

–– Courtney "Coco" Mault

First published in Minnesota Law & Politics magazine

No Business Like Show Business, A chorus Line of Big-Name Lawyers Joins Robins Kaplan

2009-07-03T09:38:00.000-07:00

THE POWERS THAT BE AT Robins Kaplan Miller & Ciresi had long discussed adding an entertainment and media group to make their Los Angeles office more competitive. Three years ago, in fact, they spoke with several lawyers from powerhouse L.A. entertainment firm Dreier Stein Kahan about the possibility. However, according to Marty Lueck, chairman of Robins Kaplan’s executive board in Minneapolis, “the timing wasn’t right for them or for us at that point.”

But that changed when the Dreier firm imploded after Marc S. Dreier was arrested and charged with securities and wire fraud in late January.

“They felt they had to leave,” says Lueck, and, because of the relationships formed during that previous meeting, Robins Kaplan gave the lawyers––including partners Michael Plonsker, Yakub Hazzard and Mark Passin––a place to go. After that, Lueck says, bringing the lawyers onboard to form a new entertainment and media group at Robins Kaplan was “not a difficult deal at all.”

As for Robins Kaplan’s next move, Lueck is playing his cards close to the vest. In perfect entertainment-industry form, he says, “Stay tuned.”

––Courtney "Coco" Mault

First published in Minnesota Law & Politics magazine, April/May 2009

Warning! Robert Tennessen Puts All on Notice

2009-07-03T09:19:00.000-07:00

WHEN ROBERT TENNESSEN FLEW BACK TO MINNESOTA in 1961 after serving in the Air Force, he wasted no time establishing his roots. But the self-described “farm kid” from Lismore didn’t spend time learning the fine art of crop rotation; he attended law school. By the 1980s, he had grown his very own law firm.

Tennessen also became a state legislator. That’s when he penned the infamous Tennessen Warning Notice, which requires state and local governments to explain why information is being sought and what use will be made of it. He doesn’t mind the notoriety, though. “It is probably most amusing to me when I am given the Tennessen Notice,” he jokes.

In the meantime, Tennessen’s firm was growing even though his own preferred areas of practice––which include data security and privacy work––were becoming more specific. “My practice has evolved over the years to very focused areas of law where being part of a large firm is not important or particularly beneficial,” he says.

So despite having plenty of extracurricular activities keeping him busy––he’s served on the board of directors for the Guthrie Theater and the Greater Lake Country Food Bank, and on the Basilica of St. Mary Finance Council, to name a few––he has opened a new firm: Tennessen Law. Isn’t that a risky move during an economic recession? “Obviously starting a new business or a law firm is always risky,” Tennessen says. “Fortunately I have a very loyal and competent assistant and some very loyal national clients who have been with me for as long as 20 years.”

–– Courtney "Coco" Mault

First published in Minnesota Law & Politics magazine.

The Translator, Language Wiz Mark Vavreck on Volcanoes, Earthquakes and Sleeping Under the Stars

2009-07-03T09:14:00.000-07:00

IT WAS MARK VAVRECK'S LAST DAY of Arctic Soldier Training, a mere week after arriving at Fort Richardson, just outside of Anchorage, Alaska. And he was sleeping outside. In the snow. "The Army has to prove to us their equipment works so there's no tent––I had an arctic sleeping bag," he says. So what was that like? "I didn't die," he says with a chuckle. “It was difficult to get to sleep, as you could imagine, but when I finally did, we all woke up to an earthquake.”

That wasn’t the only run-in he had with Mother Nature. A week after his Alaskan campout, Mt. Redoubt erupted 110 miles from the Army base. “The sky turned black on the horizon – not like storm clouds, I mean black,” he says. “After it was over there was about 3 inches of ash on everything.”

To top it all off, he didn’t even want to go to Alaska in the first place. “It was the eighties and, you know, the Russians were the bad guys,” he says. "What a party, and I was missing it.”

Vavreck eventually came to love Alaska, and his time in the Army, where he made sergeant. But his first love was the law.

As a boy, Vavreck idolized his uncle, former Minneapolis assistant city attorney Edward Vavreck. “He was a very well-liked and respected man,” explains Vavreck, who now practices consumer, personal injury and employment law with Scrimshire, Martineau, Gonko & Vavreck in Minneapolis. It was his mom, however, who encouraged him to enroll in the Army. “I visited a recruiter at the behest of my mother two weeks before my senior year in high school,” he says. He had three years of Spanish under his belt, so decided to take the Defense Language Aptitude Battery, which tests a person’s ability to learn languages. “The recruiter said everyone fails that test,” says Vavreck. But he passed.

After high school, Vavreck went on to the Defense Language Institute in California and began studying Russian. After graduating, he spent the next two years as a voice interceptor and Russian translator, as well as part of a four-man team that trained to go behind enemy lines. “But we never had to actually do so, as Russians do not have positions on Alaskan soil,” he says.

Vavreck finished his service in June 1992. By that fall he had enrolled at the University of Minnesota on the GI Bill, where he signed up for a Russian language class. “I ended up having a conversation in Russian with the professor on the first day,” he says. “All the other students were like, ‘Oh man, there goes the grading curve.’”

These days, Vavreck is no longer jonesing to fight the bad guys. In addition to his practice, he now teaches a negotiation competition course at William Mitchell––last year his team of students placed fifth in a national competition in Los Angeles. Vavreck is clearly proud of the accomplishment, pointing out a plaque on his shelf. While he was in California, he took a photo of a beach at sunset. Pointing to it, he says, “It was just paradise.”

No arctic sleeping bags necessary.

–– Courtney "Coco" Mault

First published in Minnesota Law & Politics magazine, December/January 2009

Morgan Lewis Meets Minneapolis, Michael Macaluso on His New Digs

2009-07-03T09:07:00.000-07:00

WITH MORE THAN 1400 ATTORNEYS ON STAFF worldwide, it’s easy to see why Morgan, Lewis & Bockius would need to expand its office space now and then. And while the economic crunch is stifling many businesses, it also seems to be exactly what spurred Morgan Lewis to open a new office in Minneapolis. “All of our decisions regarding the firm’s growth are driven by client needs,” says partner Michael Macaluso. “Our Minneapolis office has been particularly deeply involved in assisting clients in navigating the credit crisis.”

The firm’s clients include mortgage companies, asset managers and investors. The new office is a relatively small one with only four attorneys, but they plan to grow on an as-needed basis.

Morgan Lewis is not new to the Midwest––it established an office in Chicago in 2003. However, the Minneapolis location will make it even easier for their clients to access the firm’s resources. “Morgan Lewis is poised to help Minneapolis-based clients wherever they need us,” says Macaluso.

–– Courtney "Coco" Mault

First published in Minnesota Law & Politics Magazine

Laser Show, Gina Longarzo Stays Grounded Even During Cases with Alleged National Security Implications

2009-07-03T09:04:00.000-07:00

ON THE EVENING OF DECEMBER 31, 2007, David Banach was out on his deck with his 7–year-old looking at the stars. He was using a laser pointer. It was nice. Until he got arrested.

He inadvertently flashed a beam of light at a helicopter. This made authorities nervous. Just ten minutes later there were FBI agents at Mr. Banach’s door and they weren’t there to help him ring in the New Year. They wanted to ask him some questions. So they took Banach – against his will – out of his home and away from his family to FBI headquarters for polygraph tests. Even more startling: he was denied legal counsel before being subjected to those tests. Enter criminal defense attorney Gina Mendola Longarzo. Word of the case came to her from Banach's neighbor, who was a friend of her husband’s.

Longarzo has worked on many high-profile cases, such as those involving police officers and politicians, but this was her first interaction with the Patriot Act. She didn't foresee the case attracting much media attention. “This case was a fluke,” says Longarzo. “I never knew it would get so much attention.” The story quickly spread to CNN, CBS, MSNBC, The New York Times, Wired Magazine and even the Taipei Times, an English language Taiwanese newspaper.

Longarzo attributes Banach’s arrest to heightened anxiety after 9/11, which she feels resulted in an “an improper expansion of government power. All of a sudden misdemeanor behavior was terrorist activity. You could throw a snowball while riding a bus and be tried as a terrorist.”

She originally set out of law school intending to be a prosecutor, helping child and sex abuse victims. Her path changed during her judicial clerkship in Essex County Superior Court. “I found I preferred being a defendant, protecting peoples’ constitutional rights,” she says.

Banach was staring down the possibility of 25 years in prison and $500,000 in fines – and a prosecution that wanted to make an example of him. “The case was an uphill brutal battle the whole way,” say Longarzo. But she ended up negotiating a guilty plea for him and secured him two years probation.

After his case, this particular statute was amended to sift out similarly non-malicious activity. According to Longarzo, the judge also restored Banach’s reputation. “At sentencing Judge John Lifland detailed his good deeds and longtime law-abiding life and upstanding reputation in the community.”

Before the trial, David Banach was a strong supporter of The Patriot Act. “He was one of those die-hard red, white, and blue guys after 9/11,” says Longarzo. “But now that he sees how it can be misapplied and abused, he no longer supports The Patriot Act.”

Longarzo, however, recognizes there are legitimate reasons to support the Patriot Act. She also sees that certain aspects of it are abuses of governmental excess. “The Patriot Act was put into place so quickly amidst all the hysteria of 9/11,” she says. “It obliterated our current Jurisprudence.” Longarzo says she feels blessed to be able to challenge those abuses of power, but she thrives on helping the little guy. “This case was very near and dear to my heart,” explains Longarzo. “I fell in love with this sweet, down-home American family caught in this federal nightmare.” She admits that being in the spotlight helps keep her focused on the final outcome. “You need to always remember that what you say will be judged against your client. I need to not just fire off the first caustic remark that comes to mind in a knee-jerk reaction, but try to see the whole, long picture.”

-- Courtney "Coco" Mault

First published in New Jersey Super Lawyers, 2009

Flipping For It, Minnesota Law Firm Larkin Hoffman Turns 50

2009-07-03T09:01:00.000-07:00

The lawyers at Larkin Hoffman no longer leave important matters to chance. “We don’t make decisions by flipping coins anymore,” says Peter Coyle, who joined the firm in 1984 and has been its president for two years. “Now that we have shareholders and business models, that sort of eliminates the fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants nature.” The infamous decision that was made by tossing a coin came in 1958, when founders Bob Hoffman and Jim Larkin let Lady Luck decide whose name would be listed first on the sign.

AS LARKIN HOFFMAN CELEBRATES IT'S 50th anniversary this year, Coyle and of counsel Kenneth Lindgren reminisce about the firm’s pioneering spirit. “There weren’t any copy machines back then that were worth a darn,” says Lindgren. “We used carbon onion paper in the typewriters.” The firm’s secretaries eventually persuaded their bosses to buy new programmable IBM typewriters, resulting in significantly quicker document turnaround times, which helped the firm develop a larger clientele.

It was also the first firm in the nation, Coyle guesses, to produce a promotional brochure. “The firm got an ethics citation from the American Bar Association in the late ’70s for doing some proactive marketing,” he says. “This was pre-free speech communications rights.” The citation was eventually dismissed. “Now if you’re not in the Yellow Pages it really shows you’re out of touch,” he says.

The same may also be said if you don’t have a Web page. “Ten years ago we didn’t know what a Web was,” says Coyle. “Now it’s our primary way of communication. We’re working on moving away from paper altogether. “We do a lot of innovative things. It’s something we pride ourselves on,” adds Lindgren.

The firm threw a party on October 2 and is planning another on December 5 in honor of the event. “We’re still celebrating!” Coyle says.

— Courtney "Coco" Mault

First published in Minnesota Law & Politics magazine, December/January 2009

Old School, Minnesota Lawyer Kim Dayton Respects Her Elders

2009-07-03T08:56:00.000-07:00

WHEN SHE STARTED A NEW JOB in Atlanta after growing up and attending law school in Kansas, Kim Dayton knew she would make plenty of friends. But she never expected to get better acquainted with her grandparents––who lived in North Carolina, just a three-hour drive away.

After a few weekend visits, Dayton learned how her grandparents were living. “They were very low-income and not well educated. In fact, my grandfather couldn’t even read,” she says. “I saw how important programs such as the establishment of senior centers, transportation services, and programs like meals on wheels were to them in their old age.”

This experience helped inspired her to pursue a life helping seniors. In 1995 Dayton established a volunteer clinic for helping the elderly with legal issues in Lawrence. And when she became a faculty member at William Mitchell College of Law in 2005, she created the Center for Elder Justice and Policy, which collaborates with organizations that help with the elderly in order to make more efficient use of their resources. “Academic institutions have a lot of resources that small organizations don’t,” explains Dayton. “My center connects our resources to the community.”

One group the center––alongside Volunteers of America, Senior Services, Protective Services and Elder Justice Fellow Andrea Palumbo––focuses on helping is elder orphans––seniors without friends or family who can help them make decisions concerning personal or financial matters.

“Minnesota doesn’t have a system set up to keep the elderly out of poverty,” Dayton says. She believes that institutions like William Mitchell should create greater public awareness of these issues. “Our elderly are being devastated by increased gas prices combined with their fixed incomes,” she says. “Even if they don’t drive themselves, there are programs like Meals on Wheels that end up having to cut back on their services.”

So where is the center? “Right here,” Dayton says, tapping the top of her desk that, with its towers of paper, could be a diorama of a city. The center isn’t a physical building that people can walk into and get legal advice. “It’s really more of a concept,” she says. “We are trying to connect William Mitchell’s resources––our library, our students who have the time to do research, and their passion to be engaged––with the community.”

Dayton’s students work hundreds of volunteer hours on projects such as making sure the policies in nursing homes are upheld, and creating the policies themselves––such as the Caregiver Leave Act, which would help relieve the financial burden of having to take time off from work in order to care for a loved one.

“I consider the students I graduated to be a huge success,” Dayton says. “Now they have the tools to help spread the word and find solutions for these issues that will affect everyone.”

Grandpa and Grandma would be proud.

–– Courtney "Coco" Mault

First published in Minnesota Law & Politics Magazine

Brothers in Law: Jeffrey and Thomas Sieben

2009-07-03T08:48:00.000-07:00

JEFFREY AND THOMAS SIEBEN ARE SITTING across from one another at a large conference table. “This is the first time we’ve spoken in years,” Tom says. They look at each other, burst out laughing and Jeff shakes his head. “We live across the street from each other,” he says.

The brothers are close, and not just because of the proximity of their homes. Jeff, two years older than his brother, recently became a father for the first time; he named his son Benjamin Thomas.

Jeff, a personal injury lawyer with Sieben, Grose, Von Holtum & Carey, and Tom, a criminal defense lawyer at Sieben Law Office, are third-generation attorneys, preceded by their grandfather Harry and their father Harry Jr. And there are even more lawyers in the Sieben family, too, including three uncles who practice personal injury law. “We had a very unique upbringing,” says Tom. “We were around law all the time. It really gave us an advantage.” When the brothers would have a day off from school, their father would often bring them to the office. There was plenty of shop talk at the dinner table.

However, they were never pushed to be lawyers. “We came to it on our own,” says Jeff. But not before exploring other career options first. Though Tom went to law school, he did so with plans of becoming a politician. When it came time to run for office, however, he was already working as a criminal defense lawyer and didn’t want to stop. “Being a lawyer is my primary passion,” he says.

Jeff had a similarly twisty path to the law. After graduating from St. John’s University, he taught English to seventh- through 11th-graders in Bucaramanga, Colombia. “I respected [my father’s career], but I wanted to try other options,” he says. “I studied government, but I enjoyed teaching.”

For both brothers, the motivation to work in government, teach and ultimately become lawyers stems from a desire to help people. “But it’s important to make some time to get out from behind the desk” and out into nature, says Tom. “We [recently] canoed down the Big Fork River. I was in the back paddling and my brother was in the front hunting for deer on shore.”

As for the newest Sieben, Jeff isn’t worried about Benjamin becoming a lawyer. “I’m going to provide the chance at other options,” he says, “like I got when I was growing up.”

–– Courtney "Coco" Mault

First published in Minnesota Law & Politics magazine, December/January 2009

Arthur Greenburg, Almost 60 Years of Southern California Law

2009-07-03T08:33:00.000-07:00

“IN 1952, A LAW SCHOOL GRADUATE could expect to make about $5,000 a year,” says lawyer Arthur Greenburg. And he should know. That’s the year – fresh out of law school – that he began practicing law. Now, better than half-a-century later, beginning lawyers do a lot better, and Greenberg is no longer struggling to pay his rent. And much more than salary has changed for lawyers since the fifties.

According to Greenburg, “The greatest changes in the practice have been with respect to the increase in women lawyers.” There were three women in Greenburg’s class of fifty. “Today, women constitute half or more of law school graduates and the new lawyers hired by law firms.” Not only has the diversity of students changed, but the areas of study have as well. “The advances in technology and innovative business developments [are] requiring lawyers to learn subjects which were not taught in law school decades ago.”

Some things have remained constant, though. For Greenburg, “the practice of law really has not changed since the beginning of my career. I attempted to treat opposing counsel and judges with courtesy and respect and by and large, they have reciprocated. Over the years, most of my relationships with other counsel have been cordial and that continues to the present date. Law firms in 1952 were looking for the best and brightest young lawyers and that has not changed today.”

-- Courtney "Coco" Mault

First published in Southern California Super Lawyers magazine, 2009

Red Ox Cafe: Don't Want to Fix What Ain't Broke

2009-06-29T19:37:00.000-07:00

Painted by Michelle, the daughter of one of the cooks, 1984

FROM THE AGES OF FIVE TO 18 I grew up in a suburb 27 miles north of Minneapolis, Minnesota called Ham Lake. At a young age I saw an aerial photograph of the town's namesake lake. To me, it looked like a pork chop, complete with a small circular island where the bone would be. I was familiar with what pork chops looked like, being my father's favorite dinner meal, and my least favorite. From then on I joked that the town was named after the shape of the lake. For the fun of it I even drew a plump pink pig swimming in a lake; I still have it.

My cousin's rendition

Recently, I decided to look up the actual reason behind the odd name of the then sparsely populated suburb, only to confirm that my childhood joke was in fact true.

Another detail I hadn't given a second thought to until recently is a cafe my elementary school bus would drive by in the mornings and afternoons. Everyday I'd see the small, dark red cafe with a porch

accented with white support beams. What I would pay attention to from the windows of the bus however, was not the cafe, but the giant sculpture of a man holding a muffler next door. The Red Ox Cafe, I remember it having ox horns over the front threshold, didn't seem as interesting to me at the time. After all, maybe I could get inside the giant muffler man and drive it around town. That would be much more exciting than sitting and drinking coffee in the cafe, which I remembered as always being heavy with cigarette smoke and filled with men wearing those trucker hats with logos on the front and bright plastic mesh backs.

The cafe had always been there, at the corner of Highway 65 and Constance Boulevard NE; and to my relief, it still is. I feel a bit guilty that all of these years later only now is my curiosity peaked. To make amends, I decided to track down the history of the little cafe as soon as I could.

I had my reunion with the Red Ox on a Sunday because "Saturdays are too busy" for any of the staff to be able to sit down and talk with me. I had just finished the Number 11: two eggs, hash-browns and toast made from homemade bread. It was lunchtime, but they serve breakfast all day. This a greasy-spoon, for sure, and there was real butter on my toast. The entire meal had that homemade taste, just like I remember from when I visited as a kid. I admit I was a little surprised the cafe hadn't changed in all these years (though the cigarette smoke was gone). Even the interior wood-paneled walls remained with various framed, faded western prints of cowboys and scenery. Several white-boards and chalkboards listing the daily specials filled the restaurant, too, along with a couple of homemade construction paper fishes announcing an all-you-can-eat fish fry.

By the time I finished eating the crowd had thinned out, which allowed Cindy some time to sit down and talk with me between serving tables. Before it was the Red Ox, the cafe was named Mellow Lane, which was a combination of the two original owners' names, Mel and Elaine. "The building is close to 60 years old," said Cindy, who has been a waitress at the Red Ox since 1984. "It was originally a fruit and vegetable stand, and there was a drive-through." Now that Cindy had said that, the white support beams for the overhanging roof of the porch did resemble a former produce stand. The original part of the building is the main dining area, just as it was back then, though the drive-through has been closed off to the outside and all that remains of it is a small alcove near the cash register.

She went on to say that Don Boustrom (sp?) bought Mellow Lane and had an addition built to make room for more dine-in customers, which is where we were sitting. This addition kept the integrity of the original architecture, which is very simple. We sat at a small square table in the middle of other tables and booths just off the main room, each topped with a small bowl of creamer cups and a sticky napkin dispenser, all of which are surrounded by tchotchkes sitting high on shelves.

It was Fran and Dean Refshaw who bought Mellow Lane and re-named it Red Ox Cafe. "They would vacation in Germany once a year and they ate at [a restaurant named] Red Ox there. I don't know what town that was in, but that's what they named this cafe after." In 1993 Dean Refshaw died of liver cancer and his wife decided to sell the Red Ox to Tom and Paula Wherley. "And they've been the owners for 14 years now," said Cindy.

Despite changes in ownership over the years, it was clear that not much had changed in the kitchen. "We don't want to fix what ain't broke," said Cindy. In addition to the homemade bread, they make their own mashed potatoes and gravy, and one of the waitresses even makes homemade Mandarin Orange Cake, a notable dessert among many at the cafe. The cake is quite moist and served cool out of the refrigerator with a heaping amount of fluffy, fruity frosting. In addition to the cake, another popular item is "definitely the hot beef sandwich." Even if some of the food isn't made in-house, such as the pies and hash-browns, "We try to get the closest to home that we can," said Cindy. "The customers wouldn't let us change it. If we try something new, the customers will let us know if they don't like it and we'll stop serving it."

The regular customers, for the most part, are retired folks. Historically these folks would sit and talk at what is called The Long Table, which is two of their 6-person tables pushed together making one, well, long table in the center of the main dining room. "They used to be farmers," said Cindy. "They'd be people who'd plow each other out of their driveways in the winter. They'd come in and have coffee and talk about stuff. Now [the regulars are] mostly retired people and they come in and they just talk, drink coffee and talk about stuff." On the first Tuesday of each month at 9am there's even a group of retired truck drivers who regularly gather together for breakfast, some of them from as far away as Mille Lacs.

The Red Ox Cafe offers special food events from time to time, such as the previously mentioned Friday night fish fry. More unique though, is the lutefisk. "Starting the first Wednesday after Thanksgiving, for three to four weeks, we start serving lutefisk. We get it from the Day Fish Co. in Mora, Minnesota, but we bake it here, with cream sauce or butter." But that's all Cindy was willing to divulge. "We don't want to give away too much of the recipe," she said conspiratorially.

As more customers came in for lunch, Cindy got up to help serve and I stayed a little longer to finish the last crumbs of my mandarin orange cake and take a few photos. Before I left I said goodbye to Cindy, who had her arms filled with two large, oval plates each with a turkey dinner drowning in homemade gravy. And suddenly I was hungry again.

Red Ox Cafe

16310 Highway 65 NE
Ham Lake, MN 55304-5313

(763) 434-4340‎

Week 48: Boxed Toy Bot Bolts Store

2009-06-22T21:48:00.000-07:00

BREAKING NEWS FROM REUTERS NEWS SERVICE: Toy robot escapes its box from toy store Lark Toys in Kellogg, Minnesota, a town located 95 miles south of Minneapolis.

No word yet on whether or not the box with the robot inside ever made it to a display shelf in the store, or if it was still in a back storage room.

According to a child on the scene, who wished to remain anonymous, the robot had plans to explore, but was too distracted by all of the fun opportunities directly inside and outside Lark Toys to get very far.

The robot particularly enjoyed the novelty of a clown standee outside the store's main entrance. Robot is currently talking with store management for a permanent position at the toy store as a standee-testing bot. No word yet as to how those negotiations are going.

This robot's box has not yet been found.

Bryan Stevenson, Seeking Equal Justice for All

2009-06-22T20:03:00.001-07:00

ONE OF BERNARD MADOFF'S CASUALTIES was the JEHT Foundation, a grant underwriter formerly based in Manhattan's Soho neighborhood. The Equal Justice Initiative (EJI), a nonprofit dedicated to prisoner defense based in Montgomery, relied on JEHT for nearly 25 percent of its budget. Now the EJI is just hoping for a miracle.

"You're treated much better in [Alabama's legal] system if you are rich and guilty than if you are poor and innocent," says the initiative's founder, Bryan Stevenson. With an annual budget of just under $2 million, his organization is representing nearly half of the 200 condemned prisoners facing execution in the state. And that's with a staff of 10 lawyers.

Because Alabama abides by an appointment rather than public defender system, and is the sole state without government funding for death row prisoners, financial losses have an even
more acute effect on organizations like EJI. "The timing couldn't have been worse," he says of losing support from the JEHT (short for Justice, Equality, Human dignity and Tolerance) Foundation. "Our resources are already stretched."

Stevenson isn't new to the fight. He began representing death row prisoners in 1985. Four years after graduating from Harvard Law, he founded the EJI's predecessor organization, Alabama Capital Representation Resource Center. Since then, his staff has had sentences reversed or reduced for more than 70 death row prisoners. "I don't care who you are, I believe that we are all more than our worst act," he says.

He's troubled by Alabama's interpretation of Gideon v. Wainwright, the 1963 U.S. Supreme Court case that ensures all criminal defendants receive legal assistance. The state not only appoints lawyers who may have minimal capital experience -- some don't even practice criminal law -- but the compensation doesn't begin to match the work required. "Until recently, even in death penalty cases, lawyers appointed to represent the accused could not be paid more than $1,000 for their out-of-time, which is shockingly low," he says. "No matter how well intentioned a lawyer may be, if they're not prepared to do the work, the client will suffer. In capital cases, the client will die."

Aside from traveling across the state and country to speak on human rights issues, Stevenson has a professorship with New York University School of Law, where he teaches classes on capitl punishment, race, and poverty. Some of his students spend a semester in Alabama to learn casework and address policy issues. "oart of our challenge is to educated people [in the community] about some of these issues and stimulate the kind of discussion that can lead to policy reform," he says.

One of Stevenson's major initiatives is eliminating life sentences for minors. "Most folks don't know that the U.S. is the only country in the world where a 13-year-old can be sentenced to die in prison, or that we put some of these kids in adult prisons with the most serious offenders, or that some of these sentences are mandatory and judges have no discretion to treat a young child differently than an adult," he says.

Since the JEHT Foundation closed its doors in January, the EJI must re-evaluate its priorities. For Stevenson, it's not an easy task -- every case is important. "People who commit crimes can't be reduced to being nothing more than a criminal," he says. "It is convenient to condemn, to discard and throw people away, but in my opinion that's tragically flawed.

"You judge the character of a society by how you treat the poor, the disfavored, the incarcerated and condemned. The true reflection of a community, a state or a nation can be seen in how we deal with the hated and marginalized."

-- Courtney "Coco" Mault
First published in Alabama Super Lawyers, 2009

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Week 47: Robot a la Ellsworth Kelly

2009-06-17T22:08:00.001-07:00