that belong to the Southern Conference of Bar Associations, and to the meetings of the American Bar. It was at a meeting of the ABA that I received the Award of Merit to the Arkansas Bar for the work ArkBar had done in writing and publishing the “Systems,” a series of loose-leaf notebooks that were part outline, part form book, part course guide for various fields of law. A lot of work went into those books and the ABA thought Arkansas had led the whole country in an innovative way to better law practice. I had nothing to do with the envisioning, creation or publication of the Systems. I simply was the Bar Prez-Elect at the Chicago meeting who received the award on behalf of the Bar in the absence of then President Walter Niblock, and got my picture taken with the President of the American Bar. In like manner, I learned about Interest on Lawyers Trust Accounts at some ABA meeting. I brought this idea back to Arkansas as a way to fund Legal Services for the indigent. The project bounced around for several years before it took its present form as a way to help finance some needed legal service for those who weren’t being served by the profession. I enjoyed the traveling to other states where I was made an Admiral of the Kansas Navy, an Honorary Citizen of Mississippi, and a Kentucky Colonel. The latter title was awarded only after taking an oath to never drink anything but bourbon whiskey, which pledge I took with my fingers crossed. Because Arkansas is so similar to the other southern states, I thought the Southern Conference was the most helpful. The other southern states have our problems, limitations and resources, and the solutions they have essayed can enlighten the path for us. Besides, Southerners give better parties and have more fun. I heard other Bar Presidents groan about how the best job in the bar was being Past President. I never felt that way. I enjoyed every minute of it. I really hated for it to end. Well, that is not quite true. There were times when even I had my patience tried. At some meeting of the American Bar for Officers and Executives Colonel Ransick and I were sitting near the back of the hall with
a couple of hundred other Big Bar Leaders. The idiots in charge of that program in a misguided effort at novelty fixed the format so that instead of giving information from the stage to the crowd, they asked questions from the stage for the audience to answer. Novel is okay for 15 minutes, but this charade had gone on over an hour. It was approaching the cocktail hour. I was bored by people giving impromptu answers. “Alright,” the endless master of ceremonies said, “here is another one. I need a prosecutor to field this one. A citizen comes into your office and complains about his neighbor making so much noise with his amplified electric guitar that he can’t stand it. You tell him you’ll think about it. Later the same day the neighbor with the loud electric guitar comes in and complains about his annoyed neighbor’s dog that is ruining his shrubbery by urinating on it. He wants you to stop it. And the question is, What do you do about it, Mr. District Attorney?” Nobody rose to answer. He repeated it and waited. Having been a prosecuting attorney, I finally took the mike. “The answer is: tell him to put his electric guitar in his shrubbery. With any luck the dog will urinate on the electric guitar, and that will short circuit both of them.” The laughter broke up the house. I went back to my seat despite the questioner’s pleas for more dialogue with me. The meeting ended, and Col. Ransick acted like he didn’t know me. It was at a later session of this same ABA meeting in Chicago that I heard a Delegate from Ohio give a report on the desperate condition of “No Fault Insurance.” This plan hatched up by the liability insurance companies would require everyone to carry a policy of insurance to cover his own damages regardless of how innocent he was and how miserably guilty the party who ran over him was. Obviously this meant lots of new premium dollars for the insurance companies, elimination of a field of law practice, reduced income for the trial bar, and great injustice upon the traveling public heartlessly hurt by the careless driver. The speaker was almost wild eyed as he assured the lawyers that, “The No Fault train is going full throttle for the crossing and
it is only five minutes till midnight.” The Bar had appointed Bobby McDaniel a one-man committee to do what he could to derail No Fault. At the first meeting of the Executive Council in the summer of 1978, Bobby reported that he and similar delegates from other states had met in Chicago, planned their strategy, descended en masse on Washington, called on every Congressman and Senator and expressed the vigorous opposition of the Bar to this legislation. No Fault was derailed and never heard from again. I was very impressed by Bobby McDaniel. I was also impressed by the powerful use of one-man committees. To the Congressmen, 50 lawyers descending on the Hill must have looked like the French charging the Bastille. I never hesitated to call on Arkansas’s delegation and vigorously express the position of the Arkansas Bar. My old college friend Dale Bumpers and my neighbor Kaneaster Hodges were in the Senate; Took Gathings, Wilbur Mills, Oren Harris and John Paul Hammerschmidt were in the house. John Paul, the lone Republican, had the best staff and unfailingly and quickly answered all my mail. Some of the others had to be stimulated by telephone. My Bar Year was a wonderful experience. My wife, Phyllis, was an invaluable assistant. If an event called for some new role for her, she always said, “Don’t worry. Judith and I will work it out,” and they did. Judith Gray was a great friend to both of us, and I appreciated so much what she did for Phyllis and for me. Donna Pettus’s letter suggesting I write this asked me to name the thing of which I am the most proud. That’s easy. I am most proud of the lawyers of Arkansas. Lawyers are the best company. The most fun to talk to, party with, listen to. They are the leaders of their communities and collectively of the state. They are responsible, trustworthy and honorable. They are widely read, experienced in the ways of the world, and interesting companions. Only a few take themselves seriously enough to become pompous judges, and even most judges are pretty good company. Being President of the Arkansas Bar Association is the best job in the world. ■
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