Vocal maestro
Patrick, the oralist, captivated moot court
Steven Levitas has a framed picture on his office credenza of the Sojourner Truth Club, the team that won the prestigious Ames Moot Court competition at Harvard Law School in 1981. In it are Levitas, Louis Bilionis, Nicolas Grabar, Leslie Ann Jones, Deval Patrick, and Laurence Shtasel.
Patrick took the photo in his backyard during a brunch he served the team after the victory. (He was, by all accounts, a good cook.) He mounted a camera with a timer on a tripod and then dashed back to pose with them. Later, he mailed everyone a copy.
Ames Moot Court is a monster of a thing. It consumes a year and a half of law school. Teams debate three times during their second and third years. In terms of performance and exposure there, says Shtasel, a partner in a big Philadelphia firm, "It's the main event." To win the damned thing is huge.
Levitas, who practices environmental law as a partner in a major firm in Raleigh, N.C., decided in his first year to field a moot court team. He had watched the finalists work feverishly in the Langdell Law Library reading room -- each side got a dedicated table for its operations -- and he liked the heat of it all.
So he talked with his friend Shtasel about putting together a great team. The first choice was a no-brainer: Deval Patrick.
"He was absolutely the first one," says Levitas by phone. "I had taken a trial advocacy-type class together and I saw him in action. His presence -- his abililty to communicate -- were noticeable. He had something special. And I liked him a lot."
Patrick agreed, providing he could continue his work at the Harvard Legal Aid Bureau, the student outfit that provides free legal services to low-income people in Middlesex and Suffolk counties. Patrick, who was later president of the bureau, would not cave on his commitment there. This meant he would miss some of the moot court preparation, but Levitas said fine.
Three distinguished federal appellate judges presided in the final round. The imaginary case before them was Lou Maguire v. State of Ames. Maguire had been arrested for burglary while on parole a mere month after serving eight years for armed robbery.
He was denied bail on grounds he was a threat to the community. He sued up to the Supreme Court, arguing that the state statute permitting the denial was unconstitutional. Patrick's team, whose liberal bent was at odds with its position, argued for the state.
"The punch line is that in the final round, we were living and breathing this stuff every day," recalls Levitas. "I understood that Deval was not going to be showing up all the time, but I got a little nervous as we got closer whether he would be able to pull all this together with his other commitments.
"Well, Deval stood up and just lit the place up," he continues. "I've never seen such a brilliant oral performance. You know it when you see it. He had command of the material and a manner with the judges. There was no question that unnerved him. It was so effortless."
Adds Shtasel, "He was really extraordinary beyond all of our years."
Nor was there any question who the best oralist was. (Trust the legal profession to come up with such a ghastly word.) He won the George Leisure award as Best Oralist over his closest competition on the other side, Andrew Loewi of the Lewis Carroll Club.
According to the Harvard Law Record, the school's student newspaper, Loewi said he "could not have done a better job in a million years. Deval's just a great oralist. Deval has incredible presence -- a wonderful manner when he communicates." Classy guy, Loewi.
"You said, whoa, this guy is going places," Loewi, a Denver lawyer, says. " I saw him later, when he was an assistant AG at the Justice Department. He had his little entourage, as all those people do at that point, but he was impressive and convincing in his soft-spoken and firm style."
Before we canonize Patrick, it's noteworthy that, according to the Record, he won "despite a tendency to lecture the court." This feels familiar. We saw some of it in his recent speech to the Massachusetts Newspaper Publishers Association in which he chastised the press for missing the import of his campaign and challenged them to mend their ways.
"Put your cynicism down," he instructed the group. "Don't trivialize optimism and hope. . . .Whether it was skepticism, distraction or the cynicism so many of us try to pass off as sophistication, some of your reporters missed it."
Now it's always a good day in my book when publishers get roughed up. But embedded in these words is an unmistakable whiff of petulance. As in How dare you not grasp the profundity of my campaign. Patrick sounds precious. You wonder how he'll take the daily root canal drilling of media criticism once in office.
That said, if you're charting milestones in his career, moot court looms large. No one there that day I heard from, including two opponents, is remotely surprised at his success.
Says Shtasel, tongue planted firmly in cheek, "We launched him."
Allis' can be reached at allis@globe.com. 