Isn't that dandy?

"Take a look at this" the flamboyant Los Angeles lawyer pulled on a tasselled cord with a flourish.
The miniature curtains slid gently open to reveal his little forensic museum: the items left behind in his clients by careless surgeons: a scalpel, 2 pairs of scissors, no end of gauze, a glove, three needles and a cigarette lighter.

"Isn't it dandy?" It certainly was to him as he reeled off the damages his clients had received, using the size of figures normally reserved for the Chancellor on budget day.
The same lawyer (rich and powerful enough to sport a pony tail in late middle age - and nobody, not even the judges of the US Supreme Court, was going to stop him) showed me pictures of him standing in the midst of the wreckage of a jumbo jet which he had conveniently stumbled on before signing up most of the grieving relatives.
"Isn't that dandy?" His vocabulary was as limited as his sense of taste.
This lawyer had photographs of his more distinguished clients on the walls of his office. I think that "distinguished" to him meant $$$$$, but perhaps in his odd way he had a point.
A rare visit to an art gallery (Portraits by Ingres: National Gallery till 24 April - and well worth a visit) reminded me how much richness there is in ordinary life, which we lose forever if we do not take steps to record it.
Solicitors should start with their files.
Our filing systems emphasise anonymity. Files are the same colour, bear little information on the surface about the drama being acted inside, and have an abstruse numbering system as the only means of distinguishing one case from another. How does an average firm of solicitors, with perhaps a couple of hundred files for each fee earner, grow such complex references? I had to grapple with one the other day which ran something like: 12/1673209Q/PEO-87/UKL6/abr. Mathematicians would say that the choices yielded by such a combination of characters would enable the one firm to give a separate identity to each member of the human race, along with every insect, fish and wild animal. Perhaps these firms are ever optimistic that they will take over the world.
Once, a long time ago, I used to tease government departments (which also enjoy long numbers) by making my own reference run to several lines. There was grim satisfaction to be obtained from watching the replies come back with the reference faithfully reproduced, with never a murmur. Now I prefer to be brief. If I could get away with it I would quote a single letter: Z, or better still, something in a foreign script which no one can emulate: O, or perhaps _.
But references apart, what distinguishes one file from the next? What keeps our celebrated client in mind long after the file has been pulped? Old files acquire a battle scarred look. If the documents are in a lever arch file, the prongs will not meet (I renew my plea to the manufacturers of these containers to invent a system which survives everyday use, and a trip to Counsel and back: you could make a fortune). Nothing here gives an individuality which is unique to the client.
We should not allow ourselves to become like harassed doctors who depersonalize all their patients by acronyms: TATSP (Thick as two short planks). NFN (normal for Norfolk), FLK (funny little kid). That said, we did for a while have a file marked OTP where reposed the long rambling indecipherable letters from those whose grip on reality had finally loosened. OTP incidentally stood for Off their Perch.
But back in the real world where clients are wonderful (aren't they all really?) we need to make ways of reminding ourselves of the life contained within.
Here are some new practice rules
*Every file shall have on the outside a large photograph of the client (and if acting for a family, a group picture to include children, dogs, cats and other animals). Computer technology should be adapted so that whenever a call is put through, the image of the client appears on your screen. This is less intrusive than video phones. You can pull faces at your client and she will never know. But make sure you have the right client. You may need to find out if it is Mabel Smith with the scar on her cheek or Mavis Smith who looks like a guinea pig.
*Where the case involves something interesting, memorabilia of the event should be kept in the fee earner's room. By way of example, appropriate items include: a small piece of automobile wreckage, part of the fence which was the subject of the boundary dispute and the subject matter of juicier matrimonial injunctions.
*Conveyancing transactions to bear not only a picture of the dream house your client is buying but also a photograph of the gas works which they will look out on after they have moved in.
*Crime files should always have colour photographs of the murder weapons, and you should ask the police nicely if you can keep the real object as a souvenir once the trial is over. To distinguish these files, images of clients should always be shown behind bars.
*Logos to be printed onto files to represent the type of case. A depiction of a warring couple for family cases, a neat bungalow for conveyances, a ramshackle flat for Landlord/tenant disputes and, would it be too macabre to portray a coffin for probates?
And so when our pony tailed colleagues come over from the USA what will we be able to show them?
"Jeezus" they will say, as they look around our rooms littered with dead cars, broken fences and dangerous weapons, "Have you gone into the scrap metal business?"
And let no one say that if we had it would make us richer than what we are doing at present.

This article first appeared in Solicitors Journal in February 1999