“Well,” said another, “the period in which Mr. Choate began his career in New York is commonly referred to as the golden age of the metropolitan bar. James T. Brady was a conspicuous figure in the popular eye. Charles O’Connor had already made a lasting impression. Mr. Evarts was in the front rank in politics as well as in law. Mr. Hoffman was equally prominent on the Democratic side, and Mr. Stanford’s brilliancy in cross-examination had given him an enviable reputation. The legal heavens were studded with stars of such lustre as to make any newcomer feel doubtful about his ability to compete. But Choate displayed no anxiety. He hung out his shingle and began to look for clients, and they came.”
A YOUNG LAWYER’S CHANCES THEN AND NOW.
“That was before the war,” resumed the original speaker. “Do you imagine he could have attained his position as the foremost American lawyer under conditions as they exist to-day without special advantages?”
“Possibly,” I said, and added that it was probable that Mr. Choate, if approached, would kindly throw light on the subject.
In pursuance of this idea, I called one evening at the residence of Mr. Choate. Previous inquiry at the law office of Evarts, Choate and Beaman, on Wall Street, elicited the information that Mr. Choate’s days were filled to overflowing with legal affairs of great importance. Consequently it was surprising to find him so ready to see a stranger at his home.
It was into a long room on the ground floor that I was introduced, three of its walls lined with tall, dark walnut book-laden cases, lighted by a bright grate fire and by a student’s lamp on the table by night, and by two heavily-shaded windows by day. As I entered, the great lawyer was busy prodding the fire, and voiced a resonant “good-evening” without turning. In a moment or two he had evoked a blaze, and assumed a standing attitude before the fire, his hands behind him.
ARE SPECIAL ADVANTAGES NECESSARY?
“Well, sir,” he began, “what do you wish?”
“A few minutes of your time,” I answered.