1952

John Izard

Retired partner, King & Spalding

University of Virginia School of Law

When John Izard entered the doors of King & Spalding as an associate in 1949, the venerable law firm was roughly one-eightieth its current size.

“When I joined, I made 11 attorneys working at the firm. Just two of us were associates,” Izard, 85, recalls. “And we were pretty big. Kilpatrick Stockton, across town, might have had 12 lawyers at the time. There were no firms that were any bigger.”

Today, with international offices and a niche or specialty for most attorneys, legal work is much different.

“We did not specialize,” Izard recalls. Instead, the firm was known for public finance work and was the only one in the South to do bond work at the time. “I was not involved in that, but went into business and commercial litigation,” he says. “At one time or another I did corporate work. I suppose I did most everything, except the bond work.”

Izard recalls one of the important cases of his time being an antitrust litigation involving the merger of a string of convenience stores, owned by Dillard Munford, with the Atlantic Co. Big growth in the firm, he says, started in the 1950s but really took off in the 1960s.

There were no teams of research lawyers, assistants or paralegals in Izard's time.

“I had a secretary, that was it,” laughs Izard. “We had a bookkeeper for the firm and sometimes even shared a secretary. You did all your own work.”

So what about billable hours?

“No such thing,” he exclaims. “There were no billable hours. We just figured out a fair price for our work and charged it.”

Salaries were not overly grandiose, but certainly acceptable, says Izard.

“I probably started as an associate at about $3,000 a year, and that was good pay for an associate,” he recalls. “I suppose I must have gone up to about $10,000 a year when I made partner, and perhaps the really senior partners, then, were making about $50,000 a year.”

The making of a law firm partner today might be benchmarked by time, experience and success and could involve formal procedures and equity buy-ins into the firm. Izard's route was much simpler: He was made a partner about two years after being hired as an associate.

“There was no formality for making partner,” he says. “At some time you made it. I don't know whether we really expected it or not, but it came about. But certainly you didn't buy into the practice.”

“Then,” he adds, “you didn't pay going in or get anything when you were going out.”

1963

Miles J. Alexander

Co-chairman, Kilpatrick Stockton (made partner at predecessor firm Kilpatrick, Cody, Rogers, McClatchey & Regenstein)

Harvard Law School

When Emory University students Miles Alexander and former Georgia congressman Elliott H. Levitas won a major collegiate debate, the pair seemed to have foreshadowed their futures in law and public service.

“Elliott Levitas was my closest friend,” Alexander says. “We were to go to Harvard Law together, but he got a Rhodes Scholarship.”

The pair won their debate with the topic “Resolved: Negroes should be admitted to Emory University Graduate School,” Alexander recalls.

Alexander has been described as an elder statesmen of intellectual property law around the world, representing many famous brands such as Frito-Lay, General Mills, Disney, Rolls-Royce and the estate of Martin Luther King Jr., providing protection for the “I Have a Dream” speech, among many others. He also is known for public service in Atlanta. Levitas served in the Georgia House, the U.S. House of Representatives and helped create MARTA and the Chattahoochee National River Park, among many government activities. Levitas now is counsel at Kilpatrick Stockton.

After their win, the young debaters were celebrated at the home of a senior partner of Hansell & Post. Alexander recalls the poolside event and exposure to the lifestyle of a top Atlanta lawyer prompted him to want to pursue the same.

After two years in the Air Force Judge Advocate General (JAG) Corps, Alexander says he learned he did not want to practice criminal law. He began teaching at Harvard Law where his first-year students included Michael Dukakis and Antonin Scalia.

“I wanted to teach, and wanted to try for a Fulbright (scholarship). I might have pursued a career in teaching. At the time, I had an offer from Tulane, but I knew this would likely mean many more moves. After our four moves in three years in the military, my wife wanted very much to settle down and have children,” recalls Alexander. “We liked Atlanta very much. It was an easy decision.”

In 1958, Alexander joined the forerunner to Kilpatrick Stockton, then known as Kilpatrick, Cody, Rogers, McClatchey & Regenstein.

“It was a very different world then,” Alexander says. “There were no African-Americans or women in most of the law firms in Atlanta. Most also did not take Jewish lawyers. Ours was one that did, which was good for me, and I received an offer.”

Known as the largest firm in Atlanta, Alexander says employees referred to it as “We the People” because there were 14 attorneys working there at the time. With offices around the world, today there are nearly 500.

“Most of the lawyers did a little bit of everything. One day you did divorce, another corporate merger, then you slowly developed the areas you specialized in. You saw the interrelationship of one area of the law to another, unlike today where most must specialize early in their careers.”

Alexander says he chose his firm in large part because it was a meritocracy, where hard work and ability were rewarded.

“They did not look to you to bring in big clients. They had plenty, including Lockheed, Mead and many others, and they discouraged you from bringing in smaller clients. Part of our jobs involved always helping the senior partners. Most worked here every night and there were no billable hours. We just wanted it done right: a first-class product.” Ironically, his salary at the law firm was less than that as a teacher at Harvard.

Alexander and one other associate were named partners after five years, pushed ahead of the normal six- to seven-year path. He recalls being surprised and thrilled at a special dinner that was hosted by their immediate predecessors.

“After the formal announcement, they took us and our spouses to dinner at what was then a nice French restaurant, Chateau Fleur de Lis, at Cheshire Bridge near I-85. Senior partner Louis Regenstein was there and sent over a bottle of Dom Perignon. Well, the champagne cost $150, more than the entire dinner, and of course our younger hosts felt they had to pay for it!”

1979

Ralph B. Levy

Senior partner, business litigation group

at King & Spalding

University of Pennsylvania Law School

On a fall night, in his first semester of law school at the University of Pennsylvania, Ralph Levy gathered with other male students in the basement student lounge to watch the first drawing for numbers in the military draft for Vietnam.

“We watched on TV as little balls were being pulled out of a bin, each ball with a number of a day of the year. Some there were happy and some not. I drew a relatively low number, 50, I think, and I knew I would not likely get to finish law school.”

The following morning, while waiting for a class, Levy spotted a bulletin board ad for the Navy Judge Advocate General Corps with a number to call.

“The recruiter I spoke to told me if I was serious, I better hurry as a line was forming around the block. At the time, in addition to Penn and Temple, there were other law schools in the area. Many had the same idea.”

Levy skipped class to sign up. After enduring intelligence and physical testing and additional interviews, he simply had to wait.

“The following summer I was getting married. After the honeymoon we went to live with my family and did not know whether or not I'd be able to return to school. That summer I worked for a sole practitioner, earning $35 a week. At the end of the summer, I learned I had been accepted into the JAG Corps and went back to law school, making a commitment to the Navy of four years after graduation.”

Stationed at Jacksonville, Fla., Levy was first a defense counsel then prosecutor in the JAG Corps and finally named a military judge.

“Ultimately, all that time on my feet in the courtroom served me well,” says Levy.

When his service ended, Levy found he was years away from the law school placement office. Friends from Atlanta at the naval base persuaded him and his wife to try Atlanta and he landed an associate's job at King & Spalding, which by then employed 70 lawyers.

“My wife told me I was nuts. She said, 'What are you doing joining a firm with that many lawyers?' Of course no one had any idea of what was to happen to the legal community.”

Levy had hoped to follow the teachings of a favorite law school professor and join the King & Spalding corporate team on tax sensitive issues.

“About three months before I was to come to Atlanta, I received a call from a senior partner, Horace Sibley, who told me the South was going through a terrible real estate recession with tremendous fighting going on. He asked me to join the litigation team, at least for a year, because of the experience I'd had in military court.”

Levy found he not only liked the work but could sell himself to other partners in the firm because of trial experience.

“I and another associate determined which partners we needed to get in front of and I would literally knock on their doors telling them that next time a particular client had a litigation matter, I wanted to work on it. It really helped me along and when it was time for evaluations, I knew a lot of people.”

Levy recalls that making partner was “the gold ring, the reason you wanted to be a lawyer in private practice.” He was named a partner a year earlier than expected when senior partners determined he should be given a year's credit for service in the military. He later served as managing partner for King & Spalding for six years in the 1990s.

Levy notes there are huge differences in trying to make partner today.

“Some people, I'm sure, feel as I did, feel that aspiration and will try to take it all the way. But the odds are so different today. Some may think it's not even worth trying and their careers may have nothing to do with making partner and could even be directed at simply paying off student loans. Some may even pay off that debt and move on to something else.”

1986

N. Karen “Kay” Deming

Partner, Troutman Sanders

University of Georgia School of Law

A profound dislike for college chemistry turned pre-med student Kay Deming toward the law, but that love for science and medicine shaped her career over decades as a litigator defending pharmaceuticals, over-the-counter and prescription products as well as health and medical devices.

Deming was a summer associate at Troutman Sanders in the late 1970s when only just a handful of women had begun to crack the courtroom doors as trial litigators.

“When I started, a mentor, [John J.] Jack Dalton, who is now the president of the American College of Trial Lawyers took me to lunch and told me it was not the usual path for a woman to pursue work as a litigator. He warned I would have my work cut out for me. He didn't try to scare me away so I decided to give it a try with an understanding I could pursue a different course if it did not work out.”

One of four women lawyers hired at Troutman Sanders in 1978, Deming recalls her law school class was 15 percent to 20 percent women. She believes the groundwork had been laid by others for women to move into larger roles in the courtroom.

In the early years, she acknowledges, there was concern about—among other things—what she would wear to court.

“I needed to be credible. A lot of the issues were about credibility, so you wouldn't show up in a frilly, lacy blouse, yet I did not want to be a man. I remember one day struggling over whether to wear a red suit; I think I did.”

Deming also recalls owning a Brooks Brothers, seersucker suit she wore with a red bowtie.

In 1982, Deming began work on the defense of a Johnson & Johnson contraceptive product. It was work that would last 10 years and steeped her in studies of epidemiology and medicine. Her cases also involved asbestos litigation and became regional, then national.

During that time, Troutman Sanders did not consider lawyers for partner until seven and a half years after graduation from law school.

Early in the year she qualified, Deming also took on her first large role in the defense of a medical product.

“I worked on a case with a senior partner, soup to nuts. I was no longer just the second chair. I had responsibility in all manners for the case, and we lost. We lost $5 million. At that time I really wondered if I was cut out for this, though I felt so strongly about the case and the science and the medicine involved in it.”

Deming credits her “family” at Troutman Sanders with picking her up and pushing her forward. Later that year, in 1985, she was up for partner.

“In the past, the announcement had been made in the morning, but they decided that year to hold off until 5 p.m. so there would be a cocktail reception honoring the new partners. Those of us who were up for partner went to lunch downtown at The Mug. Some of the partners saw us and sent over drinks. We were very nervous, but remarkably we all made partner. We were introduced that afternoon to the senior partners in the Troutman Room.” The partnerships took effect in January 1986.

Deming says she never planned her route as a litigator, and while most of the past 15 to 20 years have involved extensive travel outside Georgia, she says it's been a terrific ride.

“I never felt I was treated like a woman at Troutman Sanders, but rather a lawyer,” she says. “I had the luxury of not having to focus on those kinds of issues.”

Deming was the first woman elected to the management committee of the firm (currently there are two) and just over a year ago was named a fellow of the American College of Trial Lawyers.

1991

Lizanne Thomas

Partner-in-charge, Jones Day's Atlanta office

Washington and Lee University School of Law

The tenacity of a bulldog would certainly come in handy to keep working during a long labor before the delivery of your first child. Such is the strength of Lizanne Thomas, partner-in-charge of Jones Day's Atlanta office, who recalls 1988—when her son was born—as a year in which several deals were in the works at her firm.

“I was taking baby leave and remember I billed time while I was in labor. I was bored and had to be sure things were handled properly,” says Thomas. During her leave she remembers faxing work to a senior partner who she believes never knew she was out of the office.

Thomas was an associate at what was then Hansell & Post and just shy of being up for partner when the firm merged with Jones Day in 1989.

“I became partner at Jones Day in 18 months as part of the fast track,” Thomas says. “It was as fast as it could go. But it was less about me and more a reflection of the success of the merger that the partners at Jones Day accepted the recommendations of the partners here in Atlanta.”

The success of the merger seems reflected in Thomas' philosophy as a corporate lawyer.

“I describe corporate or transactional lawyers as people who construct things. A lot of times lawyers are only able to advocate for clients in court. It is my personal goal to get people to work and build together.”

As an economics major, Thomas had envisioned herself becoming an antitrust lawyer. But she says the pragmatist in her knew the political climate of 1982 was not a hotbed of new law in that field.

Her early satisfaction in corporate law is reflected in a near three decades-long relationship with Flowers Foods, based in South Georgia.

“I worked for them on the very first day as an associate when I was assigned to research and write a memo. Since then we've raised money, handled acquisitions and solved problems all along the way.”

In 1990 Thomas knew she was up for partner, and if she made it, she would receive a weekend phone call from the managing partner. After working all day on a project with a senior partner, he urged her to go home where she arrived just 10 minutes before the call came.

“Dick Pogue offered me the position and asked me to keep it under wraps until the following Wednesday, when tradition at Jones Day would have the names of the new partners written on bathroom mirrors in the firm's office.”

But a problem developed when her husband ordered flowers and the florist got the order backwards.

“Instead of delivering a huge, beautiful arrangement that afternoon, it came that morning and then of course everyone noted the bouquet did not look like consolation flowers, and the secret was out. I still have some of those flowers, pressed away in a book.”

Jones Day feted the new partners with a formal dinner. No drinking for Thomas, though; she was pregnant with her second son at the time of her promotion.

In addition to her responsibilities as partner-in-charge for the Jones Day Atlanta office, Thomas heads the firm's global corporate governance team.

Tammy Lloyd Clabby is a Marietta-based freelance writer.