by Kenneth P. Nolan

When I was first admitted, I refused to wear jeans since I was now a big shot lawyer and wanted to appear distinguished in my chinos or corduroys. Never mind that I probably looked 12. I was on the prowl for my first million dollar case. Or any case for that matter. I knew no one would hire me if I were seen in ragged jeans and a dirty sweatshirt. "Dress well, live in a nice house and drive a good car. That's what successful lawyers do" was the advice from a respected but not that much older attorney. Since I lived in a small row house with a postage stamp lawn and drove an ugly orange Volkswagen Rabbit with black and white checked cloth seat covers, my only hope was to buy a decent suit or two and avoid looking like a schlub. So I tried to dress neatly and maturely on my very limited budget since, along with a business card, that was how you were perceived-physical appearance.

Of course I knew there was more to being respected and generating business than to throw your jeans in the garbage. An impressive office was somewhat important, but no sweeping views of the Manhattan skyline for a young associate in a 15 person law firm. So we dressed in our suits and ties bought during Barney's sale week and tried to pretend we were 55 with the white haired wisdom of a leader of the bar. And failed since we were 20-something lawyers who wore a suit and tie that didn't quite match.

But I was never the brilliant but scatterbrained professor type, shirt hanging out, stained tie, hair unkempt. I always realized that appearance matters, except for those college years when I only had occasion to wash my hair and clothes about every month. Maybe I inherited it from my father who always looked handsome, maybe it was innate, whatever. I just remember my petite but never shy mother announcing that she would never go to one of the local storefront lawyers because "he's the biggest slob I've ever seen." Although I never received an engraved invitation to Law Review, I knew one way to generate business was for women in the Rosary Society to pronounce me a "polite young man who always looks neat."

It's near 30 years since I've been admitted and now I wear jeans all the time-failed attempts to make me look younger. And every so often I succumb to the Californization of casual Fridays. I now realize that image has long ago ceased to be how you dress and look. Instead of xeroxing the Martindale-Hubble blurb, we have fancy brochures, interactive websites, newsletters emailed, full-page magazine ads, directors of client development and public relations advisers to help us practice the business we call law. And never mind the garish billboards and annoying 3am tv spots begging to call 1 800 IM8KU$$.

It's a whole new industry to make us a bit more attractive, proficient, intelligent. Or as Bob Parr says in the animated film, "The Incredibles," "They keep finding new ways to celebrate mediocrity." Ordinary cases are embellished to an absurd level where we killed the dragon single-handedly, our breadth of legal knowledge unsurpassed, our experience measured in centuries not years.

Heck, we're all guilty. I'm renovating my office as I write and I've spent more time looking at furniture than it took Tolstoy to write War and Peace. And I've had at least three professional photographers take my portrait but they just can't make me as handsome as I actually am. Hence the photo of me attached to the refrigerator in our firm kitchen looking somewhat, shall we say, like Saturday Night Live's Church Lady.

Advertising is also the norm. In a recent issue of The American Lawyer, there were 12 full page ads from law firms, almost all without a photo of a lawyer--too ordinary I imagine. Instead pictured was a 4 leaf clover, a polar bear, a globe, a golden retriever, fish, the New York skyline, sail boats, a magnifying glass, fortune cookies, along with the traditional announcements of awards won, diversity achieved and bios of the newly made members of the firm. All were tasteful yet somewhat bland, certainly not on par with beer ads. And I don't know what good they do, but they're ubiquitous.

Today image is more than a good navy blue Communion suit. It's an essential part of our business generation and competition. Not really wolves in sheep's clothing, but our edges have been softened, our accomplishments trumpeted. It's an interactive age where video, photos and documents are a click away. It would be wonderful if we were judged on the content of our character, but as Dr. King preached that is an ideal, which will never be fully achieved. So as long as we have the websites, brochures, logos adorning our stationery, we might as well remember a few basic common sense rules.

Be Real. It's just so easy to be a phony. And as Holden noted the world is full of fat-assed phonies. As is our profession, promising an easy, quick victory, telling what they want to hear, allowing the visions of Hollywood wealth to parade through the mind. But there must be some substance to the hype. You must deliver. It's just so easy to guarantee stupendous results. Clients, even sophisticated ones, are desperate to hear that they'll get off, receive millions or be vindicated at trial. You're Santa and they're sitting on your lap, wanting reassurance that the endless sleepless nights will end and that one bright morning underneath the tinsel-flecked tree will be the shiny two-wheeler that they've dreamt about for months.

Very difficult to resist the temptation because they ask and ask and stare with those pleading baby seal eyes, desperate for a morsel of reassurance. Hard to force the words from your mouth-You know Bob, you could lose this one…it could go either way…your case is a bit weak and you never know what a jury will do…You risk anger, tears and sometimes, a letter requesting the file be transferred to your competitor and then living with the hallway stares and murmurs from your partners that translate to how did you screw that one up, except screw is replaced by any number of more emphatic words. But candor has to be sternly delivered like a Sunday sermon to pews of sinners who were a touch overserved at cocktail hour the night before.

Yes, you've won plenty of cases and maybe one or two was the result of your brilliance. But in the darkest hour just before dawn you realize you ain't that good, that others may be better. Your literature says otherwise of course. And the clients in the faux painted room fiddling with the pencils around the mahogany table believe most of what they read. Now is the time to prove your worth and tell it like it is. Otherwise, 18 months from now, the quiet of the room will be punctured with "Whaddya tawkin about, whaddya mean we could lose, you never told us that."

So tell the truth and be yourself as much as possible. Given time most people can spot a fake. Sure the pr works for while, but in the end success is measured not by your beauty, but by your preparation, by your honesty.

Don't forget the media. Most litigation is boring, rather mundane stuff. Outside of those involved, no one gives a dang. But just once in awhile, you handle a case that makes the tabloids, whether it's representing the accused murderer du jour or the high-powered exec that looted the company. Those cases are often tried in the press before the lawyers climb the courthouse steps. To ignore public perception of guilt is to believe jurors decide cases solely based on facts and law. Jury consultants confirm that every newspaper headline and evening newscast affects juror's views dooming defendants in financial scandals or those accused of murdering their lover before jury selection.

If you handle such a high-profile matter, you must litigate in both places--the media as well as the courtroom, before, during and even after trial. Was Martha Stewart convicted because she nastily complained about the tunes while she was on hold for her Merrill Lynch broker? Is the word Enron so tainted that any employee tried for financial issues is guilty before he steps into the courtroom? Cases are tried in the press and attorneys must issue statements as did Michael Eisner's lawyer during the shareholder suit involving the hiring and firing of Michael Ovitz. Not the pr gal, but the attorney. That trial was broadcast on a live webcast fed through security cameras in the courtroom.

Eventually trials will be like sports. Years ago, there was one college football game on Saturday afternoon and when that ended, one more. Then came ESPN and now you can watch 14 games on Saturday and that's just cable. Don't forget Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights. And if you have the million channel sports nut package you can probably watch every football game in the country. And the local high school game as well. So it will be with law. If they can broadcast a trial via security cameras, then why not put every fender bender I hurt my neck and can't lift a ham sandwich case on tv or the internet. They're probably more interesting than most of the trash that my kids now watch. And if there's a hint of celebrity, sex or violence, these broadcasts will generate more viewers than Peter Jennings.

So become media savvy since this is the age of immediate and all-encompassing information. Just a click away. And if you still use a manual typewriter, hire people who know what they're doing. You may need a spokeswoman, a public relations specialist, a media consultant, spinmeisters all, but sometimes essential. Concentrate on the legal aspects but don't ignore public opinion. The throngs of women cheering when Scott Peterson was convicted didn't hear a bit of evidence, but they had him convicted after the first headline.

Have Class. Please. It's not that difficult to dress appropriately and to look like you bathe occasionally. No one's perfect, but shine your shoes. Appearance is important. One of our attorneys returned from court and remarked how busy her adversary kept insisting she was, her schedule full, her time in great demand. Probably true, but then the attorney remarked on her bad skirts, mismatched outfits and lunch lady shoes. Her litigation abilities were fine, but she didn't have the look, the professional awe. If you make a gazillion dollars, buy a decent tie.

As for your propaganda, er, promotional materials. It should be concise, clean. There are graphic designers who can create a logo that all new associates will gladly have tattooed to their ankle. I was taught that stationery is a glimpse of your efficacy. If it was neat and there were no typos, then it portrayed professionalism. Remember it's not the presidential campaign where every word and photoshoot is scripted but if you're going to produce the materials, do it properly. Control look and content. Produce materials that reflect your values, your firm's values. Just because it works for others, does not mean that it will work for you. Think about the message you wish to convey and then adapt your materials to reinforce that idea.

Remember you're trying to express an idea of diligence, intelligence and success. You can do so without the refrigerator magnets.

Less is More. Some law firms prefer to remain out of the spotlight, relying on their work and reputation to generate or maintain business. Egos are subservient to product. No interviews, no public celebrations of success, just good work done daily. On to the next case. If you build a reputation for excellent, thorough work, they will come. They will know you by your results, not your headlines. Solid, efficient, successful will be your trademarks. Your stationery will remain white, your Martindale bio short. Years ago, I was in court carrying a partner's bag and he pointed out a rather nondescript attorney standing quietly against the wall. He tries cases, said the lawyer with respect and a bit of awe. No posturing, no phony baloney gamesmanship. Here's the money, take it or try it. End of story.

Even in business, the same applies. A. Jerrold Perenchio, the chair of Univision Communications, Ind., the largest Spanish language media company in the nation, formulated rules to guide his business, the first one being: Stay clear of the press. No interviews, no panels, no speeches, no comments. Stay out of the spotlight, it fades your suit. Only promote the brands.

And for us lawyers, our reputation and our work is a brand. Not sold on the crowded supermarket shelves, but in the boardrooms of corporations or on the couches in our offices. And let's be honest, most of us would gladly trade a faded suit for a few moments in the television camera's glare. While publicity is sometimes effective, the client controls this aspect and many prefer silent work in the shadows, unseen but effective. Quiet victory whose volume can always be turned up. You feel important when your photo is on page 3, but headlines don't pay my four tuitions.

Know your stuff. All the fabulous photos and fancy websites can't convince a jury. It can help you land a client, but there comes a rainy morning when you have to stand up in court and begin your opening. The jury likes your hairdo and all, but they want evidence, eloquence. And if you can't produce, you flunked. And everyone will know.

Image is only that-good looks, elegant jewelry, plush carpets. Substance is essential. Without it, adversaries will pounce, clients will defect or, worse, will spread the word that you're all cufflinks and pocket handkerchiefs. Can't try a case, can't write a brief, can't argue a motion. Doesn't know squat.

Those who know the law, the facts and can speak and write in simple declarative sentences are winners. There's never a substitute for hard work, preparation and knowledge. Every single mother working nights realizes this as does every minimum wage earner. And you with your framed diplomas--don't forget it.