As I write this, I’ve just returned from my 40th High School Reunion in Victoria where my classmates and I reminisced about the shenanigans we got up to when we were all 16 and 17 and the extra 40 years (and the 40 pounds) all of us have put on since “Dark Side of the Moon” was released. And as it was an all boys’ school then, that last comment about weight gain shouldn’t offend the politically correct police.
Although 1974 is an important watershed year for me (Grade 12 and all that), I’d have to say 1984 was far more watersheddy. Why? I finished law at Christmas of that year. It’s the year I served my very last meal as a semi-professional Keg waiter. It’s the year I met my wife–to-be. And it was the year I first appeared in a courtroom as counsel doing a summer term at The Law Centre.
I took The Law Centre Term because I expected to be a litigator. (Ha!) Our group of 17 students was taken through litigation and skills training in UVic’s Moot Courtroom for two weeks before we moved to The Law Centre’s old offices on Broad Street in May of 1984 under the watchful eye of the phenomenal Glen Gallins.
I’ve never forgotten the day we moved into The Law Centre. Glen took all of us to a strip club around the corner. A few women in our group looked profoundly uncomfortable in a room filled with other women in various states of undress gyrating to Van Halen’s “Jump.” But Glen had a reason for taking us there. It was filled with (mostly) men who were either drunk, nearly drunk or profoundly drunk. Many were unemployed and on UIC or welfare, and whom Glen respectfully suggested, might also have been involved in petty or not-so-petty crime. “Look around,” he said, implying that we weren’t having tea at the Empress. “These are your people.” It was a broad generalization, but we got the point.
I know it’s 30 years ago, but in those days, we weren’t supposed to handle any case that involved family law or a criminal charge where jail was a possibility. And because we were essentially doing legal aid, we had to assess the income of the clients to prevent us from giving free advice to people who somebody thought could afford it, such as anyone in the middle class, or who had a job.
I did a few criminal trials, a number of “speak to sentences,” a couple of small claims trials and a lot of remands. I visited prison a few times. I learned a lot about impaired driving, as well as marijuana possession and breaking and entering. (Not really useful for a franchise and IP lawyer today). I would be in court by day, and serving by night in a seafood restaurant owned by the Keg.
One of my colleagues spoke to sentence for an accused who had been convicted of possession of one or two joints. As I said, we weren’t allowed to represent clients where there was a reasonable chance of jail, which is why she was very surprised when her client was led off to the hoosegow despite her outstanding speech to the judge about his excellent prospects for rehabilitation. “I didn’t even bring a toothbrush,” the surprised client said to her on the way to the slammer.
I tell these anecdotal stories because The Law Centre is integral to UVic Law and the Victoria community, delivering an outstanding clinical legal education and providing legal services to thousands of individuals who cannot afford a lawyer. So if you were ever a UVic law student, or did term at the Law Centre, now would be a good time to consider a donation.
I’d guess there may be close to 2000 former Law Centre alumni who got our first (and sometimes our last) taste of the courtrooms of B.C. as young legal aid lawyers at The Law Centre. So this year, when you get phoned for a donation, don’t forget the great experience you received on Broad Street years ago.
Send The Law Centre some money so it can keep doing the great work it does, decade after decade.