Confessions of a raving, unconfined lawyer

I’m a 54-year-old lawyer, a 1973 graduate of HLS, and a sole practitioner in the Brighton section of Boston.  I grew up in Brooklyn, and have lived and practiced in San Francisco and Stamford, Connecticut.  I’ve worked in Legal Services for the poor and a municipal law office, and have managed a local rent control bureaucracy.  Along the way, I’ve worked on anti-Vietnam War and gay rights litigation and the Daniel Ellsberg case.  My one-person, one-room law practice is now focused, if that’s the word, on real estate transactions and litigation, landlord-tenant law, estate planning and probate, but the lack of hierarchy provides the constant joy (occasional terror) of being able to (having to) take on whatever interests me (comes through the door) at any given time.  It does make me feel like Abe Lincoln on occasion, although in my neighborhood the hourly fees haven’t changed much since Abe’s time.

Although I was an early adopter of computer technology in the law office, I’m not plugged into an institutional network, so I’m trying to keep current with older equipment (a PC at work and a constantly crashing pre-USB Mac at home) and a dial-up connection.

Oh — the catchline is an adaptation of the title of Paul Krassner‘s 1993 memoir, Confessions of an Unconfined, Raving Nut.  Krassner was (with Abbie Hoffman) one of the original Yippies and, as what might be described as the mutant love child of I.F. Stone and Timothy Leary, published The Realist, an underground magazine that recklessly combined counterculture news, paranoid conspiracy theory, and political satire into a unique and surprisingly influential force in the 1960s and ’70s.  I’ve always admired his steadfast determination to publish what (on some level at least) was the truth, despite the many personal setbacks which his efforts unleashed.

This site is intended for my professional and political self-expression.  Let me know what you think.

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