Bob Dylan for the defense

My first year out of school, I worked with a kind and funny lawyer, a venerable long-haired Legal Aid lifer. I think he started me on the habit of trying to find song lyrics to suit every legal occasion. He was a specialist in both Bob Dylan and landlord-tenant, so there were many moments when he'd break out with, "Honey how come you don't move?"

The latest New York Review of Books has a fine essay about Bob Dylan by Luc Sante, inspired by Dylan's new memoir, Chronicles, Volume One, which I'm rushing off to put on reserve at the Lacey library. I was pleased to see this blawg's guiding aphorism get a mention:

The ability to hatch an epigram—the way "To live outside the law you must be honest" emerges right in the middle of "Absolutely Sweet Marie," between two lines twisted from Blind Lemon Jefferson's "See That My Grave Is Kept Clean" and the refrain—is a function of that unconscious frame of mind, that willed trance state, that educated lurching, not of the wish to construct an epigram.

Well, it makes more sense in context.

There is so much raw material for the taking to build a Dylan-based jurisprudence. The man has spent years thinking about the law. He also loves our clients, guilty or not. I thrive on this stuff:

"What time is it?" said the judge to Joey when they met
"Five to ten," said Joey. The judge says, "That's exactly what you get."

In the courtroom of honor, the judge pounded his gavel
To show that all's equal and that the courts are on the level
And that the strings in the books ain't pulled and persuaded
And that even the nobles get properly handled
Once that the cops have chased after and caught 'em
And that the ladder of law has no top and no bottom

Outstanding. Fifty bucks to the next person who weaves Dylan lyrics into closing argument (payable on receipt of transcript).

You can dip in anywhere, it's all on point. Hell, in Europe, they're using Bob Dylan to teach legal English.

Many, many lawyers have favorite eight-tracks running through their heads while they're lawyering. Back in Twin, Paulie favored "I'm going back to Cali, Cali, Cali / I'm going back to Cali.. (hmm, I don't think so)," especially for extraditions, while Casey's theme song for his clients was Neil Young's imponderable "Why Do I Keep F***ing Up?" Back East, some state Supreme Court justices get CLE's for listening to Springsteen. For me, the most resonant on-the-job listening has been provided by Bob Dylan.