Lawyers tell lots of stories – some that are funny, some that are heartbreaking, and some that might be a little exaggerated.
We’re telling stories nowadays about Judge James L. Flannery, who is retired after 41 years as Warren County’s county prosecutor, domestic relations judge and, for the last 12 years, general division judge.
Many stories express gratitude for a job well done – the Judge was always efficient, imminently fair and distinguished. Others talk about his insistence on doing what is right, regardless of loyalties or politics.
The funniest stories are from lawyers who broke traffic laws and practically had heart attacks because of running late for Judge Flannery’s courtroom, the ultimate no-no.
“But, Judge, my house burned down this morning, and then my car had a flat tire. Then I got stopped because of that 18-car pile-up that closed down every street and highway in all of Southwest Ohio. You have to forgive me for being five minutes late.”
“Get in the courtroom,” the Judge would respond. “I don’t have time to listen to you whine all day, especially now that we’re so late getting started.”
Okay, so maybe there’s a hint of exaggeration in that story. But what isn’t exaggerated is that we lawyers quickly learned to move heaven and earth to be on time and prepared for the cases in from of him.
He expected the best of himself, so he in turn expected the best of you.
The story I like to tell is a story the Judge likes to tell about my dad. It’s one we’ve talked about several times over the years, especially over the last five years as teammates in a Dayton-area golf league.
Every Thursday night, in between bogeys and bad bounces, we discussed a variety of topics -- the Reds, good books and his travel plans. And a good lawyer story now and then.
“Your dad gave me my start,” the Judge told me frequently. “I was in law school and looking for some real world experience. One day I drove up to Franklin to see if he could give me a job.”
Dad had a small law practice at the time and a growing family (I was 13 and my brother Joe only 9) so the budget didn’t allow for any new employees. “But I tell you what, why don’t you come with me down to Mason. I’ve got a preliminary hearing on a murder case. I can introduce you to the county prosecutor.”
This was back when Morris Turkelson was the county prosecutor, a man who would eventually become one of my dad’s closest friends.
Dad made the introductions, and before long young Jim Flannery was one of the newest assistants in the county prosecutor’s office along with Tim Oliver (now Judge Oliver). Dad was always proud he had a role in getting Judge Flannery started in Warren County.
In 1980, Judge Flannery became the county prosecutor, where several years later he gave me my start in law as a law clerk. I learned that winning an argument involves more than just being angry. Success in the courtroom requires hard work and preparation. And never ask a question unless you already know the answer. When he spoke, I listened.
Then, once I became a lawyer in his courtroom, I continued to learn from him. Mark your exhibits. Know your case, inside and out. And above all else, be on time. Yes sir.
Two years ago, when my brother Joe became the Probate/Juvenile Court judge and I joined the staff with Judge Oliver in the domestic relations court, Judge Flannery taught me one final thing. “Now don’t march in there trying to change everything,” he said. “That’s a good court. They know what they’re doing.” Once again, I did as he said.
Judge Flannery now leaves the courtroom to spend more time playing golf and watching the Reds. He and his wife Sue can travel more. I’ve suggested he should teach at class at the UC Law School, his alma mater, but he doesn’t seem to like that idea. We’ll see.
But one thing is certain. Judge Flannery will always be remembered for the work he has done. His legacy lives on in the stories lawyers will tell.
He has been in the middle of so many high profile cases. He has made sound rulings in countless complicated situations. And in the midst of some very emotional courtroom scenes, where everything and everybody seemed to be wrapped in chaos, he has been a model for what it means to show judicial patience.
Provided you were on time, of course.
Thanks, Judge.
We’re telling stories nowadays about Judge James L. Flannery, who is retired after 41 years as Warren County’s county prosecutor, domestic relations judge and, for the last 12 years, general division judge.
Many stories express gratitude for a job well done – the Judge was always efficient, imminently fair and distinguished. Others talk about his insistence on doing what is right, regardless of loyalties or politics.
The funniest stories are from lawyers who broke traffic laws and practically had heart attacks because of running late for Judge Flannery’s courtroom, the ultimate no-no.
“But, Judge, my house burned down this morning, and then my car had a flat tire. Then I got stopped because of that 18-car pile-up that closed down every street and highway in all of Southwest Ohio. You have to forgive me for being five minutes late.”
“Get in the courtroom,” the Judge would respond. “I don’t have time to listen to you whine all day, especially now that we’re so late getting started.”
Okay, so maybe there’s a hint of exaggeration in that story. But what isn’t exaggerated is that we lawyers quickly learned to move heaven and earth to be on time and prepared for the cases in from of him.
He expected the best of himself, so he in turn expected the best of you.
The story I like to tell is a story the Judge likes to tell about my dad. It’s one we’ve talked about several times over the years, especially over the last five years as teammates in a Dayton-area golf league.
Every Thursday night, in between bogeys and bad bounces, we discussed a variety of topics -- the Reds, good books and his travel plans. And a good lawyer story now and then.
“Your dad gave me my start,” the Judge told me frequently. “I was in law school and looking for some real world experience. One day I drove up to Franklin to see if he could give me a job.”
Dad had a small law practice at the time and a growing family (I was 13 and my brother Joe only 9) so the budget didn’t allow for any new employees. “But I tell you what, why don’t you come with me down to Mason. I’ve got a preliminary hearing on a murder case. I can introduce you to the county prosecutor.”
This was back when Morris Turkelson was the county prosecutor, a man who would eventually become one of my dad’s closest friends.
Dad made the introductions, and before long young Jim Flannery was one of the newest assistants in the county prosecutor’s office along with Tim Oliver (now Judge Oliver). Dad was always proud he had a role in getting Judge Flannery started in Warren County.
In 1980, Judge Flannery became the county prosecutor, where several years later he gave me my start in law as a law clerk. I learned that winning an argument involves more than just being angry. Success in the courtroom requires hard work and preparation. And never ask a question unless you already know the answer. When he spoke, I listened.
Then, once I became a lawyer in his courtroom, I continued to learn from him. Mark your exhibits. Know your case, inside and out. And above all else, be on time. Yes sir.
Two years ago, when my brother Joe became the Probate/Juvenile Court judge and I joined the staff with Judge Oliver in the domestic relations court, Judge Flannery taught me one final thing. “Now don’t march in there trying to change everything,” he said. “That’s a good court. They know what they’re doing.” Once again, I did as he said.
Judge Flannery now leaves the courtroom to spend more time playing golf and watching the Reds. He and his wife Sue can travel more. I’ve suggested he should teach at class at the UC Law School, his alma mater, but he doesn’t seem to like that idea. We’ll see.
But one thing is certain. Judge Flannery will always be remembered for the work he has done. His legacy lives on in the stories lawyers will tell.
He has been in the middle of so many high profile cases. He has made sound rulings in countless complicated situations. And in the midst of some very emotional courtroom scenes, where everything and everybody seemed to be wrapped in chaos, he has been a model for what it means to show judicial patience.
Provided you were on time, of course.
Thanks, Judge.