Most faculty seeking an attorney in a tenure battle need to secure the services of counsel on a contingency fee basis. Employment law firms representing plaintiffs are often, if not usually, unable to consider that option, for obvious reasons, especially in cases where the university’s financial resources are vast and the case might require a commitment to a decade of battle. The best and the brightest on the plaintiff side are thus, at several hundred dollars an hour, most often out of the reach of a female or disabled faculty member.

Yes, Martindale Hubbell is very useful but I know of cases where the Web was more up-to-date about attorneys recently disbarred. And as for organizations lawyers belong to, that is more often a “paid advertisement” than a barometer of quality. Indeed, the subscribed organizations often receive higher allegiance from the attorney than the client does — when the defendant’s counsel is in a position of power and privilege. And lawyers, like doctors, have a certain, shall I say, reticence to discuss colleagues frankly with actual or potential clients.

I know too many faculty plaintiffs whose cases were, indeed, jeopardized or destroyed by the less than stellar performance of counsel, or by the withdrawal of counsel from representation, for whatever reason — even more devastating to a client in a contingency fee arrangement. The courts approve such withdrawals all the time, of course, with the plaintiff in the catch-22 where protesting the withdrawal to the court is proof that the withdrawal is justified. The plaintiff accused of being difficult by counsel (the usual excuse for withdrawal) is thus raped by her counsel as well as by her employer.

And how many attorneys are comfortable with a client trained in research who also begins reading the law? Is not a faculty member, involved in her case, a “challenge” for the average J.D., who, like an M.D., is used to being the only one in the office with expertise?

In the courtroom, as in much of life, one gets what one pays for — and that, in a nutshell, is the dilemma of the faculty member who seeks legal counsel after being subjected to employment discrimination.

I beg to differ. I am a Plaintiff’s side employment lawyer, I’m fabulous, and I know many other Plaintiff’s side employment lawyers who are similarly fabulous, dedicated, focused on justice, unbought, and unintimidated by employers be they universities, big business, or the government.

Yes, you absolutely should vet any lawyer you’re thinking of hiring. Use Martindale Hubbell, check with the State Bar Association, ask any lawyers you already know for their opinion, check what organizations they are members of, and so forth. There are bad lawyers and you should do everything you can to avoid them. But I sure don’t like the blanket slander put out here about lawyers.

If you can threaten a breach of contract suit based on the plain English in controlling documents, that’s a far more effective (and often, less costly) strategy than, literally, making a Federal case out of it, even where one could be made.

Also, employment law is big business: the “dark side”, the employer side, has the best and the brightest working in some of the most prestigious firms in the nation — and likely, the university community as well. And discrimination law is complicated: the Supreme Court has seen to that.

It’s not an accident that the best early success stories are about the letter that an uncle-lawyer wrote, etc. So, be very careful in choosing a lawyer. Many a discrimination case has been lost by the mistakes — or the misplaced and often unethical alliances — of the attorney representing the plaintiff.

In my case, the Provost didn’t directly threaten to deny me tenure. I was told I should get the book done–the book I didn’t need for tenure at all in the first place!–and then go up the following year again “without prejudice.” But–if I didn’t have a unanimous department behind me, if I didn’t have a Chair working with the Dean to change her mind, if I didn’t have a second household income–I surely would have seen the Provost’s “request” as more of a direct threat to my career.

When I (backed up by my departmental colleagues) stuck to my guns and went ahead as planned, he approved my case. His professed concern about the verdict of the Council of Deans never made sense to me–it’s strictly advisory. He had the power all along to ding me or pass me. What was the point in asking me to withdraw my case and try again next year, other than to inject pointless anxiety into the process in my case? I think it just made him (and of course the Dean too) look weak and indecisive.

Sniveling administrators, indeed. Can you get us a link to that publication? (Oh, yeah–and which “L” word are you referring to?)

Historiann experienced one of the most insidious practices we’ve noticed at the University of Buffalo–the mid-promotion communication from the Provost’s Office that he planned to deny the candidate in question, and advising her (usually) to withdraw her candidacy, since his pal the President NEVER overruled him. And he never did.

There was sometimes a carrot, of sorts, with the stick: the offer of a non-tenure-track bridging line to ease the exit. But these were available only to those who withdrew, not to those who stuck it out (for some reason, insisting on due process makes a candidate unworthy of bridging lines). And these generous offers frequently came with an expiration date as short as a few days–yes, just like a plea bargain offer on LAW AND ORDER.

This makes it possible for the UB Administration to avoid lawsuits (since it’s difficult or impossible to withdraw and then sue successfully), and to fudge the gender bias statistics by saying that these de facto denials are really just candidate withdrawals. No doubt, this cunning technique has been the subject of an article in SNIVELING ACADEMIC ADMINISTRATORS FORTNIGHTLY. Huzzahs to Historiann for dropping the L word and beating the bastards back.

All the more reason to teach women’s history, dammit.

Now, back to my summer reading — the faculty handbook at *my* U.

In my former job, I was regularly given glowing review letters, but then was told, “lemme tell ya, this is what they’re REALLY saying about you…” It was a really disturbing mindfrack, motivated by unacknowledged aggression on the part of “allies” who were just trying to “help,” or by open aggression on the part of those who held minority opinions about me, which is why their comments never made it into my review letters. But, when I pointed out to the Chair of the department that I didn’t really need to take her whispered “advice” because the review letter was the only legal instrument, and if the advice wasn’t in the letter I didn’t need to hear it, I was retaliated against. Uppity me!

When junior faculty come to me for advice, I always tell them to look at their annual review letters from the T & P committee. I’ll talk over whatever it is they want to talk about, and we can outline a range of ideas or strategies for finding a publisher/appropriate journal/etc., but I always direct them back to the letter that reflects the consensus of the T & P committee.

What this means is that you simultaneously act as if you are just going to follow the rules, but also defensively keep track of the process..

Though I continued to be threatened with negative recommendations even though I published, won teaching awards, and hit my marks and more, the dean saw through these attacks and I did win tenure. (It’s one thing to try to cultivate one’s department, another to realize that some departmental members don’t want to be cultivated. Nor do they consider it their job to cultivate you.) I did make the point of speaking to my dean the semester before I applied for tenure, going through the procedures and discussing my reappointment files at the department level versus the unanimous support of the college-level committee.

I really missed that dean after he left. He was committed to fairness and to feminism.