The Sad Fate of Legal Aid

By Richard Lacayo

Like most places that provide assistance for the poor, the Legal Aid Society's Park Place office in Manhattan is overwhelmed. Flooded with requests for help, the 26 lawyers who work there resort to a kind of triage system, sometimes choosing to block an eviction before untangling a Social Security foul-up, or rushing to counter an immigration problem while other clients wait for assistance in getting welfare benefits. "We just don't have the money or the staffing to do it all," says Attorney Morton Dicker.

Such problems are partly because of a shortage of attorneys willing to spend some time representing the poor free of charge. Pro bono work is the trade term for it, from the Latin pro bono publico, meaning "for the public good." It has long been a tenet of the profession that all lawyers should devote part of their time to such work. The U.S. Supreme Court has guaranteed a lawyer, at government expense if necessary, to every criminal defendant who faces prison. Though in civil matters, everything from custody proceedings to deportation hearings, the poor must rely on the generosity of others.

But these are not good days for pro bono. The American Bar Association reports that only 17.7% of the nation's 659,000 private attorneys perform this task. At Public Counsel, a Los Angeles group that receives about 1,000 calls a day for legal assistance, participation by outside law firms has dropped more than 30% since 1986. "It's the biggest pro bono crunch we've ever seen," says Executive Director Steven Nissen. The trend toward giant law firms that operate like corporations gets much of the blame. Goaded by a bottom-line mentality, devoting nearly every moment to revenue-earning work, firms that once routinely set pro bono goals for their members now often just issue watery memos of encouragement. In the money-mad 1980s, the thinking goes, plenty of lawyers do well. Fewer do good.

Last week, in a move that could help resuscitate the pro bono cause, the legal world's No. 1 revenue earner announced an extraordinary program to encourage lawyers to give legal aid to the needy. As a supplement to the time that its lawyers volunteer, the New York City megafirm Skadden, Arps, Slate, Meagher & Flom will establish a $10 million legal fellowship program to place 125 new law school graduates with legal-aid groups around the country over the next five years. "This fellowship is a further way for us to demonstrate that large law firms are concerned about the public interest," says Executive Partner Peter Mullen.

The young lawyers will be guaranteed a salary of at least $32,500 a year for up to two years. Some will also get help in repaying their student loans. That pay is a bit under half of what an entry-level attorney at Skadden, Arps gets for tending to the needs of major corporations. But it is higher than the $25,000 or less earned by many full-time public-service lawyers. Still, even legal observers who applaud the move say it is just a first step in a nation where some surveys estimate that more than 80% of the legal needs of the poor goes unattended.

The problem has been exacerbated by the travails of the Legal Services Corporation, the federal body that helps fund about three-quarters of the legal-aid operations around the country. President Reagan came into office vowing to shut it down entirely. While the corporation's eleven-member board of directors, now all Reagan appointees, has balked at that, its funding requests have dropped from $399.9 million in fiscal year 1982 to $305.5 million last year. "My feeling is that if everyone assumes that ((legal aid)) is a federal responsibility, the opportunity to develop alternatives simply will not be encouraged," says Corporation Chairman W. Clark Durant III. When Congress refused this year to cut the corporation's budget further, to $250 million, the board actually hired lobbyists to press the lawmakers for less -- yes, less -- money.

Meanwhile, one solution to the legal-aid crisis being debated more frequently is mandatory pro bono, a system by which courts, legislatures or bar associations would compel attorneys to donate their time, sometimes with the option of paying a fee to be excused. Programs of that kind have been imposed by courts in a number of areas around the country, including Westchester County, N.Y., and El Paso, as well as at least four local bar groups. Legislatures in Oregon and Washington have also looked into it, though with no action.

But mandatory pro bono raises problems for both lawyers and poor clients. For one thing, it would weigh most heavily on solo practitioners and small firms; big outfits have squads of young associates who can be assigned to satisfy pro bono requirements. And even legal-aid attorneys say simply drafting lawyers is no answer. It could lead to inadequate representation by advocates who lack the conviction or specific legal skills to defend the poor. "How much help is a divorce lawyer to a farm worker poisoned by pesticides?" asks Edward Tuddenham of the Migrant Legal Action Program in Washington.

Part of the solution to the pro bono problem is exemplified at the big Los Angeles firm Latham & Watkins, which pays its lawyers for the time they spend doing such work. Forty percent of the firm's 480 attorneys got involved last year in 107 pro bono matters, including death-penalty appeals. And at law schools there are promising signs that younger lawyers may remember duties that many of their elders have forgotten. Columbia University law students have been flocking to a program of summer legal-aid work, though it means forgoing the opportunity to make $1,200 a week or more as interns at major firms. Tulane University law school has made 20 hours of legal service a graduation requirement. And why not? asks Vice Dean Paul Barron. "Students should learn as early as possible that they've got this responsibility."

With reporting by Joelle Attinger/New York and Nancy Seufert/Los Angeles