Minnesota Lawyer Blog

I just got around to reading "Schulz and Peanuts: A Biography" by David Michaelis. I would highly recommend this meticulously researched view of Charles Schulz, the genius of the funny pages who, as our readers well know, hailed from right here in Minnesota.

There aren't a lot of lawyers in the book. There is reference to his highly public divorce (It won't be for "Peanuts," one radio commentator quipped at the time.) And, of course, there is a lot of copyright law floating in the background -- though no juicy IP disputes mentioned in the book. ("Rats!" as Charlie Brown would say.)

I suspect if a Schulz clone started something similar today it would spawn plenty of work for lawyers -- particularly given that Schulz based the names and characteristics of many of the characters on real people he knew. You'd probably have to add to each strip one of those lengthy disclaimers stating any resemblance to any real people is strictly coincidental -- completely ruining the comic flow. ("Good grief!")

In any event, I was trying to figure out which "Peanuts" character was the most likely to grow up to be a lawyer. I would have to give it to Lucy -- assuming that whole psychiatry thing doesn't work out for her. With the speed with which she charges Charlie Brown a nickle for her advice, she definitely has the concept of the billable hour down pat.

I recently had an interesting experience that has left me scratching my head, and, to be honest, a little annoyed.

I received in the mail a copy of Terence MacCarthy's book -- MacCarthy on Cross-Examination -- published by the American Bar Association. I was familiar with MacCarthy, having seen him make a presentation at Minnesota CLE's Criminal Justice Institute in Bloomington a couple of months ago.

As the editor of Minnesota Lawyer, I frequently get books sent to me by authors who hope we might review it or at least mention it in our paper. I assumed that this book, which arrived without explanation, fell into that category. Having no plan to read or review it, I nearly pitched it into the recycle bin. Fortunately, I did not.

The next day I received a bill from the ABA for $147.90, representing $129.95 for the book and another $17.95 for shipping. First of all, $129.95 strikes me as a bit excessive for a 220-page soft-cover book with absolutely no art work. And, given that it wasn't even the size of John Grisham novel, it seemed nervy for the ABA to charge me more than $17.95 to put it in an envelope and send it to me. At that price, I would expect it to be personally delivered to me by somebody in a gorilla suit.

I called the ABA -- and after wasting several minutes in Muzak land waiting to be connected to an actual human being -- I was able to talk with an someone. She was pleasant enough. When I said I had erroneously received and been billed for an ABA book, she asked me immediately, "Was it the McCarthy book?" I said that it was, and she told me that she would send me a return label so that I could send it back and not be charged.

Apparently, MacCarthy mistakenly told everyone at the CLE the book would be free when he passed around a sign-up sheet at the CLE. (At least that's what Minnesota CLE says in an explanatory letter I just received.)

I am feeling inconvenienced and somewhat peeved. When I do get around to sending the over-priced book back, I am toying with the idea of charging the ABA $17.95 for my "handling" costs to see how they like it ....