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FROM THE EDITOR
Our Legal History This issue is an exciting one, and it is devoted to Houston’s legal history. In a city that is often accused of ignoring its past, The Houston Lawyer takes a look back at how our legal community and courts shaped how Houston grew to be the vibrant metropolis we enjoy today. Judge Mark Davidson deserves thanks for suggesting this idea in the first place, and for his tireless efforts in writing his own article about a lawsuit involving the legendary Francis Lubbock. Making the issue a family affair, Sarah Duckers, Judge Davidson’s wife, has graciously contributed an article on the first female juror in Harris County. Justice Adele Hedges updates us on the restoration of the old civil courthouse, where many of the events this issue documents took place. The entire issue is a treasure trove of information on our legal past, much of which was taken directly from the records of the Harris County District Clerk, preserved for posterity by a remarkable document preservation program. Our guest editors for this issue are John Gray of Gardere, Wynne, Sewell, L.L.P. and Linhuyen Pham of Heard & Medack, P.C. I would like to thank John and Linhuyen for their efforts, along with all of our colleagues on the board who contributed their time to writing and editing this issue. My personal connection to Houston’s legal history began as a little boy, when I spent time during holidays and family gatherings with my great-uncle, Jack Binion. Uncle Jack helped found a local law firm which became known as Butler & Binion. It grew at one time to 175 lawyers and was one of the five largest in the city. Uncle Jack served on the Texas Board of Education and once saved the Aldine Independent School District from failing to open for class when the fall semester began. According to newspaper accounts, a disputed election led to rival school boards claiming to run the district. The teachers and staff were reluctant to appear for the school year without knowing which group had authority to issue paychecks. Uncle Jack mediated the dispute and both factions agreed to authorize him to issue checks, which he did the weekend before classes began. When I think of the role we as lawyers are called upon to play as public citizens, I think of my Uncle Jack and that episode. It was written of him in 1960, “For he is impeccably gentlemanly. He is not suave or subservient, just gentlemanly in an old, old way, an easy way that has been almost forgotten.” My grandfather, Jack’s brother, could not mention his name years later without tearing up. Over the years, I have had older lawyers comment about Uncle Jack, and I have reviewed the scrapbook my Aunt Mary Emma, his sister, dutifully maintained documenting his legal career. My only direct memories are of a distinguished gentleman sitting in the corner taking in the chaos of his great-nephews and nieces. According to my mother, he played cards with Oveta Culp Hobby, the former Cabinet secretary for President Eisenhower. He poured his life into his legal legacy, as he left behind no children. I think about Uncle Jack frequently, as his portrait from Butler & Binion’s old conference room now hangs in my office. We all pour so much of ourselves into our legal careers, as he did. With his firm faded to memory, and the scrapbook clippings now yellow, his memory fades as well, with no children and grandchildren to carry on for him. His life stands as a challenge to me and a warning. I know that I have much to do to serve the public as much as he did. I can also see the price of pouring one’s entire life into this profession. With respect to Houston’s history and our penchant for forgetting it, that 1960 writer said this about Uncle Jack: “He has the gift of knowing that some old things are good and worth keeping, and that some new things are good and worth adopting...It is sad that my lawyer friend’s simple recipe is so hard for Houston to learn.” I hope that this issue does something towards helping us all learn Uncle Jack’s recipe.
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