When Boaz returned to work, winter was just around the corner. Our pre-trial hearing with Baruch Shoham took place on a wet and chilly day. Unlike the sparkling conference table in Morag’s ante chamber, Shoham’s plain table was covered with books, untidily strewn files and proofs of articles to be published in The Advocate, which he edited for our Law Society. As we entered, he raised his eyes from the document in front of him and beckoned us to sit down.
“I’m glad you are well again, Mr. Tamir,” he said warmly. “I was extremely sorry to hear about your ailment. Hepatitis is a nasty thing!”
“It is indeed, Judge,” affirmed Boaz.
“My wife had it shortly after we fled from Germany. She was down for some eight weeks! I hope medicine has made some progress since then!”
“I suppose it has. But, even so, it took me seven weeks to get over it!”
“Still, all’s well that ends well. I hope you will stick to the diet prescribed by your doctor. We must never take chances with our health! You do agree, don’t you?”
“Of course,” said Boaz, smiling gratefully.
During this brief exchange, and the next few minutes in which Shoham gathered his thoughts as he leafed through the file, my eyes moved keenly between the two men. Boaz would have resented the very same sentiments if expressed by another person in authority, such a Ehood Morag. Inwardly, he would have dubbed the speaker a patronising ass. The warm smile which had crept over his face when he answered Shoham, convinced me that no such thought had crossed his mind on this occasion.
Grinning to myself, I concluded that, like many Yekkes, Baruch Shoham had a way with people. Despite his beaked nose, inordinately long ears, bald head and nondescript countenance, he was liked and respected by everyone who worked with him. His associate doted on him and his secretary stayed behind for long hours to finish her work without expecting overtime pay. Most lawyers in Tel Aviv were delighted when their cases were set down before him. I recalled with amusement how, at the end one of his customary tirades against the ‘bloody Yekkes’, Keren added: “thank goodness there are some exceptions, like Baruch Shoham.”
In more than one way, this general esteem was surprising. To start with, Baruch Shoham was a stickler to the rules. Unlike other judges, who would occasionally use shortcuts in order to expedite hearings, Shoham believed in leaving no procedural or substantive issue unresolved. Occasionally, this was both unnecessary and pedantic. His pleasant manner alone saved him from critical comments.
The other handicap that Baruch Shoham had to overcome in order to gain the respect of the young but vigorous Israeli Bar related to his legal background. Shortly after the end of the First World War, Markus Edelstein – as he was then known – studied law and economics in Heidelberg. After two years in Berlin, he moved to Darmstadt and started to practise on his own. His business flourished but, reading the writing on the wall, he sold out in 1936 and migrated to Palestine. After years of pupillage and studies, he was called to the local Bar. By then he had acquired a sound, even if rather basic, understanding of the English common law which had been engrafted onto the Turkish Law of Palestine. The general consensus was that, notwithstanding his alien credentials, Baruch Shoham functioned efficiently in this complex legal environment. At heart, though, he remained a civilian lawyer. In his own words: “Policy must emerge from general principles. To ascertain it from an amorphous mass of rigidly construed decisions and piecemeal determinations is unscientific and unsound!”
Ordinarily, such pronouncements would have antagonised the luminaries of the local profession, most of whom had qualified after studies for the English Bar qualification. What saved Baruch Shoham from their censure was his masterful handling of all cases tried by him. Even where matters were complex and the subject of conflicting evidence, his analysis of the facts remained superb. No detail in any document, deposition, expert’s report or testimony escaped his attention. And his ability to get to the heart of the matter was phenomenal. It was, generally, thought that this flair made up for certain shortcomings in his analysis of fine points of law.
When Shoham raised his eyes from the Omri Tal file, he smiled warmly at both of us. “I don’t think you left any point uncovered, Gentlemen. And I am relieved to note that the parties have agreed on a fifty-fifty apportionment of liability. We’ll save at least one morning this way. But may I make one suggestion?”
“Please, Judge” said Boaz.
“Well, both of you have been meticulous in asking for and providing ‘further particulars’. I am, of course, all in favour: the issues have crystallises and we’ll have no surprises during the trial. But I think it would be for the best if all the additional details were incorporated in a single of amended pleadings. This way we shall not have to rove from document to document as we go. What do you say?”
“The thought has crossed our minds,” Boaz volunteered. “We were going to raise it with you.”
“Splendid. Will two weeks do? You can always come back to me if you are unable to meet the deadline.”
“What do you think, Eli” asked Boaz.
“It’s fine with me.”
“Good,” said Shoham. “The next point I want to raise concerns the reports of the two orthopaedic surgeons. Both conclude that the plaintiff’s progress ought to be monitored. Although the ‘extent of the injury’ is determined as at the time of the accident, the reports confirm that, in our case, the extent of the injuries sustained can be assessed only after a review of the healing process, which varies from person to person. Well, what do you say?”
“Again, Judge, Eli and I are of the same view. But we have a practical problem. The two surgeons who provided the reports are no longer available. Ours migrated to Canada and Rotem’s man retired for reasons of health. We are trying to find another surgeon, acceptable to both parties. But the three we’ve approached turned us down flat!”
“Have you tried Dr. Alon Shaked?”
“He was our first choice,” said Boaz.
“His receptionist was rather curt!” I grumbled.
“We may get a different response if I ask Alon Shaked to act as ‘Court’s Expert’. This way he’ll be cross examined only if his report gives rise to controversy. Well, shall I ask my associate to approach him?”
Boaz was supportive. “Please do, Judge. Do you think it might, perhaps, be possible to prevail on Dr. Shaked to submit his report in eight copies?”
“That,” said Shoham sadly, “might be the last straw! I suspect many surgeons and physicians refuse to assist us because they hate to get their reports typed, proof read and retyped. But I have another suggestion. A few days ago a new photographic shop opened up in Herzl Street. They use a very modern method. You can get any number of prints within 24 hours. The price is somewhat higher than we are used to but, then, you have to pay for progress. Do you think this will do?”
“I’m sure it will,” I stepped in. “If, perhaps, your associate could ring me when you get the report, I’ll take it to the shop. I’m sure our clients will be prepared to defray the expenses subject to the order of costs to be made subsequently.”
“That’s fine with me,” agreed Boaz gratefully.
“Splendid. And, Gentlemen, you will be interested to know that, before long, problems concerning the production of copies of documents will become a thing of the past! Copies will be produced readily on the premises of every law office and commercial firm!”
“How?” I wanted to know.
“According to an American magazine, a new photographic technology will be announced soon. It will enable us to make a copy of a typed or written page by feeding it through the ‘camera’, without first producing a ‘negative’. The entire procedure will take less than 10 seconds per page!”
“It will revolutionise office practice!” said I.
“It will. But its introduction will also trigger fresh work for law offices!”
“Why?”
“At present you hand your judge a ‘List of Authorities’ just before the trial begins. He has to read them in the library or get his long-suffering associate to haul the books to his Chambers. How long will it take before judges demand that law offices ‘reproduce’ all the authorities cited?”
“True,” agreed Boaz. “But that manual work can be done by a secretary!”
“Quite so,” nodded Shoham. “But her boss will have to check that nothing has been left out! But, now, we must turn back to the matter presently before us. Mr. Berger, I understand Frau Hod is no longer with your firm. Are you going to represent Rotem at the trial?”
“Not on this occasion, Judge. Mr. Keren has asked Hannah Hod to carry on with this case. But I do hope I shall have the pleasure of appearing before you, in Court, on some future occasion.”
“The pleasure will be mine,” smiled Shoham. “And I shall, of course, be pleased to see Frau Hod in Court this time. So can we perhaps fix the date?”
“I hope it can be heard soon after we have Dr. Shaked’s report, Judge,” said Boaz. “My client proposes to move to Be’er Sheva as soon as the hearing is finished.”
“Well, we sure ought to try to accommodate him. Will a date early in March be suitable? If the plaintiff sees Alon Shaked next week, we’ll receive the report before the end of this month.”
“The first week of March is fine for us,” said Boaz.
“I’ll have to check with Hannah Hod. But, as far as I know, she has no other trial at that time. May I suggest we pencil the dates in, subject to my confirming with her?”
“Excellent. So we are all set.