Mentoring: Reaching Out, Giving Back
By Diane Molvig
When Susan Rosenberg was a first-year law student back in 1981, she
was invited to shadow Wisconsin Supreme Court Justice Shirley Abrahamson
for a day. Understandably, Rosenberg was a bit overwhelmed by the
experience. At the end of the day, she sat down across the desk from
Abrahamson and posed a couple of questions. "I asked, 'Why are you doing
this? How can you afford to spend an entire day with me?,'" Rosenberg
recalls. "She looked at me and said, 'Because I'm investing in the
future. Someday you'll do this for someone else.'"
Wisconsin Supreme Court Chief Justice Shirley Abrahamson invested in
the profession's future when she became Susan Rosenberg's mentor in
1981. Today, Rosenberg often finds herself on the other side of the
desk, offering guidance or sharing insights to other lawyers, whether in
her capacity as an experienced lawyer or as president of the
Milwaukee-based Association for Women Lawyers.
Photo: Steve Milanowski Harper/Fritsch Studios
True to Abrahamson's prediction, today Rosenberg often finds herself
on the other side of the desk, offering guidance or sharing insights,
whether in her capacity as an experienced lawyer or as president of the
Milwaukee-based Association for Women Lawyers,
one of the professional organizations in Wisconsin that actively fosters
mentoring among attorneys.
The concept of investing in the future, as Abrahamson put it, is at
the core of what mentoring is about. A mentor is "an experienced and
trusted friend and adviser," according to Webster's. Some would include
additional roles: counselor, guide, confidant or teacher. Whatever the
combination may be, mentoring involves the more experienced reaching out
to the less experienced. The connection might last for a day or several
years.
"The idea is to help new lawyers and law students to understand what
they need to know to be not only successful, but also comfortable in the
profession," says Margadette Demet, who chaired the Bridge the Gap
Committee that created the State Bar's Mentor Program in 1991. "I see
mentoring as very important because we have glamorized some professions
so much without giving students a picture of what it's really like out
there."
Where do new Wisconsin lawyers, or lawyers-to-be, find their mentors?
Some link up through formal programs, while others find mentors on their
own. Whatever the derivation of the relationship, "mentoring is not
hand-holding, it's hands on," points out Milwaukee attorney Leonard
Loeb, who was a key force behind founding the Wisconsin chapters of the
American Inns of Court, another mentoring organization. "New lawyers
need access to senior lawyers, so that they don't feel adrift ... and
believe it or not, it's a two-way street. When you teach, you learn more
than you teach."
A sense of camaraderie
Years ago, mentoring in the legal profession happened naturally, says
Milwaukee attorney John DeStefanis. In 1975, right out of law school, he
and a former classmate set up their practice in a downtown Milwaukee
office building that housed a number of lawyers. "They all mentored us,"
DeStefanis says. "We got advice and forms, used their books. In those
days, a young lawyer could almost always approach an older lawyer and be
warmly received, in my experience. I've never forgotten that, and I
think that's one of the reasons I was motivated to become part of the
State Bar's Mentor Program."
Such programs are vital in today's environment, says DeStefanis.
"When I started practicing 22 years ago, I think there was more
collegiality among lawyers," he explains. "That's not to say that older
lawyers are not receptive to younger lawyers today. But because of the
increased competition and the pressure to get billable hours and to use
time productively, I think a lot of younger lawyers might be afraid to
approach an older lawyer."
"When you approach a stranger and say, 'I'm a lawyer, too,' you're
not certain there's a willingness to talk to you," agrees Milwaukee
attorney Heidi Szatmary, one of DeStefanis's mentees. "So you feel
uncomfortable. But the mentoring relationship fosters a sense of
camaraderie, of sharing in a community, so that we're all getting better
as lawyers."
Szatmary, who's been out of law school for two years, calls on
DeStefanis for advice on legal questions or career direction. They both
share an interest in pro bono work, "so he's been able to point me to
resources or suggest ideas for my pro bono work that I might not have
known about because I'm just getting my feet wet," Szatmary says.
Rod Rogahn, DeStefanis's other mentee, has been out of law school
slightly more than a year. Besides his connection with DeStefanis,
Rogahn also receives mentoring within his law firm, which many of his
young colleagues aren't fortunate enough to have, he points out. "I know
some who are in practice with others, but they don't necessarily feel
they have someone to turn to," Rogahn says. "It's like that old adage
about being in a marriage, but still feeling alone."
Rogahn turns to DeStefanis for input about cases or legal issues.
"It's not as though I expect a direct answer," Rogahn says. "But he'll
give me a sense of it and tell me where to go to find specific answers."
Having a mentor is "like having an old friend out there," Rogahn adds.
"And that helps your confidence, too."
Survival skills training
Confidence building also has been a key benefit for Madison attorney
Anne Applegate-Scott in her mentoring relationship with Tom Dixon,
director of training and development for the State Public Defender's
office. She remembers an episode a few years ago when she took a private
bar assignment from the SPD that seemed headed to a jury trial. She had
never done a jury trial before. "So I called Tom one Saturday," she
recalls, "and asked if I could pick his brain for an hour."
Anne Ertel-Sawasky found her mentor, Appleton attorney Ken Podell,
constantly challenging her; equally important, Podell let Ertel-Sawasky
challenge him. She felt free to ask why, to push him to explain his
position and to let him know when she didn't agree. "I think he viewed
it as good for my development, to hone my legal thinking, and good for
him because I might think of something he'd overlooked.
The hour stretched to three hours, during which "he showed me no
signs of flagging interest," Applegate-Scott says. Dixon coached her on
how to cross-examine police officers, how to get the best information
from her witnesses, and what to do in response to the defense attorney's
tactics. "I got my trial in miniature right there in his dining room,"
she says. "That kind of help is just invaluable. It gave me not only
information but the confidence to represent my client well."
That was one occasion out of many when Applegate-Scott has turned to
her mentor for advice and not only about the law per se. She also
looks to Dixon for guidance on "how to be a whole person and practice
law at the same time," she says. The two first got to know each other
about four years ago, when she was a law student volunteering at the
Wisconsin Coalition for Advocacy, where he was a staff attorney.
Because Dixon has been there for her, Applegate-Scott says she's
"survived with minimal scars a lot of situations that I think would have
devastated other young lawyers." What's more, the relationship has
"evolved into a very nice friendship," adds Applegate-Scott, who just
had her first child. "Tom recently made a joke to an acquaintance of
mine that he was looking forward to being a vicarious grandfather. But I
think of him more like a big brother."
Like Applegate-Scott, Oshkosh attorney Alyson Zierdt believes mentors
can be instrumental in getting new lawyers through some of the early
tests and traumas. "You'd probably find your way eventually," she points
out, "but I think it would be harder and take longer."
Zierdt names Milwaukee lawyer Michael Wherry as the primary mentor in
her career. They met through local bar functions very early in her
career. "He recommended me for a committee," Zierdt recalls, "and
encouraged me, as a professional colleague, to get involved in bar
activities."
A few years later, Zierdt went to work at Wherry's firm, and he was
designated as her official in-house mentor. "The big thing I found so
valuable," Zierdt says, "was that I never felt like we were anything
other than peers. And of course we weren't peers. He'd been in practice
for 20-some years; I'd been in practice for five years. But he never
made me feel like I was a new, dumb lawyer who didn't know what I was
doing. He respected my opinion, and we had a lot of lively debates
because I didn't always agree with his opinion."
Wherry saw to it that Zierdt got work assignments that helped her
polish her skills and grow as a lawyer. But it amounted to more than
being a helpful boss or coworker. As a mentor, Wherry was "someone I
could count on to be an advocate for me in the firm," Zierdt says. "The
other thing Mike did for me was to make me believe that I could be as
good a lawyer as he."
Now that Zierdt is practicing in Oshkosh and Wherry is in Milwaukee,
they don't have as frequent contact as they did when they were down the
hall from each other. But they remain in touch by phone and get together
whenever they land in the same city. Still, Zierdt says she doesn't call
on Wherry for advice as much as she used to. And perhaps that's for the
best, she adds. One of the essential truths about mentoring is that
eventually the relationship has to move on.
"As long as your mentor is there, it's kind of your crutch," Zierdt
explains. "You always know you have that cushion behind you, and you
second-guess yourself. In the back of my mind was always the thought
that Mike would give me work. I didn't feel the pressure to be my own
rainmaker. Coming in here (the Oshkosh firm), I walked into the
proverbial clean slate. I've had to build a litigation practice from
scratch, and I've been amazed at my own skills."
"When I was getting ready to leave Davis and Kuelthau (her former
Milwaukee firm)," Zierdt adds, "one of the secretaries said to me, 'Now
you're going to be Mike Wherry.' I thought it was funny, but true in a
way, too."
Opening doors
William Boulware, now in his third year as a corporate counsel for
the Ho-Chunk Nation, also recognizes the cycles that mentoring
relationships pass through. He has occasional contact with his three
mentors Madison attorney Brian Butler, Dane County assistant
district attorney Barbara Franks and former Texas judge Thomas Gibbs
but not as often as he once did, primarily because none of his
mentors practice in Boulware's primary area: Indian law. Still, he
describes all three of his mentors as major forces in guiding him during
law school and starting out as a lawyer.
William Boulware credits Dane County assistant district attorney
Barbara Franks with letting him tag along in family court, familiarizing
him with "the nuances of how a court works. Franks is one of three
mentors Boulware looks to, including Madison attorney Brian Butler and
former Texas judge Thomas Gibbs.
Photo: Steve Milanowski Harper/Fritsch Studios
His connection with Gibbs goes back to Boulware's days of clerking at
a Houston law firm. Gibbs had stepped down from the bench and come to
work for the same firm. "We just clicked very easily," Boulware notes.
"He kept in touch with me all through law school, sending me articles,
critiquing my skills."
While a law student at the University of Wisconsin, Boulware met
Butler at a State Bar function cosponsored by the law school. "He saw my
name on the program and noticed I was a Dartmouth alum," Boulware says.
"He's also a Dartmouth alum, so he took me under his wing. He was
instrumental in providing me information and plugging me into the
system."
As for Franks, whom Boulware met through a minority lawyers' group,
Boulware credits her with letting him tag along in family court,
familiarizing him with "the nuances of how a court works," he says.
What's more, she helped "in keeping me sane and in working through a lot
of issues during law school," he adds.
Now Boulware is ready to pass on the favors others extended to him.
He recently signed up as a mentor with the State Bar's Mentor Program,
plus, through his work, he connects with young people who want to be
lawyers someday. "The shoe is definitely on the other foot," he
says.
Anne Ertel-Sawasky remembers numerous occasions when she felt her
mentor wasn't doing her any favors at all. "I can remember many times
when he gave me projects to do that made me want to tear my hair out,"
she says. "And yet, after I finished them, I'd look back and say, 'Wow,
I really grew doing that. I learned a lot.'"
Ertel-Sawasky met her mentor, Ken Podell, 10 years ago when she
graduated from law school and took a job as general counsel at Aid
Association for Lutherans (AAL), an Appleton-based insurance company.
Podell was her supervisor. Although Podell constantly challenged her,
Ertel-Sawasky says he didn't leave her floundering on her own. "His door
was always open," she notes. "I don't remember one time in 10 years that
I went in and asked him a question that he didn't put aside everything
and sit down and explain things to me."
Equally important, Podell let Ertel-Sawasky challenge him. She felt
free to ask why, to push him to explain his position and to let him know
when she didn't agree. "That wasn't a threat to him," Ertel-Sawasky
explains. "I think he viewed it as good for my development, to hone my
legal thinking, and good for him because I might think of something he'd
overlooked."
Last February Ertel-Sawasky left AAL to set up her own law practice.
She still calls Podell now and then with a question, and he's now one of
her clients. "I don't think I would have developed the kind of legal
skills I have if he hadn't been there for me," she says. "Without Ken's
mentoring, I never would have grown into the attorney I am today and
taken this major step in my career."
Feeling connected
Madison attorney Jordan Loeb grew up with a "built-in mentor," he
says, namely his father, Milwaukee lawyer Leonard Loeb. The younger Loeb
belongs to the Madison chapter of the American Inns of Court, the
organization his father helped bring to Wisconsin. "Just going to the
monthly meetings is mentoring," he explains. "We have a presentation,
there's a discussion afterwards, and we adjourn for dinner. That in and
of itself I consider to be a valuable mentoring system."
In addition, the Madison chapter pairs new lawyers or law students
with more experienced attorneys for one-on-one mentoring. That's how
Loeb became linked with his second mentor, Madison attorney and State
Bar president-elect Susan Steingass. They first were paired when Loeb
was a third-year law student four years ago, and now recently have been
rematched as mentor and mentee for the coming year. Looking back on the
first time around, Loeb says, "The value in it to me was just knowing I
had that connection. She's a very well-rounded person who has life and
law working in balance, and she was able to give me encouragement that
way."
Madison attorney Jordon Loeb found a mentor in Susan Steingass, also
a Madison attorney and State Bar president-elect. He describes Steingass
as "a very well-rounded person who has life and law working in balance,
and she was able to give me encouragement that way." Loeb also receives
encouragement from his other mentor, his father, Milwaukee attorney
Leonard Loeb.
"The other thing," he adds, "was that when I showed up at the Inns of
Court meeting as a third-year law student, intimidated, wearing the same
suit every time because it was the only suit I owned, with all these
good, flashy lawyers around, there was someone there who greeted me and
introduced me to other lawyers. Having her say hello to me in front of a
bunch of lawyers was like a confirmation that I existed."
Now that he and Steingass are matched again for the coming year, Loeb
says, "I don't have an agenda, but I imagine I will discuss with her how
my career is going, compare notes with the beginning of her career, ask
her what she thinks the good opportunities in law are right now. Who
knows?"
Like Loeb, Milwaukee lawyer Sheila Parrish-Spence had her father,
former Milwaukee County Circuit Court judge Clarence Parrish, as her
first mentor. "He had notebooks of how to do things, what to look for,"
Parrish-Spence says. For instance, "if you have a guardianship case,
these are the questions you should ask. Or if the other lawyer doesn't
ask for this, you should immediately move to dismiss. They were the
things he had to learn the hard way because no one would help him."
"I'll never forget," she adds, "just before he died [in 1992], he
said, 'You can have my scales of justice, my judge statutes, and I want
you to go into the garage and take all those notebooks.' Now I have them
in my office. They're precious; I can look up anything."
Parrish-Spence says her father also mentored her through role plays
of court proceedings, and he was only a phone call away when she needed
information or advice. Today, she says she doesn't have one exclusive
mentor, but the two Inns of Court chapters in Milwaukee that she belongs
to fulfill many of the same mentoring functions her father once did.
"Right now it's group mentoring," she explains. "But through this group
I know whom to call when I need one-on-one." Today Parrish-Spence also
mentors others, whether through connections at the Inns of Court, the
National Association of Black Women Attorneys (for which she's the
North-Central region's director) or the Wisconsin Association of
Minority Lawyers.
"The important thing to remember about mentoring," Parrish-Spence
says, "is that none of us got where we are alone. We all need to be
helped, and we all need to give help. I think that's the right thing to
do."
Dianne Molvig operates
Access Information Service, a Madison research, writing and editing
service. She is a frequent contributor to area publications.
Wisconsin Lawyer