‘TWAS THE HOLIDAY season in New Hampshire, the time when pictures of New England spires and tiny villages appeared on greeting cards throughout the country, and snow-draped evergreens greeted tourists at every ski resort and grand hotel in the northern reaches of the state. To the outsider, New Hampshire was the picture of prosperity and good cheer, and a repository for nostalgic visions of life as it had been and ought to be again.

To the resident populace, the period between Thanksgiving and New Year’s was a time to adjust to gathering darkness and gloom. The air was cold and often damp. The sun was so rarely seen that it was cause for excited comment when it did appear. Stores made valiant attempts to project cheer and consumer confidence, but the average person still held on to most of his or her holiday money until it was absolutely necessary to spend it. At this time of year, the end of the world was easy to contemplate, and careful New England folk chose not to risk spending for a holiday that might not arrive.

On one particular late afternoon in December, it seemed to Cindee Carter, a devoted advocate at the Pro Bono Program, as if every lawyer in New Hampshire had settled into the bah-humbug phase of winter. She had spent the entire day searching for one lawyer willing to help one woman with three children keep her shelter, the case was compelling, the client was desperate; surely someone would say yes. All Cindee heard, however, were excuses and stories about end-of-year obligations to existing clients, staff vacations stressing firms, and out-of- state commitments over the holidays. Sighing, Cindee thought, "I just wish there were a way to show them…."

Cindee turned out the light and closed the door to her office. A cold wind had just arisen; it was from the east, a most unusual direction for a winter wind, and it brought a sense of foreboding with its chill.

Late that night, a shadow settled over the Bar Association’s computer database of practicing lawyers in New Hampshire. Slowly, steadily, the shadow absorbed two different lists of very specific names and addresses, based on the year of admittance to the bar….

As the dim light of morning joined the cacophony of alarm clocks or shrieking babes in the homes of young lawyers throughout the state, every lawyer under 40 shivered in bed, covers pulled up to the chin, and tried to make sense of a dream so real and so wrenching that the prospect of arising to an ordinary day in an ordinary world seemed impossible. The dream was the same in every lawyerly brain. On awakening, each dreamer remembered holding a small snow globe, shaking it for the amusement of watching white flakes tumble over the figures affixed to the floor of the globe. Each dreamer became aware that a woman, dark-eyed and pale, was staring out of the globe. In her arms was a tiny child, still and blue from the cold. Two other children peered out from under her ragged coat. They had no gloves or hats. Their shoes were covered with plastic bags to keep out the moisture, but of course the cold penetrated the flimsy canvas of their sneakers. They, too, stared out at the dreaming lawyer. Suddenly, the mother’s hand extended out to the holder. "Help me," she said in a flat voice, as if she expected nothing, "Help my children." The unexpected movement and sound nearly caused the globe to fall, but each and every dreamer held on tight. The images faded…and the shadow moved on.

Struggling to shake the effects of the dream, virtually every lawyer found reasons why such a dream could never be a reality in this fair state. After all, there were advocates whose jobs included preserving income, benefits, and housing for poor people. These people were paid to do that work. Not only that, but they liked doing it. They were good at it. They knew the systems, the resources, the specialized laws around housing and benefits. They knew how to talk to poor people, too. There was no need for alarm, no need to feel responsible, no need at all. Resolving to put a dollar into the next Salvation Army kettle seen on the street, each lawyer dressed and went off to work. Still, several made spontaneous calls to Cindee, just on the off chance that some quick little Pro Bono case might be available.

Cindee placed the case of the mother and three children that day. For reasons she certainly did not understand, seven or eight people actually called her back from her previous day’s round of fruitless calls. She not only placed that case, she also found several others and placed them, as well. She shrugged her shoulders, smiled and accepted the windfall. Perhaps winter wouldn’t be as long and cold as she had expected.

Part II

A few days passed. Several other lawyers called Cindee offering to take cases, but then the numbers waned again. Cindee was back to begging. As she ended a particularly disappointing day, all she could think was, "There must be a way to reach them."

Parties were common at this time of year. The third weekend in December was especially busy, as the end of the year drew nearer. Law partners started thinking about January’s business meetings, hashing out the financial affairs from the prior year, making the cuts, fighting the ugly fights of the compensation wars. December was for exchanging good will and shoring up relationships in hopes that some of those ties would carry through the stark days of fiscal and personnel decisions ahead. Even the smallest firms, despite their closer relationships, dreaded the January reckoning.

Members of the Bar whose football knees were catching up to them, whose wisdom now exceeded their physical prowess, and whose children were taller or smarter or at the very least more technologically advanced than they, were pulling into home driveways at respectably-late-but-not-imprudent hours on the Saturday before Christmas. None had consumed caffeine in the last several hours, those who drank wine had done so moderately and no political arguments had advanced to the angry stage. Therefore, all were assured of a rapid descent into comfortable sleep. Except….

The shadow moved over the houses of the middle-aged, drawing each lawyer back to an era when this group knew that with good intentions, dedication and the right political philosophy, they could end war, hunger and privation. They knew they had the power, the energy and the commitment to bring this country into a time of peace and harmony.

An entire generation of middle-aged New Hampshire lawyers was sitting up in bed, staring. Not a one was sleeping as soundly as expected. All were gazing straight ahead, as if they were seeing a private movie playing out on the walls of their bedrooms. No eyes could turn from the drama unfolding there.

To be continued . . .

Waiver of Court Fees: When referrals are made, "Notice of Indigency" letters directed to the appropriate court are sent out for Pro Bono-qualified clients.

Depositions: Free transcription services for depositions in Pro Bono cases.

Litigation Expenses: Reimbursement up to $25 for out-of-pocket expenses.

Malpractice Insurance: Primary or secondary professional liability insurance can be provided through the Pro Bono Referral Program.

Mentors: Pro Bono links newer attorneys or attorneys new to the practice area of their Pro Bono case with more experienced practitioners.

Pensions/Tax/Financial: Referrals can be made to CPAs for assistance with tax, pension and other financial matters in Pro Bono cases.

Real Estate Appraisals: Volunteer real estate appraisers will provide free appraisals when needed.

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