Face Value by Michael A. Kahn

it was far more efficient for St. Louis firms to focus their recruiting efforts on St. Louis law schools and the University of Missouri in Columbia. Thus it was best to appoint a hiring chair who could connect to those students.
    Dick Neeler was the ideal choice. First, his persona was just right: he was a relentlessly affable and totally nonthreatening balding guy in his late thirties who had started his career at Warner & Olsen as a summer clerk and was absolutely convinced that there was no finer law firm on the planet. He reminded you of the rush chair at a college fraternity, which is actually what he had been, according to one of the framed photos on his wall. Just as important, Dick Neeler had the right academic pedigree for the job. He was a graduate of the Washington University School of Law, taught an advanced trademark seminar at St. Louis University, and was a fanatic Mizzou sports fan, having gone there as an undergrad. He was a past president of the Tiger Club of St. Louis and drove a custom gold-and-black Lexus with University of Missouri alumni license plates.
    Neeler was, in short, the perfect tool for getting the law firm’s higher-ups to approve the Sari Bashir tribute video proposal. Better yet, he was sufficiently clueless to serve as the figurehead for the project without ever suspecting any ulterior motive.
    â€œThis is super,” Neeler said. “A beautiful homage to her and, frankly, a terrific opportunity for the firm. Great idea, Rachel.”
    I gestured toward Jerry Klunger, whose massive body was squeezed into the chair on my right. “Jerry is a big part of this.”
    â€œNice work, big man,” Neeler said, pronouncing it big mon , for some reason that he must have assumed sounded hip.
    Jerry blushed. “Thank you, Mr. Neeler.”
    â€œAnd obviously,” I said, nodding toward Benny, “the law school is on board.”
    â€œProfessor,” Neeler said, pointing his index finger at Benny and giving him a wink, “you da man.”
    Benny simply nodded, his expression neutral. To say I’d been nervous about bringing him to this meeting was an understatement. I’d tried to make Benny understand that his assessment of Neeler—“a total fucking douchebag”—was actually a good thing for us. But Benny has what charitably could be described as filter issues—issues that date back at least to his infamous deposition incident when we were both young associates at Chicago’s Abbott & Windsor. He had gotten fed up with opposing counsel’s constant objections. Finally, after yet another objection, Benny got to his feet, leaned across the table, and informed his opponent on the record : “If you open that pie hole of yours one more time today, Norman, I am going to rip off your head and shit in your lungs.” That portion of the deposition transcript became Exhibit A to the other side’s motion for sanctions, and, ultimately, an urban legend of the Chicago Bar.
    Neeler said, “Oh, boy, this really hits a home run with our diversity goals, too. A tribute for an Arab associate. Like, wowie wow wow, eh?”
    â€œShe was an American citizen,” I said.
    â€œSure, but she was also Muslim. Allah and all that nutty stuff. It works. Believe me, it works like a charm. Allah akbar.”
    With his nodding and grinning and rocking back and forth, all Neeler needed was a yarmulke and tallis to pass for a crazed Orthodox Jew at prayer.
    â€œSo her father’s already on board, eh?” Neeler asked.
    â€œI spoke with him yesterday,” I said. “He was touched by the idea. He wants to help. He said he would ask Sari’s relatives to participate, too.”
    â€œThat is totally awesome, Rachel. Totally!”
    He leaned back in his chair, smiling. “If we can have this video ready before the hiring season next fall, think of the killer PR for the firm. And not just locally. We can have our marketing