Today, I traveled to Knoxville to attend the memorial service for Steve Cox, hands down the most important mentor in my professional life. Steve died on March 3, 2021, a little more than a month ago, at age 77. It meant a lot to me to be there, today, to hug Steve's wife, Jeanette, and pay my respects to the man who taught me how to practice law.
I've often said, half jokingly, that the only reason I was offered a job as a summer clerk and later, as a lawyer, at Manier, Herod is because I was (and am) a softball pitcher.
When Jay Stapp interviewed me on campus in Knoxville, in 1992, during my second year in law school, his eyes lit up when I told him I played softball and that I pitched. Why? Because softball - the Nashville Bar Association softball league, specifically - was big at Manier, Herod and huge with Steve Cox, who was a member of the firm's executive committee and the partner who ran the litigation department. Jay had pitched for several years but was leaving the law firm and he knew, I think, that Steve would be pleased that he had found his replacement.
I clerked for Manier, Herod in the summer of 1992, played softball for the firm team, and got an offer to join the firm the following year when I graduated in May 1993. I have no doubt, none at all, that Steve Cox insisted the firm hire me and, of course, they did. I stayed in Knoxville that summer and sat for the bar exam in late July, then started my job at Manier, Herod in August 1993. Later, in October, I got my bar results - I passed - and my legal career began in earnest.
For almost a year, I did workers' compensation defense work for another partner in the firm. He and I weren't the best fit and at Steve Cox's request, I moved into the general litigation department and worked directly for him doing insurance defense work. The lawyers in Steve's group were tight - Steve, Mark Levan, Paul Sprader, and Benton Patton. Steve looked out for us, stuck together as a group, and, as I think about it now, kind of had our own thing in a firm of 45 or so lawyers.
Steve was an incredibly gifted trial lawyer. Although he worked almost exclusively as an insurance defense lawyer, for a long time he had the distinction of winning the largest jury verdict for a plaintiff in personal injury case in Williamson County history at more than three million dollars. A lawyer I worked with watched Steve's closing argument in that case and was awestruck.
Steve had an innate ability to connect with the jury on a very personal level. He always said, modestly, that he just told juries the truth. It was a lot more than that, however. Steve had a great sense of humor. He made you feel comfortable in is presence. He was able to break a case down - simplify it - in a way that his position made sense and was easy to understand. Steve wasn't handsome, far from it. He didn't dazzle a jury with his presentation. To me, he was everyman, and the jury related to that. He was one of them.
Steve and I had a lot in common. We both loved University of Tennessee football and basketball. So many times, I sat in his office as we dissected the football game the previous Saturday or the latest recruiting news. This, of course, was in the pre-internet days, so we always kept each other up to date on anything we had learned from a source, however unreliable, about football recruiting.
We were both stubborn to a fault. We were both incredibly strong willed, as a result of which we butted heads sometimes. I think Steve wanted his trial lawyers to be confident, though, and sure of themselves, so he always gave me some latitude and let me say my piece or voice my opinion, even when I didn't know what the hell I was talking about.
Steve and I both loved to have fun. I can still hear his laugh - a cackle, really, is the only way to describe it. I'll always be able to hear that laugh.
At two low points in my life, Steve was there for me. When Ann and were getting divorced, Steve was the first person at work that I told about it. When I walked into his office to tell him, he looked up with a smile, saw my face, and said, "close the door and tell me what's going on."
As I sat down, he pulled out a cigarette - Pall Mall unfiltered, as I recall - lit it and leaned back in his chair and listened as I poured my heart out. He told me things were going to be okay. He told me who, in the office, I needed to tell first. Quite simply, he was there for me at my lowest point, and for that I'll be eternally grateful. His advice, his words of wisdom, were spot on and, of course, he was right. I was okay.
The Sunday afternoon when I pitched Manier, Herod to its first Nashville Bar Association softball tournament title is memory I'll always cherish. We sent Steve onto the field to get the trophy. As he turned to us and held it up, he had tears in his eyes. He was so competitive, just like Benton Patton and me, and winning that damn softball tournament meant everything to him. Winning the softball tournament and making Steve proud meant everything to us. Steve saved that 1st place trophy, and several others that we won in later years, and kept them in his office.
When I told Steve I was leaving Manier, Herod to start my own law firm in Franklin, in 1998, he was disappointed, but completely supportive of me. I always appreciate that, of course. Later, he mediated for me on occasion, whenever I had a personal injury case. He always laughed and shook his head when I told him about all of the divorce work I was doing.
After Steve retired and moved to Knoxville, we lost touch with each other. I regret, deeply, that I didn't do a better job staying in contact with him the last few years. I wish like hell I would have called him monthly just to tell him my latest crazy story from my practice, or about our office, or just to talk Tennessee football or basketball.
We had a lot of good times at Manier, Herod in the '90's and almost all of them involved Steve. In many ways, he was the heart and soul of the firm, or at least of the 21st floor in the Dominion Bank/First Union Bank building, where all of the litigators worked. The first five years of a lawyer's professional life are the most memorable, I think. After that, they kind of run together.
I remember my years at Manier, Herod, and my time with Steve Cox, like they were yesterday.
Rest in peace, Steve. I'll never forget you.
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