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Welcome Message from the President
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Buying a Law Library
When I retired as president of Cooley Law school in 2002, the board of directors graciously named the school’s law library in my honor. By mid 2004, the Brennan Law Library celebrated a milestone. Its collection exceeded a half million volumes, putting it in a category with the most prestigious law schools in the country.
Hearing the good news, I could not help but recall the humble beginnings of that impressive educational resource.
I can’t remember the date. It was probably some time in late 1972 or early 1973. I was in my office at the supreme court when my secretary, Marianne Farhat, ushered in a visitor. His name was Jim Lytle, and he was a representative of the nation’s largest publisher of law books, the West Publishing Company of Saint Paul, Minnesota.
Jim congratulated me on my efforts to start a law school in Lansing. “Of course, you know that you are going to have to have a complete law library,” Jim observed, smiling like a ten year old on Christmas morning.
I acknowledged the fact. Then I dug into my desk drawer and pulled out a booklet published by th American Bar Association, describing in detail the books that accredited law schools are required to have in their libraries.
“Go through this list,” I told him, “and I’ll buy every book on the list that West Publishing Company publishes.” Jim’s grin widened.
“I have only one condition, “ I added.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“Nothing on the front end, “said I. “No down payment. I’ll sign anything, promise anything, but not one penny up front.”
“No problem,” Jim replied. “Your credit’s good with me, Judge.”
And so it was that Jim wrote up an order for $80,000 worth of law books, which I signed. He left the office in a jolly mood. Some days being a salesman is fun.
Several weeks went by before I heard from Jim again. This time he came into my office in a much more serious mood. “We’ve got a little problem, Judge,” he began. “The home office won’t honor the contract without some earnest money.”
“Hold on, Jim,” I said. “Remember what I told you the day you took the order. Nothing up front. Nadya. Zip. Zero. No down payment. No earnest money. The law school just doesn’t have anything to give you, and neither do I.”
“I know. I know,” said Jim. “But Saint Paul wants a deposit or it’s no deal.” He sat there across the desk from me, silently waiting for my reaction. I said nothing. Just looked at him, shaking my head back and forth. Finally, he leaned forward, with an air of confidentiality, and almost in a whisper, said, “Not to worry, Judge. I was planning to make a contribution to the law school anyway. I’ll just write a check to Cooley for a thousand dollars. You endorse it to West Publishing and I’ll turn it in for the earnest money.” The idea sounded fair enough to me. He wrote the check, I signed it, and he left.
The books didn’t arrive until the Fall. But that time, we had acquired an interest in the old Masonic Temple on Capitol Avenue. Peter Kempel, our head librarian insisted that it would take weeks to unpack the books, label them and arrange them on shelves. I was far too eager to establish a working library to tolerate such a pace. We had lined the basement of the temple with used metal shelves. It was time to put the books in place.
I visited the Campbell Class, our first day school class. I announced that they were going on a field trip. We marched 75 students from the classroom building at 507 South Grand Avenue to the Temple building. A production line was established, as boxes were torn open, books unwrapped, stamped as the property of the law school and promptly assigned to the shelves. Within hours, Cooley had a library of more than 10,000 volumes.
All we needed then were library tables and chairs. The chairs were purchased at Peter Kempel’s recommendation. They were of the sturdy, oak, straight back variety. Not awfully comfortable, but virtually indestructible. The tables were another do-it-yourself project. Supervised by my brother Ray, a volunteer force of family and friends covered birch doors with Formica, attached four metal legs to each one and set them around he room. It was beginning to look like a real library.
It was not until some years later that I learned that West Publishing Company paid their salesmen a 20 percent commission. Jim Lytle’s generous donation to Cooley still left him with a handsome profit. Like I said, some days being a salesman is fun.
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This Page was last updated on:
08/19/2004