Up on the mountain top. And back down.

In 1994, Gerry Spence started a college at his ranch in Wyoming for trial lawyers "for the people." He wanted lawyers who represented injured plaintiffs and criminal defendants. I don't really remember how I heard about the college, given that the Internet was still something of a novelty, but I remember thinking that I wanted to be a people lawyer. I wrote a big ol' essay and applied to the Trial Lawyers College.

The college was 6 weeks long, and I wasn't sure how I would get time off work to go. I never had to solve that problem. I wasn't selected. Probably for the best. I was a baby lawyer, barely knowing come here from sic 'em. I was disappointed, but I survived. I won some cases over the next few years and convinced myself that the college had missed out on an opportunity to get me, not the other way around.

I have matured, I hope. Had I died in 1994, my epitaph would have read "often in error, seldom in doubt." I am now unsure about lots of things, and that doesn't include the stuff that I can't remember.

The college also matured. The program was shortened to less than 4 weeks. An alternative path to graduation emerged, allowing lawyers who couldn't maneuver three solid weeks in Wyoming to spread the study over seven long weekend courses instead.

Two years ago, my professional career was at a low point. I lost a trial that shocked me, for a client who I knew deserved justice. On top of that, I closed in on my fiftieth birthday. I was questioning whether it was time for a career change. Instead of the typical red mid-life crisis convertible, I started the Trial Lawyers College seven step program.

The first step was a week at Thunderhead Ranch in Wyoming. This past week, I spent another week at the Ranch and graduated. It has been a longer journey than the two years would make one think.

It is intimidating, even for a Middle Aged Legal Guy, to be surrounded by amazing lawyers. I don't mean those with big verdicts, because I have yet to hear a single money or verdict brag by TLC members. I mean lawyers who defend the accused in horrible situations, or take up an injury victim's case against long odds. Lawyers who are innovative thinkers and great speakers. Most of all, lawyers who are selfless with their time and talents and share with the rest of us for no pay. You can't swing a dead cat without hitting an amazing lawyer at TLC. Trust me on this one and leave the cats alone.

Last week, we were joined by storytellers from the Moth. Storytelling is the heart of the trial lawyer's art, making these folks our closest nonpayer relatives. They could make the back of a soup can into a compelling story. I may be fudging a bit, but humor me, Gentle Reader.

I am still a bit giddy from the graduation ceremony. Hundreds have graduated the college, but only a few dozen have done it the seven step way. I graduated with two folks who started my journey with me. I can't tell you about the secret handshake or magic bird call, but trust me, the final ceremony was beautiful.

One of the mountains on the ranch is called Spence Mountain. Gerry used to walk up it every day, until he was well past seventy years old. Or so we are told. I made the trek two or three times my first week at the ranch. At the top is a pile of rocks, and each climber adds another - rocks are cheaper than a plaque, but given lawyers' love for plaques, I am seeing a retirement project in my future.

The walk itself is challenging. We do it at six in the morning after working till ten or so the previous night which adds to the difficulty. The thin air bullies flatlanders.

I climbed the mountain every day of graduation week. In part for the exercise, but mostly to follow where my fellow trial lawyers have gone. Following in their footsteps, literally and figuratively, makes me feel less alone. Part of a tribe. Besides, the views are spectacular.

Saturday afternoon, I was ready to come home, emotionally, mentally, and physically exhausted. The four-hour layover and two-hour mechanical delay at the airport in Salt Lake City didn't help.

Monday morning, I faced a mountain of mail, faxes and deposition transcripts where I remembered leaving my desk. Evidently, the rest of the world didn't understand that I had been gone for a week. When I left the office at 11 p.m. Monday night, I was still exhausted. Mountains are much easier to climb in the morning. Or maybe mountains just remind me how small I am.

Under Analysis is a nationally syndicated column of the Levison Group. Spencer Farris is the founding partner of The S.E. Farris Law Firm in St Louis, Missouri and recent graduate of the Trial Lawyers College - you heard it here first! Comments or criticisms about this column may be sent c/o this newspaper or directly to the Levison Group via email at farris@farrislaw.net.

© 2015 Under Analysis L.L.C.

Published: Fri, Sep 04, 2015