TIME: Almanac 1993/TIME Almanac 1993.iso/time/031692/0316201.000

Text File | 1992-08-28 | 5.6 KB | 116 lines

                                                                                BUSINESS, Page 52

TRIALS

A Lawyer's Precipitous Fall from Grace


Harvey Myerson faces as much as 20 years on charges of swindling
$3.5 million

By RICHARD BEHAR


    Short, chunky and menacingly combative, Harvey Myerson is
one of the country's most talented trial lawyers. But according
to charges that will be heard in Brooklyn's federal courthouse
next week, he is also one of the most tainted. After building a
reputation representing the likes of Donald Trump, Shearson
Lehman and former Treasury Secretary William Simon, Myerson
stands accused of swindling $3.5 million from clients and
partners and faces as much as 20 years in prison. Said
prosecutor Sean O'Shea after the initial indictment last year:
"We have here an unprecedented pattern of greed and dishonesty
by a lawyer at the top of his profession."

    For Myerson, 52, the charges signal a precipitous fall
from grace. And as in Greek tragedy, his fate seems the result
of a fundamental character flaw. Despite a hefty draw of $1.4
million from his $400-an-hour rate at the prestigious New York
law firm of Myerson & Kuhn, Myerson's profligate life-style --
featuring Ferraris and Rolls-Royces, five homes, 20th century
art and foot-long Cuban cigars -- called for even more. In 1988,
for example, Myerson took family members on a chartered-jet
vacation to Maine -- and allegedly billed client Shearson Lehman
(without the firm's knowledge) for the trip.

    But Myerson apparently saved his best treats for a string
of mistresses. In 1989 a top New York model joined him at the
Kentucky Derby. According to the indictment, clients Kelley Oil
and ICN Pharmaceuticals picked up the tab. Another model
received an $86,000 Cartier ring and a $24,000 full-length mink,
courtesy of Myerson's unsuspecting law partners. To attract
prospective lovers, sources say, Myerson liked to pose as a
movie producer and "audition" young agency models in his office.
"To Myerson, there is just no distinction between persuading a
jury and persuading his wife or clients or partners of
something," says a former partner.

    In the courtroom, Myerson has been a master at proving
deception in others, regularly badgering witnesses into
submission and throwing himself shamelessly at juries. "Please
God, find for us. God bless you," he begged jurors at the 1986
conclusion of his most famous case, an antitrust action brought
by the upstart U.S. Football League against the monopolistic
practices of the National Football League. Myerson and the
U.S.F.L. won -- but they received a humiliating $3 in damages
and the lesson that even courtroom victories are no guarantee
of riches.

    The son of a Philadelphia silk wholesaler, Myer son made
his mark in the 1970s at the venerable New York law firm of
Webster & Sheffield. But his craving for power and wealth caused
constant friction with partners, many of whom were relieved when
Myerson was wooed away in 1984 by Finley, Kumble, an aggressive
700-lawyer firm that became synonymous with '80s-style greed.

    In late 1987, not long after Myerson emerged as the firm's
key partner, Fin ley collapsed into bankruptcy amid power
clashes, soaring salaries and strangling debt. In his vengeful
1990 book, Conduct Unbecoming, former partner Steven Kumble tags
Myerson as the main culprit in the breakup, partly because he
squandered money. "Harvey is a compulsive spender, and to some
degree he can't control it," explains Kumble. Myerson was
equally obsessed with his looks. "Harvey had a series of
toupees, of different lengths, that looked like old Knute Rockne
football helmets," Kumble recalls. "He'd keep changing them and
then at the end of the month announce that he needed a haircut."

    In 1988 Myerson decided he could build another Finley-size
business overnight. His pal William Simon introduced him to
former baseball commissioner Bowie Kuhn, who accepted a $500,000
annual draw largely for lending his conservative name to the
shingle. Myerson & Kuhn soon boasted 170 lawyers, but the firm
had to borrow just to pay its high-profile partners, and
Myerson's spending habits worsened the crunch. By 1989 the
partnership was in Chapter 11.

    With Wall Street awash in big fees during the past decade,
it was no surprise that so many otherwise savvy lawyers kept
signing up with Myerson, even after the Finley debacle. The law
firms he was associated with are symbolic of what New York
University law ethics professor Stephen Gillers calls "the new
disloyalty," which swept the profession in the '80s. "Harvey has
to be pathological to have told so many lies so constantly,"
says former law partner Leon Marcus. "He was always trying to
prove he was bigger and better than everyone else. But I wish
they didn't indict him. He's dead already. Who the hell would
hire him now?"

    Myerson denies all charges, but his prospects of remaining
a free man look slim. Several of the lawyers who aided Myerson
in his scams have agreed to testify against him in exchange for
immunity. Even if his upcoming defense is successful, Myerson
faces two additional indictments: one for billing clients for
the imaginary legal services of his brother-in-law (who is not
an attorney); and the other for defrauding banks in order to buy
a $1.75 million mansion in Key West, Fla., that may soon be
seized by the feds. With his legal career a shambles, Myerson
can still count on one major client: himself. He plans to argue
his own case, in what should be the most challenging
performance of his life.