Due Justice

Chapter 9

Tampa, Florida

Thursday 5:00 p.m.

January 7, 1999

The Federal Rules subcommittee of the local chapter of the Federal Bar Association, a committee I’ve been on for a number of years, was scheduled to meet this month at the offices of one of our newer members, Charles Smyth. Instead of taking the time to get my car, I asked Margaret to call another committee member for a ride. It really hadn’t registered with me where the meeting would be held until we arrived at the Landmark Tower offices of Able, Barnes & Worthington, where Smyth is a junior partner. Able and Bennett are dead. Elliott O’Connell Worthington is the senior partner here.

The Landmark Tower building, the most expensive office space in Tampa, sits at the corner of Florida and Jackson and takes up an entire city block. It is one of the newer “A” buildings in downtown Tampa, and it’s the most architecturally interesting. The building is over 40 stories high and topped by a white lighted dome. The dome’s lights are changed to red and green for Christmas and red, white and blue for the fourth of July. It’s easily seen for miles around after dark, and finding your way back to town is not as difficult as it used to be before the building went up.

The walk to the front door is lined with grey granite pillars and in the lobby sits a larger than life size, multicolored metal sculpture of Don Quixote on his horse. This was the first time I had ever been in the building and it certainly had all the indicia of high-priced real estate.

The offices of Able, Bennett & Worthington were on the top four floors. As the elevator whizzed up, I was reminded of my lunch. After a 35 second ride, the elevator doors opened onto the lobby--less than one second per floor. I stepped out into the lobby the same way cartoon characters leave an out of control carousel.

I’ve been in some extravagant law offices but it’s not an exaggeration to say that the lobby of AB&W, as it’s known around town, was the most ostentatious lawyers’ lobby I’ve ever seen. The floor was granite in three colors, with “AB&W” inlaid under foot. Windows at right angles gave one the feeling of standing on air outside, 420 feet above the ground.  Glass walls allowed a floor-to-ceiling view of the Port of Tampa, Harbour Island, Davis Island, Plant Key and the Bayshore on the south side and the city, the University of Tampa and north Tampa opposite. The office was furnished in museum-quality antiques, the likes of which George’s Aunt Minnie would have been proud to own.

The receptionist was a statuesque blonde Barbie look-alike selected for her acting ability. She played the receptionist part perfectly. When we entered the lobby, she greeted us both by name, said we’d been expected and someone would be out to escort us to the meeting shortly.

After about sixty seconds, Smyth’s secretary, another exceedingly attractive and briskly competent greeter, escorted us to the meeting in the main conference room.

When we arrived, the meeting was already in progress and we slipped quietly in and sat down. A review of the last meeting’s minutes was being concluded. While the familiar recitation droned on, I took the opportunity to look around. This room had a spectacular view of north and east Tampa. The conference table was made in the same shape as the building, of grey granite and various shades of wood inlay. The firm logo was again inlaid in the center of the table. The chairs were mahogany leather and the walls were lined with grey, granite-topped cabinets upon which were perched china cups and crystal glasses in patterns I recognized.

Oil paintings of the firm’s named partners lined the long wall opposite the windows and above the paintings in large brass script were the words “The Founder’s Room.”