Justice Is Not An Empty Word
Legal Services Reaches Through Barrier of Poverty to Aid
Clients
Shirley Downing
Saturday, November 9, 2002
Thelma James was a prime candidate for a real estate ripoff: She
is 68, has precious little money and can't read or write.
"I won't lie to you. I was so-o-o excited," the widow and former
duplex dweller said of the purchase of her first home, a sagging
frame structure on Snowden. "I was glad to get me a house."
When James realized she had been swindled she turned to Memphis
Area Legal Services, which represented her in a lawsuit. Now,
James's monthly house notes have dropped from $796 - more than
twice her monthly income - to an affordable $247. Some of the
people who took advantage of her through a questionable loan
program were sent to jail.
"I don't know what I would have done without Legal Services,"
said James. "They solved a lot of my problems."
James is one of more than 3,000 clients served last year by
MALS, which provides assistance for civil matters, such as domestic
abuse and family-related problems, Social Security and Supplemental
Security Income, veterans, housing and consumer fraud cases.
Like James, most clients are elderly or female. Some are
handicapped. Some need medical care or veteran's benefits. Some are
trying to escape eviction or an abusive marriage. And 87 percent
live at or below poverty level.
Shelby County Mayor A C Wharton recently said Legal Services is
important for those who, because of poverty or other struggles in
life, think justice is an empty word. "They must be given reason to
believe that the law is for them too," said Wharton, a former
executive director of MALS.
But MALS faces a funding crunch next year, brought on by a
$200,000 shortfall from three revenue sources. Even though more
than 150,000 people in Shelby, Fayette, Tipton and Lauderdale
counties qualify for public legal aid, the latest census shows a
loss of 10,166 poverty-level clients in the area. The population
shift translates into a loss of $163,000 by the parent Legal
Services Corp., combined with the loss of $35,000 in
court-generated fees from two other programs.
Lawyers and judges are trying to raise money for the agency that
many say has worked magic with little more than gumption,
hardscrabble dollars and a rambling, second-floor warren of rooms
across the street from City Hall.
Several law firms have donated about $25,000 and the Community
Foundation of Greater Memphis recently pledged $75,000 over three
years.
MALS was formed here more than 30 years ago. Today, 14 staff
attorneys, 26 office workers and 21 University of Memphis third-
year law students work out of rented offices in the old Claridge
Hotel building at 109 N. Main.
Offices are spartan. There are no lush rugs or stylish
furniture. The large table in the conference room is simple
varnished wood. Offices are small and mostly plain, except for the
eclectic mix of pop art, African statuary and neon that adorns
litigation director Webb Brewer's space.
Brewer, who has been at the agency 20 years, said there is a
need for lawyers of all stripes to help with the problems of the
poor.
"The private bar could meet more of the need through pro bono
work, but there are still cases that involve the systemic problems
for low-income people that we would need to do," said Brewer.
"The legal system marketplace just doesn't serve low-income
people too well, except in fee-generat-ing type cases," Brewer
said. "If a poor person gets run over by a bus, an attorney might
take that case because they might be able to recover part of the
damage award as attorney fees. But so many of the cases we handle
have to do with basic rights and a decent life. There is just no
profit motive."
Larry Pivnick, law professor at the University of Memphis Law
School and director of political programs at MALS, said Legal
Services is a great learning laboratory for law students.
"There are thousands and thousands of people who have problems
that never get an opportunity to appear in court," Pivnick said.
"Some people may not be particularly articulate. Courts have rules
that clients don't always understand."
Brewer said a major focus of the agency's work involves
housing.
"Although a lot of our work is grant-driven, we find that the
lack of safe and decent affordable housing and the prevalence of
predatory lending are the biggest problems in our client
population," Brewer said, referring to clients such as James.
James spoke with a reporter during a recent visit at MALS
offices. Other clients there that day included a 42-year-old woman
who needed help getting child support payments from her former
lover, a married preacher who had fathered a child with her during
a six-year affair.
Down the hall was longtime community activist Georgia King, 62,
talking to a lawyer about her pending eviction from a high-rise
efficiency apartment. King said she is accused of having too much
clutter.
"I was homeless when I went there, and everything I got,
somebody had give to me," she said, noting she is trying to sift
through things. "If they had give me a one-bedroom I would have
room for everything. "
King has high praise for Legal Services. "They help you in a lot
of different areas," she said.
Dana Brandon, 43, turned to MALS for help finding a school and
treatment program for her 9-year-old son after it became clear the
child would not fit into any of the city school system's special
education programs.
Brandon could not hire a private attorney because she has to
stay home to tend her son, who is often violent and who requires
constant supervision. "I think they have been very helpful," she
said.
Andre Turner, an ex-Marine, turned to Legal Services when he was
fired from his job for missing too much work. Turner's 12-year-old
son needs a kidney transplant and Turner said he had to miss work
to take him to numerous doctor and dialysis visits.
When he was fired, Turner's son lost his insurance and his place
in line for the transplant.
"I felt like my rights were violated," Turner said, noting that
though the case is still pending, Legal Services was able to get
the insurance reinstated. The transplant is now closer to
reality.
The hardest part of losing his job, Turner said, was answering
his son. "He still asks me if he is going to die, and if I'm still
going to give him my kidney."
