When I first came to work at the State Bar of California circa the late 1980's, where I became a prosecutor of other attorneys who were alleged to have violated the Rules of Professional Conduct, the name of Ted Cohen was spoken in hushed, reverent tones. Ted was considered a "lawyer's lawyer" not only by reputation, but also because he really did represent lawyers, professionals whose licenses were subject to reproval, suspension or disbarment, due to convictions or complaints against them. His niche was those lawyers whose conduct was engendered or complicated by alcohol and/or drug addiction. Although Ted himself claimed no particular faith, I understand, his niche could be said to one of Providence, the end result of a man who had suffered giving back to others who suffered, and sometimes, thereby, caused suffering to others.
For Ted himself, in the sixties and seventies, had been one of those lawyers. Anybody can read about the case. It was public. It remains public record. But what matters is that this man gave back to the profession he loved, and to professionals who needed his help legally and in following the Big Book of Alcoholic's Anonymous.
He was one of those people that you meet in life, one of those rare people, that you cannot believe is what he appears. Perfect, no, of course. But there was an aura of good that was punctuated by good acts confirming the sense of goodness. His first concern about a lawyer whose drug or alcohol issue brought him or her to the Bar was their recovery. Everything else was secondary. That's not to say that he didn't provide a good defense, but he aimed at recovering responsibility, and dignity with just as much fervor. And if Ted made a representation to you, there was no worry about whether it would be true. This was a redeemed man, in my opinion, and in the opinion of others.
I wasn't close to Ted, but he was someone I always had a fond thought of when I did, and I would run into him occasionally, outside of work, at the Original Farmer's Market, where he liked to eat and kibbutz with friends of his. That he liked this old wreck of a tourist trap also endeared him to me. It was a favorite of mine. For a bit of time in the late 80s, I had a few social encounters with him, as he was close to someone I worked with at the time. I probably saw him into the 90s, and some of the 2000s. But I have been away from the things of the State Bar for about 8 years and even before that I had seen him less and less.
He died in March, having led a goodly long life. There was a memorial, today, in Pacific Palisades. There was never a doubt in my mind that I would attend. He didn't need my respect. I knew that he would have the respect of enormous numbers of people, people whose lives he probably saved in whole or in part. He had their respect. He had their love.
Most of the people present I did not know. Most seemed to know each other from what they called "Ted's Meetings". Several of the speakers gave their names, and then added the now well known extension, "I'm an alcoholic", or "I'm a drug addict", or both. And many in the crowd would respond with "Hi" using the name of the speaker. Over and over a speaker would call him a teacher, a substitute father, a brother, a sponsor or a combination of all of them.
A couple of the speakers I remembered from my early days at the State Bar, lawyers who almost lost it all. Seeing them, I was back in time 30 plus years. I hadn't been involved in their particular prosecutions and from this standpoint, years later, somehow I was glad of it. I wondered if some of my colleagues from those days might be there. One was, another defense bar attorney who still does the work. Another had been unable to come. Maybe there were others, but I recognized nearly no one.
There were plenty of pictures of Ted. I had forgotten that slight smile, that slight kind smile he always had. Someone said that he never judged people when he interacted with them. As a prosecutor in those days to his defense bar attorney, I experienced that. It would be easy to judge, it is often easy to judge, the opposition, but he seemed to simply like me, even if I was going to seek license discipline on one of his clients. I liked to run into him professionally or outside the legal ring.
It happens to be the 15th anniversary of the death of another friend of mine today. I realized as I watched the people in the room honoring Ted, that Ted had some similarities to that man. Something in the way he talked to anyone he met. An innate kindness. Something in his wish to help the other, more than is usual in the average person. An ability to overcome pretty strong emotional disadvantages in early family life and become some one to model oneself after.
There aren't a lot of such people walking among us. It you meet one or two in your life, you are blessed indeed. Ted was one. I wish I had known him better. But knowing him, even a little, was gift enough.
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