CLAO: Legal War on Cambridge Poverty

Ask a graduate of Harvard Law School how to probate a $5 million estate, and he will hand you an 85 page brief. Ask him what to do about a young mother in danger of losing welfare payments unless she files charges against her lover, and you can expect only an embarrassed grimace. Harvard and most other law schools have long concentrated on "affluence law," neglecting and sometimes ignoring the legal problems of the poor.

But the national preoccupation with poverty has begun to have its effect on the law schools: Harvard Law is experimenting in ways to assure equal representation for those unable to pay lawyers' fees. The Community Legal Assistance Office, which opened its doors to all comers last October, is the school's answer to the problem. Established under an $80,000 research and demonstration grant from the Office of Economic Opportunity, it offers legal aid to all indigents.

Unlike the Legal Aid Society and Voluntary Defenders--the traditional legal aid bureaus of the school--CLAO seeks to minimize its open ties with Harvard in favor of active participation in the neighborhood. Its cramped offices are located in a low-income neighborhood in East Cambridge, not in what the local poor regard as the "other Cambridge" around Harvard.

Student response to CLAO has amazed even its director, John M. Ferren '59. He had expected 50 or 60 students to appear at an introductory meeting last fall--more than 200 came. Today 75 of these second-and third year students work from five to ten hours a week under the supervision of licensed staff attorney Paul Garrity.

To attract clients, CLAO papered neighborhood churches, grocery stores, and pool halls with posters informing residents of its legal services. And clients began to come in, either on their own initiative, or on the advice of social agencies. As the caseload grew from an October average of 16 per week to 25 per week in February, word of mouth became CLAO's best advertisement. "We've been getting a lot of clients," Garrity says, "who just say they've heard somewhere that those fellows at 245 Broadway are a pretty good bunch of lawyers."

CLAO tries to preserve a normal lawyer-client relationship. No paupers oath is required; financial eligibility is determined in casual conversation. Clients fill out no forms; they discuss their cases and the staff member takes notes on the traditional yellow pad. One student works on each case until its final disposition, sometimes doing 100 to 150 hours of research on it.

During the fall term, CLAO restricted court appearances to the staff attorney, in order to give students a chance to work on case research. Since February, Garrity has permitted third year students to appear in court for small civil suits. Their record, he feels, has been quite satisfactory--both to him and to their clients, some of whom have given their "lawyers" neckties in appreciation.

To date, about half of CLAO's 436 cases have dealt with divorces, non-support cases, and other problems of "family law." Landlord-tenant and consumer problems together make up another quarter. Eleven per cent have been criminal, mostly juvenile and misdemeanor cases.

Felonies--which account for an infinitesimal percentage of the CLAO case load--could confront student assistants with ethical problems far removed from the dry case studies of the law school. "Suppose a client comes in, says, 'here's the knife,' and asks a student to defend him. What does the student do?" Ferren asks.

In other cases, economic, social and legal problems combine to form a "poverty syndrome." One student assistant arranged for the probation under his supervision of two parents accused of child neglect, helped them to arrange their debt problems, and subsequently to obtain hospital care. "Most of us no longer make snide cocktail party comments about welfare mothers; we have some insight into their problems," one staff member comments.

Such multiple-problem cases inevitably bring CLAO into close contact, and sometimes conflict, with social agencies. One social worker warned CLAO not to give juveniles the impression that they can "always get off the hook by going to CLAO."

Another area of friction has been the "family lawyer" plan proposed by the CLAO last fall. They hoped that clergymen and social workers would help them select families whose credit, housing, or social status indicated a possible legal crisis in the near future. A CLAO staff assistant would then be assigned to the family to help it avoid the potential crisis.

A frosty reception from clergymen and social workers caused the plan to fall through. In particular, most social workers felt that law students could not counsel families whose problems were still non-legal. "Students would be," they claim, "in the way of those who know what to do."

Social agencies have been somewhat more receptive to another CLAO proposal, to take advantage of lawyers' organizational skills by using them as "general contractors" for combined cases. When such a case came to the CLAO office, a student would organize the client's future contacts with other agencies--arranging meetings of workers to plan a joint case strategy.

This plan has worked well in several cases, but, according to Ferren, it appears that the personal qualities of a given lawyer, not necessarily his organizational skills, determine the outcome. CLAO continues to get references from most local social and welfare agencies.

The cozy co-existence between CLAO and the powers-that-be may be shattered as the office moves from "service" cases toward improving the state of the poor in the face of the law. Ferren says they will try to "aim broadsides against institutional adversaries of the poor,"--chiefly by using the weapon of test cases. Eligibility standards of local welfare boards are one primary target of the "institutional reform" policy.

At present the CLAO is challenging a welfare board which threatened to cut off a recipient's benefits unless she filed a paternity suit against her "paramour."

Another test case seeks to establish a standard procedure for what the City Health Department calls "the little old lady syndrome." In the past, when a health inspector found an elderly person living alone who did not appear capable of taking care of himself--or who might be a danger to neighbors through carelessness--the inspector usually had him committed to a mental institution for observation.

CLAO is optimistic that its test case will establish the rule that public hearings, with full counsel, must be held for even such supposedly temporary commitments.

Other efforts for "institutional reform" are directed against merchants and landlords who allegedly exploit the poor. "What do those ... think they're doing suing me," one mercant supposedly fumed when told of a test case against him for unfair selling practices.

But efforts to establish precedents can be frustrated, for targets of test cases will sometimes offer generous out-of-court settlements to avoid an adverse--and publicized--court ruling. They can then continue their practices, hoping only that their next victim does not go to CLAO.

These moot test cases tear CLAO between the interests of its present client and the ultimate interests of the poor. An out-of-court settlement would satisfy the client, but a court-established precedent would aid CLAO and other agencies to combat the accused practices in the future. So far, CLAO has always deferred to the client's wishes to accept the settlements offered.

A third avenue of "institutional reform" consists of aiding local community action groups to unravel the complexities of the law. During the past six months, CLAO has advised a group of Boston poor organizing an egg-buying co-operative, a neighborhood rehabilitation program, and a proposed Cambridge credit union.

But institutional reform programs are often long and costly--they can detract from the handling of routine "service" cases in the office. CLAO's present experimentation with the full handling of both types of cases is possible only as long as a certain surplus of manpower and money exists--and that surplus is shrinking as the case load grows.

Sometime within the next 18 months, CLAO will have to decide which policy to follow. The normal limit for OEO research and demonstration grants is two years, or until October 1968 for CLAO. After this date, the program will have to seek financing elsewhere, probably from private foundations. Ferren feels that the available funds will probably not be enough to support anticipated case loads from both approaches.

Residents of East Cambridge will make the final decision, since CLAO exists to serve their desires for legal aid. If they want a "service policy," CLAO will accept as many cases as possible according to some arbitrary selection process. If the neighborhood opts for an "institutional reform" policy, the office will concentrate on promising test cases and advice to community action groups.

Accordingly, CLAO's prime concern at the moment is to strengthen its rapport with the neighborhood. Since it is under a research, not a community action grant, CLAO does not have a formal board of advisors from the poor. It must seek information through the less formal channels of neighborhood meetings, church groups, and talks with clients.

Along side the informal talks, CLAO hopes to develop a program of legal education for the poor, to inform them of the nature of legal problems, and of their rights in court. Three pilot programs early last fall were only sparsely attended, but Ferren feels that the subsequent successes of CLAO will aid a series of programs for the spring.

The second question mark in CLAO's future is its relationship with the law school curriculum. A group of Faculty members worked at the office during January exam period; a larger group will probably work there during May exams. Some CLAO students want to encourage an even closer faculty involvement, with the aim of making the program into a clinic for credit.

But other volunteers--probably a majority--insist that the program remain purely extracurricular. They argue that the separation of the program from the classroom allows a flexibility and a freedom from grade pressure.

Whether or not CLAO is integrated into the Law School curriculum, it will undoubtedly continue to produce spillover benefits for law school classes. Early in November, CLAO workers produced 57 legal memoranda covering 313 single-spaced pages on topics of "poverty law." The Massachusetts Bar Association plans to use them for legal educational programs for low-income groups.

Several CLAO participants have combined their field observations with legal research for term papers in a seminar on Urban Legal Studies given by Adam Yarmolinsky '43, professor of Law. Yarmolinsky is presently planning an Urban Studies Workshop program for next year. A small group of selected third-year students will work on original urban problems offered by community agencies.

The Law School's continuing support of CLAO indicates the school's determination to break with its passive past and take an active interest in the problems of the urban poor. As the program matures, however, it should draw closer to the neighborhood and further from the school, for a real foothold in the neighborhood is CLAO's best insurance against future crises