1978

The Big Green Briefs by John Grisham (Part II of a two-part series). Chapter Eight: Looking like a bowlegged Bob Dylan, Gary Traynor parked his 1970 Lincoln Continental in front of the courthouse in downtown Wilmington, collected his papers, and headed up the steps. Pie Traynor was one of the few attorneys in Delaware known for citing Jerry Jeff Walker as a legal authority. He was also known as the toughest criminal defender in Wilmington. "Defendants' door this way," said a bailiff, who quickly realized his mistake and apologized. "Happens all the time," Traynor said, smiling his inscrutable smile.

"How many law books can you fit through those bow legs of yours?" asked a juror. Traynor loved this job. He loved his daughters, Laura 10 and Erin 5. But there was something else on his mind today. You could call it underwear. But to Traynor it was much more.

Chapter Nine: At first Linda McDavid thought it was one of George's old rugby buddies. "Some guy at the Wal-Mart was wearing green jockey shorts outside his pants," she complained once she got George on the carphone in his '74 Scout George admitted that it sounded like some people he knew. But he didn't know any more.

In Hingham, Mass., Amy Woodward examined the waistband of the item in her hand. It was a 40. She called Lenny at Mintz Levin Cohn Ferris Glovsfey and Popeo. "Mr. Weiser-Varon, please," she said, disguising her concern. "Lenny, something came in the mail, and I'm scared."

"Sounds like Capobianco to me," he replied. "Not this time," said Amy.

Chapter Ten: Gazing at a PC screen in Ossining, N.Y., patent watchdog AnneBarschall ignored the stress-induced anhydrotic eczema on her fingers as she nimbly attacked her keyboard. Her company, Philips Electronics, had invented the Compact Cassette and the CD. But her job was even more fun. The phone rang. She smiled, thinking it was another opportunity to place bureau- cratic obstacles before struggling co-workers. It was Alan. Three-year-old David wanted to say hi. Six-month-old Joseph was crying in the background. So much for the glamorous life of a senior intellectual property counsel, she thought to herself. Somebody dropped a new-product file on her desk. It was green. It was marked "Interactive undergarments." What'll they think next?

Chapter 11: "We're 100-percent environmentally correct," said Jay Brown into his car phone. That was his response whenever he heard the word "green." As he eased his dolphin-gray BMW 325 into the Hoechst Celanese parking lot, Brown thought of his great-great-grandfather, Henderson Preston Sutphin, who had left his home in Johnson City, Tenn., to fight for the Confederacy. Now Brown fought the legal battles for the Charlotte, N.C., chemical giant. Across town his wife, Daphne, parked her Taurus wagon at the Carolina Medical Center. Nursing in neonatal care was her specialty. The item of clothing she saw as she walked into the unit that day was definitely not sterile.

Chapter 12: Up in Baltimore, Mike Brennan was driving a Taurus, too. A blue '91. In the books lawyers drive BMWs. But Brennan wasn't like other lawyers. "Father, husband, coach, scout leader, lawyer—in that order," he thought to himself as he longingly felt for the thick, wavy hair that had long since grayed and fallen out. Cy 12 and Katie 9 had just gotten a new baby sister, Annelise, who was adopted from Seoul. The family makes baguettes from their own bread machine. His wife, Mary Jane, was putting the finishing touches on the dissertation for her Ph.D. in sociology, ready to head over to Johns Hopkins.

Chapter 13: Everyone wondered about BillBlatt: why had he left Capitol Hill and the Rostenkowski committee to teach taxation and legislation at the University of Miami Law School? Was it the pressure of legislation? Or was it something he knew? One of his research assistants, John Myer, wondered especially. Blatt's gold '86 Legend glistened in the Florida sun. Sometimes his knowledge of tax laws and the federal budget made him cynical about the world. But then he looked out over the crystal blue water and sighed.

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his knowledge of tax laws and the federal budget made John Meyer cynical. But then he looked out over the crystal blue water and sighed. -BROOKS CLARK '78