Two sets of father-and-son legal professionals reflect on how diversity within the practice of law has changed over the years—and how it hasn’t
Gregory P. Miller Sr. with his son.
In the late 1970s, impressive credentials got an African American attorney only so far. Despite extensive trial experience and national recognition in high-profile health care and defense procurement fraud cases, service as a Navy JAG Corps superior, and a prominent role as chief of the Criminal Division at the U.S. Attorney’s Office (USAO), Gregory P. Miller Sr. had a difficult time landing a partner role at a major Philadelphia law firm. After banging his head against the proverbial wall, he took a position at spinoff law firm Hoyle, Morris & Kerr. But the offer was as an associate, not a partner. “Even though I was in the number-three position [at USAO], I still couldn’t get an offer from the major law firms in town,” he explains, noting that every prior chief at the USAO slid into partner roles.
Eventually, after generating a stream of business and obtaining positive legal results, he made partner at Hoyle and earned membership in the firm’s executive committee. He later branched off, opening the private firm of Miller, Alfano & Raspanti; in January 2008, he will join the Philadelphia office of Drinker Biddle & Reath as a partner. Despite the success he achieved over the course of his career, however, scaling discriminatory obstacles proved tough.
Corporate America Shifts its Goals
Getting a foot in the door wasn’t quite as arduous for Miller Sr.’s son. By the time he graduated from Case Western Reserve University with a B.A. in communication sciences, Gregory P. Miller II, currently the director of business development at legal recruiting firm Major, Lindsey & Africa, boasted a number of assets valued by corporate America, including a prestigious private school education, a broad set of worldly experiences, and general likeability. And that was no accident. Knowing full well how the cards would be stacked against him, Miller Sr. armed his son with a set of tools intended to open doors that had remained stuck when he started out. “I provided him with the best private schools, sailing lessons, golfing, and all the things that make him a well-rounded individual,” explains Miller Sr., who describes his son as an intelligent, articulate, handsome, “very smooth kid.” Such attributes undoubtedly contributed to his ability to rise through the ranks, eventually landing a high-level position at Major, Lindsey & Africa, where he works closely with minority attorneys and in-house clients to place senior-level in-house counsel in new positions. But were these advantages enough to break the racial barriers against which Miller Sr. fought so hard?
Vincent H. Cohen Sr.
“Even the fact of Greg getting this job is significant,” says Miller Sr., noting that the general corporate push to improve diversity was a major factor in smoothing entry for African Americans. “The pressure that corporations are placing on firms to be diverse is a huge benefit to minority lawyers. For me, it’s inconceivable that we would be at a time when majority corporations would be saying that it matters to them. I can’t even believe that the day has arrived.”
Vincent Cohen Sr., former litigator for the Department of Justice and the first African American managing partner at Hogan & Hartson, knows firsthand how tough it was for a minority attorney starting out a generation ago. Not only was he steered away from typical legal outlets upon graduating from Syracuse University, but he quickly learned why. “In 1960, when I graduated, I went down to Wall Street and was told flat out that ‘We don’t hire negroes,’ ” he explains. “I was frozen out.”
After Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated, however, opportunities began to open up. Subsequent riots shook things up enough for law firms to seek out black lawyers, Cohen Sr. explains. “Martin Luther King’s death gave me my job, straight out. If he had not been assassinated and the riots had not taken place, I wouldn’t have been hired.” It was then, in 1969, that he signed on to work for Hogan & Hartson. Although the doors had in fact opened, a long time remained for equal treatment and respect.
Cohen Sr. recalls attending a firm party where, despite being welcomed as a new part of the Hogan family, he was subjected to racist remarks. Most memorable was a comment by the firm’s managing partner, who had been drinking heavily. When the song “Watermelon Man” played, the man laughed and said, “Vince, they’re playing your song!” Worse yet, each time Cohen Sr. appeared in court, the judge would call his managing partners to give a performance report. “ ‘He’s good!’ they’d say, meaning ‘We don’t think blacks are smart, but this one’s a good one,’ ” recalls Cohen Sr.
In retrospect, he recognizes that he was able to translate such blatant discrimination into a competitive advantage. “Every time I went [to court] and performed, I was given an accolade that the average Hogan & Hartson associate wouldn’t get. Those accolades helped convince a broader group that I was worth the partnership I subsequently got,” he explains. That recognition, in combination with his intelligence, hard work, and keen legal skills, made the difference.
Two Steps Forward; One Step Back
Though Miller II believes the road he is traveling is better-paved than it was for his father, he still finds it to be scattered with rocks and potholes. Lower pay, minimal recognition, and denied promotions are all too familiar to Miller II, who insists that the “good old boys’ network” is still alive and well. But, surprisingly, one of his most daunting disadvantages—consistently being given a company’s worst sales territory—has turned into his biggest boon. “One hundred percent of the time, I’ve received territories in the bottom 5 to 10 percent,” he says. Rather than stewing over the injustice of it all, Miller? II channeled his energy into turning those territories around and, in doing so, produced dramatic results practically overnight. He overshot existing quotas and revenue targets, thereby increasing the historical revenue by 200 or even 300 percent. Like Cohen Sr., Miller II capitalized on racial discrimination, using it as an opportunity to excel.
Vincent H. Cohen Jr.
Vincent H. Cohen Jr. recognizes that, despite the lack of overt discrimination in the law profession, the odds are still stacked against him as an African American attorney. “There are definitely subliminal issues,” he says, noting that survival in predominantly white law firms depends on having the right mentor. Now partner at Schertler & Onorato, Cohen Jr. recalls ongoing struggles as an associate to land a competitive book of business that seemed to be “wrapped up and tied with a bow” for his white counterparts. He believes that, in order to meet quotas and find opportunities to shine, it’s vital to have a mentor who filters down work.
Perception also plays a role. “I’m not overly aggressive, but I was often told to slow down and wait. My counterparts who do not look like me are not told to wait.” Cohen Jr. observes that he has had to hustle to gain the same amount of work, something that senior management may perceive as aggressive behavior.
What’s In a Name?
Another element that the Cohens and Millers have in common can be described as a type of “reverse discrimination.” Neither surname, Miller nor Cohen, sounds particularly black. Quite the contrary, they both sound “white.” This has stirred up unexpected evidence of racial bias both internally and externally.
Cohen Jr. represents a number of famous individual clients, including NBA all-stars and an Olympic gold medalist, and often works on high-profile cases. His name sometimes appears in newspapers or magazines, but typically without a photo. Word of mouth spreads, and new clients call him seeking specialized representation. When they arrive in person, they’re sometimes thrown off guard. “On many occasions,” explains Cohen Jr., “my assistant put [new clients] in a conference room and I’ve walked in with a white partner of mine and they say, ‘Mr. Cohen, it’s nice to meet you’ and they shake my white partner’s hand. Or they say, ‘Is Mr. Cohen available?’ There’s an assumption that because I’m a lawyer and [because of] my last name, I have to be an old Jewish guy.”
Cohen Sr. has had just as many puzzling experiences, including one when he represented General Motors. At the beginning of a trial, when the judge was ready to proceed, the plaintiff’s attorney paused, noting that they couldn’t proceed because the attorney for GM hadn’t arrived yet. The judge asked Mr. Cohen to please stand up, which he did, but the plaintiff still didn’t understand. “In his mind, it was inconceivable that a black man could represent GM in those days,” recalls Cohen Sr. “He couldn’t see me.”
“With a name like Miller, there’s no indication to most clients that I’m African American before they come in the door,” adds Miller Sr. “I’ve noticed the reaction of some. They appear at the door and they’re sort of waiting for Mr. Miller to show up.” His technique is to demonstrate his expertise before clients have too long to think about it. “I’ve learned over the years that I have about five minutes to close them. And I’ve been successful at allaying any fears that they have,” he says.
“I faced this going to prep school and job interviews,” says Miller II. “I’d go to an interview and they’d expect a non-African American and then see an African American.” Growing up in Bucks County, Pa., he was one of few minorities who lived in the upscale area and attended private school. Even now, when potential employers review his resume, which includes this atypical background, they sometimes appear surprised upon meeting him. “There is a subtle racism that takes place. They see your prep school and your name and they’re automatically going to think that you’re white because they’re typically white institutions.”
“My father always said you have to work past that initial reaction,” he adds. “But if your accomplishments supersede that initial shock reaction, that’s very powerful.” Despite being something of a pioneer himself—Miller II was the first minority hired at several major organizations—determination and a solid work ethic have enabled him to break barriers, make his mark, and rise to the top of his profession. Miller Sr. taught him very early on that to succeed in the predominantly white field of law, he’d need to give everything his all, working harder than his peers and honing his skills to be sharper than theirs.
As a teen, when his peers were enjoying typical summer activities, Miller II was sent to writing camp because his father believed his skills needed improvement. “The trade-off was, ‘Go to writing camp first, and then you can go to sailing camp afterwards. Go put 110 percent into writing and then you’ll see your reward,’” explains Miller II. If Miller Sr. learned anything over the course of his career, it was that striving to meet your maximum potential is essential to rising above a racially biased profession.
Miller II undoubtedly benefited from his father’s wisdom, and has achieved professional success with fewer struggles than his father encountered. But is the climate actually better today than it was yesterday? Both generations of Millers and Cohens believe there’s still a long way to go, citing ongoing barriers to law school admission and sparse openings in prominent law firms. Even so, the Millers and Cohen Jr. believe things are on their way up. But Cohen Sr. isn’t convinced.
“It’s 10 times worse than young attorneys even understand,” he says, noting that it’s more covert now but just as formidable. “If you’re not a part of the old boy network, you’re not going to get the work. Senior lawyers do things to make it impossible for you to succeed. At least when I went in, it was clear. The Cohen Jr.s of the world have a harder fight than I did because at least my enemy was not a moving target.” DB
From the November/December 2007 issue of Diversity & The Bar®