One L by Scott Turow Read Free Book Online

He had graduated from the University of Texas Law School, but he had been a professor at HLS for twenty years. Only in the late ’60s had he interrupted his teaching, when he had briefly been some kind of counsellor to Nixon.
    It was already a few minutes after ten, the hour when we were supposed to start. The class was assembled and almost everyone was in his seat. Don asked me what Perini looked like.
    â€œI don’t know,” I answered. “No idea.”
    Greg, the ex-marine on the other side, said, “Just take a look.”
    Perini moved slowly down the tiers toward the lectern. He held his head up and he was without expression. My first thought was that he looked softer than I’d expected. He was around six feet, but pudgy and a little awkward. Although the day was warm, he wore a black three-piece suit. He held the book and the seating chart under his arm.
    The room was totally silent by the time he reached the lectern. He slapped the book down on the desk beneath. He still had not smiled.
    â€œThis is Contracts,” he said. “Section Two, in case any of you are a little uncertain about where you are.” He smiled then, stiffly. “I have a few introductory comments and then we’ll be going on to the cases I asked you to look at for today. First, however, I want to lay out the ground rules on which this class will run, so that there will be no confusion in the future.”
    He spoke with elaborate slowness, emphasis on each word. His accent was distinctly southern.
    Perini picked up the casebook in one hand.
    â€œThe text for this class is Selected Cases in the Law of Contracts . The editors are Baldridge and”—Perini lifted a hand to weight the silence—“et cetera.” He smiled again, without parting his lips. Around the room a few people snickered. Then he said, “Needless to mention, I hope you bought it new,” and got his first outright laugh.
    â€œWe will proceed through the book case by case,” Perini told us. “Now and then we may skip a case or two. In that event, I’ll inform you in advance, or you will find a notice on the bulletin boards. You should stay three cases ahead, each day.”
    Between the desk on which the lectern sat and the students in the front row, there was a narrow area, a kind of small proscenium. Perini began to pace there slowly, his hands behind his back. I watched him as he came toward our side of the room, staring up harshly at the faces around him. He looked past fifty, coarse-skinned and dark. He was half-bald, but his black hair was styled carefully. There was a grim set to his mouth and eyes.
    â€œThis class will deal with the law of obligations, of bargains, commercial dealings, the law of promises,” Perini said. “It is the hardest course you will take all year. Contracts has traditionally been the field of law of the most renowned intellectual complexity. Most of the greatest legal commentators of the past century have been Contracts scholars: Williston, Corbin, Fuller, Llewellyn, Baldridge—” He lifted his hand as he had done before. “Et cetera,” he said again and smiled broadly for the first time. Most people laughed. One or two applauded. Perini waited before he began pacing again.
    â€œSome of your classmates may find the Property course in the spring the hardest course they take. But you will not feel that way, because you will be taking Contracts with me. I am not”—he looked up—“an easy person.
    â€œI expect you to be here every day. And I expect you to sit where the registrar has assigned you. On the so-called back benches, I should see only those persons who are visiting us seeking a momentary glimpse of something morbid.” Laughter again from a few places.
    â€œI expect you to be very well prepared, every day. I want to be absolutely clear on that. I have never heard the word ‘pass.’ I do not know what