Until I was 21, I knew no lawyers. Since then, I have known little else. Which is how I ended up on the cusp of winter in Minneapolis in 1992 to watch a man who knew plenty of upholsterers, but no lawyers, during his formative years.
I arrived at the Hyatt Regency just in time for the last call at Pizza Hut. And had to be up early, the court clerk said, because the...
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