Philip Saeta: A great trial judge

When trial judges retire or move on, among the last acts marking a judicial career is the ritual of removing a judge's name plaques from the bench and the courtroom door. When this is completed, there often is little evidence or even memory of the myriad cases adjudicated by that judge. The contributions of a departed judge soon fade away. They may be only memorialized by no more than some bare dates and facts set forth in a short summary of a life well-lived.

The judicial career of the recently-passed Los Angeles County Superior Court Judge Philip Saeta is one that deserves more than such brief mention. He should be respected and long-remembered as an extraordinary judicial officer who worked diligently to ensure that justice was accomplished in his trial courtroom.

About 25 years ago, I had a civil trial before Judge Saeta that exemplified his fairness and efficiency as a trial judge. My client and the defendant in that case was the co-founder of a highly successful company. The plaintiff was his former wife who contended that he had started the company during their marriage and before they were separated. On this basis, she claimed half of his 50% interest in this hugely profitable private enterprise, which was worth tens, if not hundreds, of millions of dollars.

The former wife was represented by attorney Marvin Mitchelson, a flamboyant celebrity divorce lawyer who had represented many movie stars. He had been counsel for the plaintiff in Marvin v. Marvin, the landmark case that established the concept of palimony as a viable claim for damages. It was reputed that he greeted female clients in his bathrobe at his office.

Mitchelson was well-known around town as a courtroom ringmaster who pulled all kinds of shenanigans to win cases. But, in this matter, he would be before Judge Philip Saeta, a straight shooter who was known for not putting up with nonsense.

To prove that my client was already separated from his first wife when he started the company, we summoned the company's first employees to testify that he was living in his car after having been kicked out of the house by his wife. Fortunately, they had fond memories of having worked for him more than 15 years before. More importantly, their testimony was right on point that the company had been started by hm after his wife had booted him out and while he was virtually living on the street.

I had never had a trial before Judge Saeta but surmised that he was somewhat formal. After all, he did wear bow ties. My client, on the other hand, was totally informal. While visiting him at his Beverly Hills home for trial preparation, I asked him if he had a conservative suit to wear to court. I initially thought that he was kidding when he replied, "I guess that we'd better check my closet to see if I do." Sure enough, there wasn't a suit or necktie in sight. The best for court purposes that he had hanging there were a few wrinkled, trendy sports coats with the sleeves literally rolled up to the elbows.

Before trial, we got him to Brooks Brothers and remedied the appearance problem. Presto: Rodeo Drive became Century City with three new suits, conservative ties and, at the client's insistence, short-sleeved dress shirts. Nonetheless, from time-to-time during the trial, he instinctively would start rolling up the sleeves of his jacket. It only took a long stare at him from His Honor to restore strict decorum.

Judge Saeta bifurcated the issue of the separation date for the first phase of a non-jury trial. It was slow going. In the first instance, I had to adjust to the judge's system for labeling exhibits, one that I had never seen before and haven't since. He had a box of wooden clothes pins with numbers written on each one. As the exhibits came up, a clothes pin would be attached to an exhibit and then laid across the front of the counsel table. After the exhibits were admitted, his clerk collected the clothes-pinned documents. Different, but workable.

The former wife plaintiff was called as the first witness for herself. She detailed that my client and her had gone on vacation to Hawaii together while he was forming the company. She had a vivid recollection that he told her about starting the new venture with his partner. She said that her then-husband began the company immediately upon returning from Hawaii but before they had separated.

She insisted that they were still together when her now-former husband began the company and she was entitled to half of his interest in it. On cross-examination, she tried to hold her story together, but keep "forgetting" things here and there.

While I was examining the plaintiff and trying to make sense of her testimony, Mitchelson, who was sitting next to me and no more than an elbow away, pushed several photos across at me on the counsel table. I initially did not look at them and kept posing questions to the witness. With my right hand, I shoved the stack back to his side. He thrust them at me again. I glanced quickly at one and saw that it depicted his client standing topless on a Hawaiian-looking beach with palm trees in the background. Unsure what he was up to, I slid them to his side. For a third time, he swiped the photos towards me.

Judge Saeta noticed this distraction. He looked up and asked, "What's going on with the shuffle board down there?" Mitchelson obsequiously purred, "Oh, why nothing at all, your honor." "Then let's cut it out," retorted the perturbed judge. I had no idea what was Mitchelson's intention, but the photos never resurfaced. The judge's pointed question, his serious expression and a direct admonition put an abrupt halt to Mitchelson's monkey business.

Throughout the trial, Mitchelson was late at every turn. He could not get to court in the morning or timely return from a break or lunch. The judge repeatedly reminded him to be prompt. Michelson would say, "Your honor, I try to be on time but every time that I come down the hall another judge stops me to get advice on how to handle something pending before them. With all due respect, I'm only trying to help out the judiciary." With a skeptical look, the judge urged him to "do better next time."

On one day when we were about a week into the trial, Mitchelson was unusually tardy in coming back from lunch. Arriving out-of-breath, he appeared ready to deliver another "judge muckymuck" story about being detained down the hall to dispense free legal advice.

Judge Saeta drilled into him, "Mr. Mitchelson, do you have a large white Rolls Royce?" Mitchelson responded with great pride, "Why yes, your honor. I have done exceptionally well in my practice and it is my reward to myself to drive a nice Rolls." The judge then inquired, "Do you park across the street at the Music Center?" Mitchelson complied, "Why yes, your honor. It's close and convenient. But it does take a little while to get down and find a parking space."

Judge Saeta let loose, "Well, then that was probably the white Rolls Royce that nearly ran me over when it turned into the driveway of the Music Center parking lot about 15 minutes ago. The driver was a man driving like a maniac. He did not slow down or pay any attention to pedestrians. He looked just like you and must have been you!" Mitchelson stared down at his papers but said nothing. He was never late again.

Mitchelson's little trial tricks did give me pause about the ultimate outcome of the trial. But all is well that ends well. Judge Saeta summed up the facts and ruled that my client was already separated from his wife when he had started the company. We had won the day through a careful consideration of the evidence by a judge who listened intently, prudently evaluated the credibility of witnesses and could see through a concocted story.

Before leaving court, my client told me that his Brooks Brothers outfits could be picked up and donated to the Salvation Army. He then said that he wanted to reward the judge and the court clerk for their good work. I was able to head him off, for both appearances sake and lest there might be an appeal. None was filed. I doubted that the great palimony attorney Marvin Mitchelson ever wanted to see Judge Philip Saeta again. 