IRA Grudberg

Ira Grudberg died last week and, in the words of Arthur Miller “attention must be paid.” And for a good reason.

Ira was 91. He had been retired for almost a decade. He had practiced for more than 50 years, mostly with the firm founded by Israel Jacobs in New Haven. That ultimately evolved into Jacobs, Grudberg, Belt, Dow & Katz. Ira was one of the most prominent, best, smartest and most well-known lawyers in the State of Connecticut. And all those for the right reasons.

Ira was born in the Bronx and moved to Connecticut during WWII. He graduated from Stratford High and went on to Yale where, after a two-year detour as an enlisted man in the Army, he returned to Yale and graduated magna cum laude and Phi Beta Kappa. From there, on to Yale Law School graduating cum laude. He clerked for Judge Joseph Smith on the Second Circuit and then joined with Howard Jacobs to almost immediately change the landscape of constitutional criminal procedure in the State of Connecticut. Within a few brief years he became known as the brightest star in Connecticut’s criminal law galaxy. Howard developed the issues at the trial level and Ira briefed them, argued them and repeatedly convinced the Connecticut Supreme Court to rule in his favor. He developed and expanded constitutional rights of the accused, right to counsel, search and seizure and other civil liberties.

Ira wasn’t finished. He turned his talents toward trial work – criminal and civil. His gift of creative analyses, innovative tactical approaches and incomparably effective cross-examination made watching Ira Grudberg try a case a popular pastime to members of the bar, judges and juries. He plied his trade in courtrooms across Connecticut, both federal and state.

Ira was smart. He knew he was smart. He relished using his intelligence to do his job well. For many lawyers, a eulogy after a long career inevitably refers to a “love of the law”. Despite his keen acumen, that was not Ira. What he loved above all else was the practice of law, using his skills and brilliance to help his clients, protecting them from disaster and, along the way, demonstrating the practice of trial law at its highest levels. As Judge Ed Dolan said, there were none better than Ira Grudberg. He could and did try anything – homicides, complex federal criminal cases, federal anti-trust cases and even patent cases. There were no limits to his skill nor intelligence.

Ira was one of those folks who didn’t need a last name. Everyone knew who he was. There was only one Ira. Based on his skill and his hard work; he earned that identifier. He got to work at 6:30 every morning, sometimes later on Saturdays and Sundays. He was astoundingly productive. He was always willing to help other lawyers.

Ira was larger-than-life in many ways. He always wore a bowtie, untied, hanging from his neck which, in seconds before a judge took the bench, miraculously became properly tied; and, seconds after the judge left, miraculously returned to its former state. He favored colorful socks and outrageous belt buckles. He had a timorous voice you would pay money for which only enhanced his persuasive abilities.

For younger lawyers in our office – really for all lawyers – Ira was an example of what it took to be a good lawyer. Work hard. Protect your client. Produce high quality work. Be good to other lawyers. And most of all, be honest. One of Ira’s best gifts was judgment. He acquired that at a very early age. When a young lawyer in our firm – or any lawyer from anywhere for that matter – approached Ira with a problem, Ira stopped, focused, analyzed the problem and opined, almost always with a correct solution. He was to many an incomparable mentor and editor. Personally, I have repeated again and again how practicing law with Howard Jacobs and Ira Grudberg was like learning how to play baseball from Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig. There was no better experience. One of the best lessons I learned from Ira was the ability to admit your mistakes. Own up. Deal with it. Move on. Do the best you can. Be honest.

Ira was always there to help. He never turned down a request from a lawyer to assist with an analysis or tactics or advice on trials. He also helped many a lawyer who had fallen on hard times or found themselves on the wrong side of the law. Ira roamed comfortably in courtrooms across the state for decades, always impressing others with his effectiveness and always without swagger or arrogance.

There was one story Ira would tell which kind of summed up what he loved about practicing trial law. A famous antitrust case was tried in the Hartford Federal Court for more than a year. Both sides featured legions of well-dressed litigators from large firms in New York and Boston, all of whom had taken countless depositions but never really tried a case. Ira was the only trial lawyer in the room. He really was the only one who knew what he was doing. At one point after he had been on his feet questioning various witnesses for a number of days, Ira moved the podium and brought it into a position where he could more effectively cross-examine a witness so the jurors could see it. As Ira told it, when he did so, a female juror nudged the juror next to her and said, “see, that’s the right way. He’s the only one who knows what he is doing.” Ira loved that story.

She was right. He was the only one. And Ira knew it. And he really was glad that the juror knew it.

And that’s why attention must be paid when a legendary figure has moved on.