Tom Lawless didn’t care whether you liked him or not.
And there were definitely people who didn’t like him. But those people never took the time to get to know him. They stopped at his politics, were leery of his sharp sense of humor, or were jealous of his self-confident independence. Tom was defined by his politics, but he didn’t play politics by the rules.
One reason Tom didn’t care if you didn’t like him was that, frankly, he knew you were wrong. Tom brought his authentic self to every interaction, to every case. He couldn’t help it.
If somebody was being dumb in court, he’d say it. If his client was being greedy, he’d tell them. If opposing counsel pushed too hard, watch out (and, to be clear, it didn’t need to be Tom who was being pushed–he was genuinely offended by jerks).
Local reporters loved Tom. Always willing to go on the record, and he was a “good quote.” (Though I bet the off-the-record stuff was phenomenal.)
A smart legal mind is a dime a dozen, but the ability cut somebody in half with a sarcastic comment and a willingness to say it? Tom was fearless and absolutely owned that.
He was also a fierce friend.
Tom and I swam in the same waters. We both represented creditors, and so we never had cases against each other. Instead, we were competing for the same clients–a position that maybe was more adversarial than being opposing counsel.
Tom was always good to me. Don’t get me wrong: For the first 10 years of my career, I avoided him. If Tom Lawless was in the business of calling out dumb lawyers for doing dumb things, I didn’t need him paying attention to my little career.
Then, I got to know him. He chaired the Nashville Bar Association Ethics and Professionalism Section, and, for years, he’d host a monthly sit-down session with titans of the Nashville Bar and chit chat with them, about the law, their career, about anything that came to mind, under the guise of a committee meeting. Really wide-ranging, candid conversations that only Tom could have with these people, but open to whoever showed up.
At first, I thought that it was a discrete way for Tom to flatter the important people; after attending a number of those meetings, I figured out that it was a way for those people to curry favor with Tom.
Because you always wanted to be on Tom’s good side. Pre-COVID, I joined the Rotary Club, and I’d generally sit at Tom’s table–at the back of the house–and he just could not keep quiet. He knew everybody and knew everything. A story would come to his mind, a catty comment, and he’d say it. Out loud. Years ago, a friend told me “Tom is like the internet. If you tell him, you need to assume that everybody knows.”
You couldn’t have a call with Tom that lasted less than an hour. He loved to talk and, despite his political reputation, had a genuine interest in people of all sorts. If you needed something, he’d help. A call with him always included a sincere “And how are you doing? Everything good?”
I can’t count the number of times I left the office late or ate a cold dinner, because I took the 5pm call from Tom.
People talk all the time about politics being too partisan nowadays, but, despite being the most conservative of conservatives–in a blue town like Nashville– Tom was always willing to cross the aisle when a helping “a lib” was the right thing to do.
For years, the Nashville Bar Association posted a list of volunteers for its Dial-A-Lawyer pro bono program, and Tom’s name was on it every month. What a thankless service, just answering debt collection questions on the phone for hours, but he was there.
When he passed, I hadn’t talked to Tom for months.
About a year ago, a friend of mine was up for a judgeship, and I reached out to Tom to put a good word in for her. (She got the job.)(Side-note: She didn’t need any help.) Tom took the credit, and I was happy to give it to him. Tom was a guy who did favors and got things done.
I felt guilty, asking for anything, when I hadn’t seen him for a bit. In fact, I volunteered at Dial-A-Lawyer last month (for the first time ever), hoping that maybe Tom would be there, holding court with the other volunteers during the lull in calls. He wasn’t there, and the volunteer coordinator said she hadn’t seen him in a long time.
I got a little concerned. For a few months, I had been meaning to reach out to him. To check in on him, trade some gossip, all of that. I never texted, because I knew, as soon as I hit “send,” he’d call, and I always held off, waiting until I had about an hour to chat.
It’s a busy time, and I’m sure I’ll see him soon.
Sunday night was a shock. Other people knew him far better than I did, but Tom’s passing is a big loss to our community. For all his politics, he was never politically correct. Despite his proximity to power, he’d call out hypocrites and stupidity, no matter the party. His strongest affiliation was to his friends. And, if you needed his help, he’d probably say yes.
Tom will be missed. In Bankruptcy Court and Chancery Court. At the Nashville Bar Association. Over at the legislative offices. On my caller id.
I can’t imagine there will ever be another Tom Lawless.
