14 A R I Z O N A AT T O R N E Y O C T O B E R 2 0 0 1

Diversity in law is a topic that hasno one meaning. Do we mean diver-sity in ethnicity, race, geography,age, practice area? The lawyers pro-filed here represent the breadth ofdiversity in many of its meanings.Reading about their lives, though,reveals what we talk about when wetalk about diversity: excellence andachievement. Their paths to successmay vary, but their accomplishmentsin practice—and love for theirwork—demonstrate how they excel.

This month, also read a roundupof the current unsettled state of thelaw on affirmative action in lawschool admissions and a provocativepiece that dissects some myths surrounding that admissions tool.

DiversityinPractice

PHOTOGRAPHY BY JOHN BECKETTMAKEUP BY JULIE KOETH

15 Alive and KickingLisa Loo’s Fulfilled LawPractice

16 Life in a FishbowlResponsibility, Rewards andMentorship

19 Bold MovesOne Lawyer’s SustainingPractice

20 Learning on the JobLitigator Loves the Diverse Caseload

22 Circuit Court ScrapAffirmative Action PathUnclear to Law Schools

27 Myths and Facts About AffirmativeAction

30 A Historic FirstAsian American ConferenceComes to Arizona

15O C T O B E R 2 0 0 1 A R I Z O N A AT T O R N E Y

Born in Macau and married to aCambodian political refugee,Lisa Loo knows what it meansto face diversity head on.

Though she’s lived in the United Statessince she was 8, her life’s experiences havebeen full of interesting twists and turns.

She finds diversity at work, where she isthe Associate General Counsel for ArizonaState University. In that position, she han-dles a variety of cases. On any given day,she will negotiate contracts from real estateand development to procurement. Shehandles risk management matters andoversees immigration issues that pertain tomany of ASU’s foreign instructors.

“I came to ASU because of the diversi-ty,” Loo says. She spent years in firmswhere her colleagues were specialists, whileshe remained a generalist. She says it wasfrustrating at times, but her hard work paidoff. She was precisely what ASU neededwhen she applied for the job eight yearsago. Now she’s spinning the plates withher multifaceted caseload, and loving everyminute of it.

Loo stays busy outside work too, whereshe makes it a priority to “give somethingback” to her community. She’s beeninvolved with many civic groups, includingthe State Bar of Arizona’s Committee onWomen and Minorities and the Arizona

State Advisory Committee to the U.S.Commission on Civil Rights. Loo is also anoriginal board member of the ArizonaAsian American Bar Association. She saysher capacity as board member often meansserving as a historical reminder to newmembers: “Our younger members arealways enthusiastic and eager to getinvolved,” Loo says, “but they don’talways know why we do many of the thingswe do or why we have hurdles still to over-come.”

Before joining ASU’s legal team, Loowas with the firm Streich Lang in Phoenix.She worked as a corporate finance associ-ate for five years, but she saw one prob-lem: “I always wanted to be a mother,”Loo said. “If I wanted to see my childrenand have a quality relationship with them,I couldn’t keep going the way I wasgoing.” That’s when ASU came along.

Her husband travels for business often,so Loo is the primary caregiver of theirthree young children. She doesn’t mind,though, because now she has the flexibili-ty to attend a school play or her son’skarate practice. After the kids are tuckedin, Loo finishes up important projects athome.

At a bar association seminar some yearsback, Loo spoke on the importance of bal-ancing career and home. She gave simple

advice: “Don’t be afraid to ask for helpwhen your friends offer. Sometimes, asworking mothers, we often feel afraid toask, as if to show weakness. There’s noth-ing better than having a network ofresources and support, so you can findhappiness at work and home.”

Loo is pleased to say that she is a blackbelt in tae kwan do, and in those studies iswhere she met her husband. Though shehas not been in the ring in years, she oftenuses those skills in the professional arena.“My husband taught me that when you aresparring, always look your opponent in theeye. You always learn something from peo-ple when you are not afraid to look themin the eye.”

Are there still challenges for profession-al women? Sometimes, says Loo, yes. Shehas been mistaken as a secretary once ortwice, but she was too busy to worry aboutit. Looking back on her career, Loo knowsthat she has a knack for getting to the heartof matters, and she doesn’t have to play the“zero-sum” game—winning at all costs.For Loo, it’s about dealing in good faith sothat all parties get what they desire.

A final bit of wisdom: “Let yourstrengths carry you. If I have a goodroundhouse kick, I’m gonna stick with aroundhouse! I may not always win, butI’m okay as long as I stay in the ring.”

aliveLisa Loo’sFulfilled LawPractice

kicking&BY HEATHER PLAYFORD

W W W. A Z B A R . O R G

16 A R I Z O N A AT T O R N E Y O C T O B E R 2 0 0 1 W W W. A Z B A R . O R G

Diversity in PracticeDiversity in Practice

In 1995, Cecil Patterson, Jr. becameArizona’s first African Americanappellate court judge. It was the lat-est in a string of “firsts” that has kept

him in the public eye for 30 years.“It puts you in a fishbowl,” says

Patterson, who still presides in the statecourt of appeals. “It’s difficult because youhave to recognize who you are, to sit downand decide whether you can become theperson who is the standard bearer, the rolemodel, the mentor, the trailblazer. Theperson who—as bad as it may sound—willmake it easier for those who follow, so theydon’t have to cope with or climb over thesame barriers that you had to.”

As a young man of color coming of ageduring the civil rights era, nearly every-thing that Patterson wanted to do wouldset him up to become one of the first,intended or not—law student, attorney,judge. More compelling than his history offirsts, though, is Patterson’s history ofservice in the profession and the commu-nity.

He earned his law degree from ArizonaState University in 1971, and then workedon fellowship for a year as a staff attorneyfor the Maricopa County Legal AidSociety. That early work in the field helpedmold Patterson’s view of the world—aview that began to take shape, he says, as a

young boy working at his family’s laundrybusiness.

“My dad’s laundry was located in a rel-atively impoverished neighborhood in theheart of the city in Newport News,Virginia,” says Patterson. “So I gotexposed to a lot of activity, to everydaycomings and goings, as I was growing up.That exposure to the lives of people whowere less fortunate than I was helped fos-ter an empathy that I still have today and arespect for the challenges that peopleface.”

Patterson tried his hand at private prac-tice for a year, but he soon discovered thatoperating a business wasn’t what motivat-ed him. He just wanted to practice law.

He went on to serve as legal counseland housing discrimination attorney forthe Phoenix Urban League and as a trialdeputy in the Maricopa County PublicDefender’s Office. In 1980, he becameArizona’s first African American superiorcourt judge—a post Patterson applied foran unprecedented eight times beforereceiving the appointment.

“It was frustrating as all get-out,because I knew that I could do the work,”reflects Patterson, shaking his head andsmiling. “But it was going to change theculture, and a lot of people weren’t readyfor that or didn’t want that.”

With perseverance, Patterson overcamethe barriers, as he had so many times in thepast. And he found himself once again inan environment, in a culture, with whichhe was not only unfamiliar but also, attimes, still somewhat unaccepted. “Andthat’s when you recognize that you’re inthe fishbowl, and you will always be in thefishbowl,” he says.

Patterson has held numerous leadershipand board positions in professional andcommunity organizations, including theYMCA, United Way, Samaritan HealthServices, Red Cross and NAACP. He hasserved the Arizona and Maricopa Countybars and the American Bar Association,and most recently he was appointed chairof the ABA’s Judicial Council, an organi-zation of 1,800 predominantly AfricanAmerican judges, justices and judicial offi-cials. As a result of his involvement,Patterson has received numerous honors,including the City of Phoenix MartinLuther King Jr. “Living the Dream”Award, the National Association ofAttorneys General Marvin Award, theArizona Black Lawyers AssociationTrailblazer Award, and the ASU College ofLaw Distinguished Achievement Award.

Clearly, Patterson not only proved hecould do the work; he proved he’s worthyof having been the first, the person whohas made it a little easier for those who fol-lowed.

But at the heart of it all, and after allthese years, he still just wants to practicelaw. Patterson’s greatest reward, he says,comes from mentoring the young lawyerswho clerk in his office. “I like to help bringthem along, to mold them. And out ofthat comes the satisfaction that I will beperpetuating something that means soincredibly much to me.”

Jessica McCann is a professional writerbased in Scottsdale.

life in aResponsibility,Rewards andMentorship

fishbowl

BY JESSICA McCANN

Diversity in PracticeDiversity in Practice

19O C T O B E R 2 0 0 1 A R I Z O N A AT T O R N E YW W W. A Z B A R . O R G

put a baby to sleep.”She recalls her boys, then 4 and 2,

remarking on the hall of judges’ portraitsin the superior court. “Where are the ladyjudges?” they each asked, and she had totell them that there had not been many.

Ybarra enjoyed being a judge, and shemisses it. “I like making decisions. I feel likeI’m good at that, well suited for it. I likedthe variety.” And civil cases allowed her toindulge her lifelong love of learning: “Thefun part was listening to expert witnesses. Ihave always liked knowing things about dif-ferent occupations. You just learn a lot.”

Her decision to leave the job came afterher sons’ comments revealed how muchthey missed having their lawyer–parents athome more often. She agonized over herdecision but has no regrets, because it ulti-mately was very important for her childrenand for herself. “It certainly changed thecourse of my professional career. But in itthere were opportunities to do otherthings.”

While at home, Ybarra was careful tokeep involved with her profession. Sheserved as a Bar Governor and as a judgepro tem. Then, in 1995, she was hired byAttorney General Grant Woods as his chiefof the civil rights division.

In August 2000, she and Bruna Pedrini

Consider how you would react:You have just been named ajudge, a position toward whichyou have worked for years.

You’ve hardly pounded your gavel when alawyer approaches your clerk while inrecess: He wants to see your diplomas tobe sure you are, indeed, a Harvard-educat-ed attorney, as had been reported.

And, oh yes, in the scenario you are thefirst and youngest Hispanic woman to beappointed to the Maricopa County bench.

If your first reaction is “Throw the bumout,” you are not on the same wavelengthas Gloria Ybarra, who was appointedsuperior court judge at the tender age of32. Instead, she laughs at the memory.Incidents like that just have to be con-fronted with good humor, Ybarra says.After all, there are bigger fish to fry.

And in Ybarra’s career, she has landedsome big ones. She began her law career in1978 working at a politically connectedPhoenix firm. Eager for trial practice, shemoved to the U.S. Attorney’s Office in1980. As she says, “I was anxious to getgoing.”

All along, Ybarra knew she wanted tobe a judge. In fact, she first applied to theMerit Selection Commission in 1983,when she had the minimum five years’practice under her belt. Today, Ybarra sayswith a laugh, “I was a little bold.” It paidoff: In 1985, she was appointed judge.

Speaking with Ybarra, you learn abouther children—two sons and one daugh-ter—and the integral roles they played inher work life. When she was appointed tothe bench, she was pregnant with herdaughter. “She went with me to the courtfor about five weeks,” says Ybarra.“There’s nothing like an oral argument to

left the AG’s office to open their own firm,now named Ybarra Pedrini PLLC. Theysought to spend their days in work theyfelt would sustain their spirits and the spir-its of young people. They focus on civilrights, conflict resolution and mediation.They work with schools and municipalitiesto institute preventative measures tocounter bullying and violent outbursts.She sees serious problems in schools,“issues of differences, issues of people feel-ing to be so different from each other thatthey self-segregate.”

Ybarra’s eagerness to learn is connectedto a great fortune she feels in her life: herparents’ belief in the importance of educa-tion. Neither progressed beyond eighthgrade, although both earned their GEDs.And they supported their children as theygrew up in working-class downtownPhoenix and pursued higher learning. Herparents’ legacy is evident as Ybarra sayswhat she would do if she had more time:“I would go back to school. I love historyand would go back to do a degree in it”and to study women leaders. But that planwill wait in line behind her other boldendeavors.

Gloria Ybarra preaches what she prac-tices. She mentors young women and hasworked with the Hispanic Mother–Daughter Program at ASU, designed toaid eighth-grade girls and their moms. Asshe speaks of working one-on-one with thewomen, she recalls her years at HarvardLaw as a young Hispanic woman: “It wasnot a particularly comfortable place tobe.” She aims to make the halls of higherlearning and professional life more com-fortable places for these girls; after all,many of them may be as “anxious to getgoing” as she was.

bold moves

One Lawyer’sSustainingPractice

BY TIM EIGO

20 A R I Z O N A AT T O R N E Y O C T O B E R 2 0 0 1 W W W. A Z B A R . O R GW W W. A Z B A R . O R G

Diversity in PracticeDiversity in Practice

want to learn, but you do,” he laughs,adding that it was months before he coulddrink milk again after that case.

Williams earned his undergraduatedegree from the University of Arizona withhighest distinction in 1976, and then wenton to Yale Law School to graduate in1979. He accepted a position with Snell &Wilmer and was named a partner five yearslater. This made Williams the first AfricanAmerican to become a partner in a majorPhoenix law firm. Nearly a decade later, he

became the first African American to beelected president of the Maricopa CountyBar Association.

“Those were real positives in my life,going back 10 to 15 years, because theywere goals in a career path. And there had-n’t been any other African Americans inthose positions, so if I was going to reachthose goals, I had to be the first,” saysWilliams. “I have to admit, my answerwould probably be different today if I wasgoing to be the ‘first’ at something. Itwould be positive in the sense that it’sover, but negative in the sense that there

Ever wonder what cows eat?Lonnie Williams Jr. knows. Wantto see how a heart and lungmachine works? Give Williams a

call. And how, exactly, does electricity getfrom the power plant to your hair dryer?He could tell you that, too.

As a practicing attorney and partner atSnell & Wilmer in Phoenix, Williams learnsabout all sorts of things completely unre-lated to the field of law. It’s one of the rea-sons he loves his job.

“Over the course of time,” saysWilliams, “I’ve had the benefit of learninga tremendous amount about a lot of differ-ent industries, and it’s fascinating. It nevergets boring, because there is an aspect oflearning to everything I do. It’s easiersometimes to learn the law than it is tolearn what the deal is with your client’sparticular issues.”

“For example, I did a case years agoregarding a byproduct of the cotton seedthat cows eat, that actually can condemnthe milk. So I learned what cows eat. … Ofcourse, some things you don’t necessarily

are still areas—whether they be business,civic or social—that we’re still doing ‘thefirst.’ We should be past that.”

So, rather than setting his sights onbeing first, Williams simply throws himselfinto his work. And his enthusiasm is evi-dent. You see it in his eyes and body lan-guage and hear it in his voice. He speaks ofhis work with a sincerity that only comesfrom truly loving what you do.

“I would absolutely love it if my kidswent into law someday,” he beams, as hischildren’s portraits smile back at him fromtheir prominent position on his officewalls. “I think it’s a highly noble profes-sion.”

Williams’ practice focused on medicalmalpractice law initially but has sinceexpanded to include a wide range of civillitigation in commercial business and realestate. He has extensive trial experiencerepresenting clients in employment, com-mercial, tort, banking and condemna-tion/eminent domain disputes.

From the pleasure that comes withlearning new things to the thrill of outma-neuvering an opponent, Williams thor-oughly enjoys trying cases. But he alsoconsiders the skill set it takes to win thosecases absolutely critical to one’s effective-ness as a lawyer.

“To effectively represent your client,the other side needs to know that, if nec-essary, you have the ability and the skill totake your case to a group of people you’venever met—and you don’t know what theydo, you don’t know what their prejudicesare, you don’t know what their beliefsare—and convince them that what you aresaying is more probably true than what theother side is saying,” says Williams. “Thatis the ultimate challenge.”

Jessica McCann is a professional writerbased in Scottsdale.

learningLitigator Lovesthe DiverseCaseload

jobon the

BY JESSICA McCANN