By Albert S. Dandridge III
I do not drink alcohol. Unlike most people, I stopped drinking when I turned 21. I got drunk on my 21st birthday in Okinawa, on my way back home between multiple tours in the Vietnam War. I will confess that I do drink the eggnog that I make during the Christmas holidays, which I will spike with a little rum.
So why do I have a favorite bartender? My favorite bartender is my favorite, and only, uncle, who passed away two years ago at the age of 93 – The Honorable Paul A. Dandridge.
Like many aspiring Black attorneys during the 1950s and early 1960s, my uncle had to work full time while going to law school, as did I in the late 1970s. He held many different jobs, including working at the medical examiner's office - where he heard about my grandmother’s (his mother's) death for the first time while on the job - cab driver, caterer, post office clerk (along with many other aspiring Black attorneys), but he is most noted for tending bar while going to Temple University James E. Beasley Law School at night. I think it was his favorite job, bar none. I knew that my father, who passed away much too early, believed that it was his brother’s favorite job.
After law school, he became an assistant district attorney, magistrate judge, Municipal Court judge, and finally Common Pleas Court judge, a position he held when he retired.
I do not know who adored my grandfather, his father, more, me or my Uncle Paul. I will give him the nod since he knew him longer. I remember well when my uncle was on the bench, my retired grandfather and namesake, who was a political party committee chairman, would follow the same routine every workday morning. He would get up, put on a suit and tie, take the El train down to City Hall, take care of whatever business he needed to take care of there and then go and sit in the back of my uncle’s courtroom and watch with pride. In the afternoon, he would catch the bus over to the racetrack in New Jersey. Initially, my uncle was a little annoyed at his father sitting in the back of his courtroom every day, but then he realized that if this is what his father wanted to do, so be it. He earned it.
When I got out of the Marines, my uncle and my grandfather insisted that I go to law school. I did. One of my regrets is that my grandfather wanted to see me practice in Philadelphia so that he could visit my office; unfortunately, he passed away before I returned home to Philadelphia after a stint at the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission in Washington, D.C., after I graduated from law school. However, I think I made up for it when my uncle Paul, after he retired from the bench, secured office space at my law firm and allowed my legal assistant to adore him. Two of my four sons bear his name as their first or middle names.
He was a member of the five-person Liacouras Committee that was appointed in 1970 by the then Chancellor of the Philadelphia Bar Association “to investigate the claims of possible discrimination against Black law students in these procedures.” In January 1971, the Board of Governors of the Philadelphia Bar Association adopted a resolution accepting the findings of the Liacouras Committee that forever changed the way bar examination was administered. After that resolution and changes in the administration of the bar examination, admissions of Black student applications grew exponentially. I was proud to nominate the Liacouras Committee to receive the Philadelphia Bar Association’s Justice Sonia Sotomayor Award, with the four members still living present for the award in 2012.
From 1965, when he graduated from law school and started working as an assistant district attorney under the then District Attorney Arlen Specter, until he retired from the bench as a Common Pleas Court family division jurist in 1984, Uncle Paul was so respected and esteemed for his common-sense approach and empathy for those with whom he interacted and appeared before him. He advocated for those in whom he saw a little of himself. He was particularly concerned about young Black men and those who suffered with drug addiction. He was recognized nationally for his work on their behalf.
I believe much of his demeanor as a judge came from his stint as a bartender -
They are both open to the public.
They both listen to your problems.
They both decide whether to take your money.
They both tell you when it is time to go home.
Albert S. Dandridge, III (adandridge@ schnader.com), is a partner of Schnader Harrison Segal & Lewis, LLP. He is a Marine Vietnam Combat Veteran, who received, among other awards, a Bronze Star with Combat “V” for Valor and a Purple Heart, and is the editor-in-chief of The Philadelphia Lawyer.
