Become a better lawyer: running a case, doing a deal, moving in-house and other tips from the top

I’d been at the Bar for the whole of my working life. I was about 50 and I fancied a change. I wasn’t going to go to another set of chambers — 11 Stone Buildings was, as far as I was concerned, the best set for me — and I’d decided not to seek a full-time judicial appointment. So I started thinking about law firms.

Evolutionary, is how I’d describe the process. Which, on the whole, is not a bad way to make a decision — especially when it involves leaving something you’ve been doing for 28 years. I’d done a lot of work for Herbert Smith, they were interested in the possibility of starting their own specialist advocacy unit, and we got talking, initially just as a theoretical topic of interest. Over time our conversations became more focused, and in 2005, I made the move.

Tick the boxes. The main requirement is the completion of the Qualified Lawyers Transfer Test, a three hour open book exam. I remember going along as one of the oldest students to revision evenings at BPP law school; rather strange on reflection, although it barely registered at the time in the context of all the newness of the first six months at a law firm. I also called up the treasurer of Lincoln’s Inn to let them know what I was doing (and to find out whether or not they were going to expel me).

The huge contrast in physical environments sums it up pretty effectively. I’m looking down over Exchange Square next to Liverpool Street station with the trains chugging in and out, beyond which are skyscrapers: the Gherkin, CityPoint, 800,000 square feet of offices going up to the north of us. Compare that to the idyllic, ivory tower world of the Inns of Court, virtually unchanged over the last 150 years. I’d miss it if I wasn’t a bencher at Lincoln’s Inn (they didn’t expel me, incidentally, which I’m grateful for as I still spend a lot of my time there).

Of course, the differences extend beyond the physical. A City law firm is a little bit like a 24 hour, global factory: there’s much more of a collective ethos, that mentality of always being available to the client, and a huge amount of work that never goes away. Yes, I think I’m working harder as a solicitor than I was at the Bar. But some people want to work hard, and, at this stage of my life, I’m probably one of them.

I’ve learnt to be much more flexible. Initially, when a colleague would come down the corridor to ask me a question, I’d fire off a typical barrister’s one sentence answer and go back to whatever I was doing. I guess I was still looking at things from a self-employed person’s perspective; subconsciously, at least, expecting a slot to be scheduled in my diary and papers sent through in advance.

Be ready for more involvement at an earlier stage. Not necessarily in a hands on, running a case kind of way — my main role is still that of an advocate — but in terms of advising on specific problems that have presentational ramifications and looking at strategy during the preparation process. So when you eventually get to a hearing, you’ve usually got a set of papers that you’re pretty happy with.

The support is truly fantastic: partners with 20 or 30 years of experience, qualified non-legal management, business development training, paralegal and secretarial assistance . . . I could go on. You don’t do much on your own at a law firm. As a barrister, hopefully you have a great clerk, but that’s it.

I’ve encountered a mixture of reactions from members of the Bar. Some have looked on it as a lifeboat move, others as something of an adventure, and a few, as a little bit of a betrayal. Not that I’ve had people come up and spit at me, or anything, but there are a small proportion of barristers who regard what I’ve done as rather dangerous. Which suggests a degree of fear.

You’re not actually giving up very much. You carry what you’ve learnt and achieved during your years as a barrister with you, and use it for the rest of your career. What you lose is independence, not of thought process — you don’t forfeit an independent state of mind simply because you’re a partner with the solicitor who is running the case — but of lifestyle. So I can no longer say to myself, “It’s 4pm, I’ve done enough, I’m going home.” But, for me, as somebody who was ready for a new challenge, that has been a sacrifice worth making.

Murray Rosen, QC, is head of the advocacy unit at Herbert Smith. He was formerly head of chambers at 11 Stone Buildings

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