Performing As A Clown Makes Me A Better Lawyer

Many children dream of being a firefighter, a jet fighter pilot, or a South Pole explorer when they grow up. Instead, for me, the fantasy was to become a clown.

I am not sure if that fantasy came from children's books that glorified the circus or films depicting circus life from the Saturday matinee, but by the time I reached school age, I developed the unfortunate moniker of the class clown. Then, through high school and college, I satisfied my performance cravings by joining the drama club and performing with the high school and university band and orchestra.

When my thoughts turned to entering law school, there was a perception of the need to be stoic and serious and to emulate Perry Mason and Atticus Finch, so my lingering daydreams of clowning had to be put on the bottom shelf.

As I progressed through the development of my legal practice, first in Maryland and then, beginning in 1986, in Florida, I continued to realize that clients, the judiciary, and the general public expected attorneys to be serious, generally without humor. And they certainly did not expect an attorney to be clowning around.

Fortunately for me, more than 25 years ago, I was given the unique opportunity to provide legal services for Macy's. I was immediately struck by the great degree of professionalism within the members of the Macy's in-house legal staff, but, at the same time, I noticed a tone of some jocularity that surfaced at appropriate times during and after serious conversations concerning professional matters. In the background, like millions and millions of Americans, I grew up watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade on television, and when I started my own family, I continued the tradition. I was always fascinated by the fact that so many people were organized to participate in a three-hour extravaganza that included bands, performers, floats, balloons, and, most importantly, clowns.

Somewhere around 2011, in a discussion with one of the Macy's in-house counsel, in a moment when we were engaging in small talk, I casually mentioned my fantasy of becoming a clown in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. To my amazement, my friend said that, coincidentally, he was Macy's "clownsul"—he acted as legal advisor for the Macy's entertainment division.

I immediately jumped upon this eureka moment and asked how I could become a clown in the parade. When my friend recognized that I was serious, he told me that I met the first prerequisite of having a substantial affiliation with Macy's. Furthermore, I would need to enroll in Clown U (part of the Big Apple Circus in New York) to complete a training regimen and meet their requirements.

I immediately enrolled myself and my wife (without initially telling her), and the following November, we made several trips to New York to prepare for and participate as clowns in our first parade. Due to the strenuous nature of the extended route and cold weather, my wife retired as a parade clown following the initial year's participation.

To say that being a clown in the parade for more than a decade has changed my legal career would truly be an understatement.

After the first year's participation, I was hesitant to publicize this extracurricular activity for fear of clients believing that I was less than serious. However, as a result of an article in The Wall Street Journal's Pro Bankruptcy that highlighted my then-recent parade activity, I learned that clients, friends, and even the judiciary expressed admiration and even some jealousy that I had engaged in a life outside the practice of law. 

It is common to think that good lawyers stand out in a crowd. In fact, the sad truth is that most lawyers are a commodity item, and in order to stand out, we need to be different. My greatest revelation as a result of my decade of participating as a clown was that I began to stand out—not only for my legal ability or professionalism, but because I was a clown. 

When I was introduced at legal and social gatherings, people would say, "He is a lawyer, but guess what? He is also a clown." Word of mouth began to spread, and I was eventually featured on a PBS documentary depicting the behind-the-scenes, yearlong preparation to be in the parade. After that, even in serious judicial proceedings when I had made a presentation to the court, I would hear the refrain from the judge, "Mr. Tatelbaum, you're not clowning around, are you?" This would, on occasion, unnerve a client in the courtroom who was unaware of my extracurricular activity.

With lawyer advertising inundating the local TV and billboard market in many areas, and with a greater number of young attorneys attempting to climb the ladder of success, it is becoming more difficult for an energetic and entrepreneurial attorney to find a legitimate and acceptable method to stand out in a crowd.

Of course, it is necessary that the legal work be top-notch. But more than that, whether it is by volunteering for a nonprofit organization, becoming active in a religious institution, or writing articles, aspiring attorneys must be appropriately aggressive in marketing, because unlike in "Field of Dreams," if you build a practice without it, the clients will not come.

As each Thanksgiving Day approaches, representatives of clients, friends, coworkers, and even judges contact me to find out what costume I will be wearing during the upcoming parade so that they can look for me during the television broadcast. In so doing, they seek out details of what it is like to be a parade participant.

To my sometimes chagrin, I am better known as "Chuckles the Clown" than as Charles Tatelbaum the attorney. Having this opening to converse on such a unique and unusual topic has created an opportunity for one-on-one dialogue that would normally be strained if I initiated contact. For all lawyers, it's important to be able to connect with clients, counsel, and even judges on a deeper level.

An additional benefit to the clown training and experience (which is renewed each year in preparation for the parade) is that I am forced to stay in shape and train so that I can jog and keep pace while wearing a costume, deal with New York November weather, and survive the parade with no bathroom breaks.

Further, I believe that training and performing as a clown, which I also do on a volunteer basis for neighborhood and other nonprofit associations, has made me a better communicator. I have noticed that I have developed better skills in face-to-face communications with acquaintances and strangers, as clowning in the parade requires us to interact with thousands of adults and children craving attention through interactive entertainment.

To succeed as a lawyer, you must be confident in your ability to authentically and clearly communicate with anyone you encounter in your day-to-day work. By focusing on the reaction of those with whom I communicate, I can better read the situation and respond more effectively.

I feel lucky and blessed that I have had this unique opportunity to enhance my professionalism, career, and even marketing abilities while, at the same time, having wonderful fun. Where else can someone who spends most of his time being stoic in meetings with clients and in court hearings stick out his tongue, make animal noises, and squeeze his nose to make people happy?