Law Firm Is a Fine Family Business, Some Will Argue

It’s noon on a recent day, and for lunch home-cooked chicken mole, rice and a healthful serving of vegetables is on the menu.

Lawyers Alicia and Margaret Molina eat together watching their telenovela, or soap opera, “Besame Tonto” (Kiss Me You Fool) on the tiny TV on the conference table.

Close friends, the two sisters relish the amicable work bond that’s nearly as tight as their blood ties.

Alicia, 36, and her 34-year-old sister Margaret make up the Immigration Legal Services Division in Boyle Heights, part of the International Institute of Los Angeles.

The State Bar of California doesn’t keep track of how many relatives practice law together, but a quick look at surnames in a directory of attorneys and law firms brings up hundreds of matches.

Among the more high-profile Los Angeles families are Mark Geragos, who followed his father Paul into criminal law and works with his brother Matt; and Andrew Flier, a criminal defense attorney, whose wife and father are lawyers and whose mother, Madeleine, is a state Court of Appeal judge.

Working together can drive families apart, as partnerships can break up following bitter disagreements or as young relatives leave to venture out on their own. But many speak glowingly of the benefits of receiving advice and support from those they know best.

The Molina sisters share a small office providing legal advice to immigrants and refugees.

“I’ve always looked up to her,” said Margaret, who said she followed her big sister’s example in pursuing a career in law.

That was news to Alicia, who was noticeably flattered by the remark. “I never thought of it as her following me, because she’s never said it until right now.”

An added benefit for the sisters is that they have complementary work styles.

Margaret shuns the public arena, preferring to prepare the witnesses, do research and, as the stronger writer (on this they both agree), compose briefs.

That’s fine with Alicia, who’s more than happy to represent their clients in court.

“She sees it as painful. I see it as glamorous,” Alicia said. “I just put on a power suit and go.”

Lunch is prepared daily by their mother, with whom Margaret lives. “She’s concerned about our health,” Margaret said. “We used to eat out all the time.”

Things are a bit different at the sleek offices of Phillips, Lerner & Lauzon, home to family law attorney Stacy Phillips, 45, and her 79-year-old father, Gerald.

Gerry is dieting, and most days his daughter Stacy is too busy for lunch, often out meeting with clients.

Stacy’s firm has represented high-profile clients such as ex-wives of actor Jean-Claude Van Damme and baseball player Darryl Strawberry.

It wasn’t always this way. When Gerry first joined the firm, he merely plugged in a phone and set up a desk in a corner of her Century City office. That lasted about a year.

Stacy’s assertive, clipped tone contrasts with her father’s easy, rolling prose. The profession of law, Gerry says, is worlds apart from when he started and from when his father was a lawyer. Gerry remembers when a handshake served as a retainer between lawyer and client. Today, Stacy has seven written agreements of varying lengths -- the basic version is 13 pages.

When he entered the profession, Gerry dictated his letters to a secretary; today, he’s savvy on e-mail and uses the Internet for research. Stacy prefers the phone and face-to-face conversation.

Clearly an admirer of her dad, Stacy said she learned from him how to practice law ethically.

Though Gerry bemoans the way law has changed -- “My father said law was a noble profession but it isn’t today” -- he said the things he and his daughter do are ultimately alike: “To some extent our goal is the same -- a good lawyer is a problem solver.”

Law also runs through the McNicholas family. John, his daughter Courtney and sons Patrick and Matthew all practice civil law together at McNicholas & McNicholas in Westwood. Patrick and John founded the firm in 1993, and Matt joined in 1998.

Matt and Patrick team up on cases. When trial comes, the pair moves to a hotel next to the courthouse in anticipation of the 16-hour days many cases demand. Spending so much time together could be difficult if not for the blood ties, they said.

“Most partnerships break up. [With us], that’s not going to happen because if an issue arises, it has to be taken care of,” Patrick said. Separating familial and professional matters poses challenges, though.

“There’s no natural break where you can say, ‘I’m going to go spend time with my family,’ ” said Patrick.

Courtney spent several years with a different law firm. When she quit after giving birth to twins, she thought she’d never return to work. Then her dad approached her, offering a part-time position. She couldn’t refuse. In 2002, she joined the firm.

Courtney, who works with her brothers on larger cases, says they can communicate with a simple look or a raised eyebrow. “You can be completely candid with each other and not be worried that they are going to think negatively.”

Their mother Diana has tried to keeping work and personal life separate. Several years ago, she banned legal talk at the dinner table. It didn’t last.

“We can’t get enough of each other. It’s built-in best friends,” Courtney said.

Even in their down time, all of the families stay close.

For Thanksgiving, Courtney and Patrick will vacation in Hawaii with their respective spouses and children.

You might find Stacy and her kids barbecuing with her parents, or together at a school function for Gerry’s grandkids.

When the Molina sisters are not working, they take swimming or art classes, or spend time with the crew of 16 women from their undergraduate years.

For all the time they spend together in the office and outside it, there is something the Molina sisters avoid: double dating.

“That’s the one thing we don’t do together,” Alicia said, laughing.