The Blank Page
Reflections By Mark Blank, Jr., Esquire
B
efore reading further (that is, if you choose to do so), I urge you to peruse “Reflections” I: Reflections, by the Honorable Mark L. Tunnell (New Matter, Fourth Quarter, 2021). Long before he became a judge, I referred to Judge Tunnell (hereinafter, “Mark,” “Mark I” or “Judge”) as Mark I and to myself as Mark II. Prior to meeting Mark, I recognized his name. Early on, I became an avid reader of the Chester County Law Reporter. I noted that Mark was the publication’s editor and chief headnote writer (long before my own editorship). Then, some time in 1978, when I was an associate in a Chester County law firm, I was presented with a research assignment (one of many). My senior advised me to contact Mark who, at the time, was an associate with Cremers, Morris and Greenwood (later known as Cremers, Morris, Greenwood and Tunnell). I telephoned Mark and left a message with the receptionist. Mark did not know who I was but, nevertheless, promptly returned my call. After I explained the problem, Mark read to me the memorandum that he prepared for his senior partners. (This was long before facsimiles and emails, when such method of communication was customary.) My next contact with Mark illustrated to me that he was a real Chester County lawyer, representing people from all walks of life as well as businesses and estates. Mark was counsel for the Estate of Darlington, the decedent being a descendant of the founding fathers of West Chester.1 (I had a minimal involvement with the case.) A little later, there was Berman v. Beale. I inherited the plaintiff, Lily Berman, from the Chester County Lawyer 14 | New Matter
PART II
Referral Service. Bruce Beale owed her about $1700. Lily had sued Bruce in District Justice Court, where she prevailed. Mark, who had not represented Bruce in the Justice of the Peace Court, took on the appeal. Lily claimed that Bruce had an antique store. In reality, as Mark explained to me, the inventory was not antiquities; it was junk. Mark did not play games. He walked into the arbitration, approached me, and told me that he would agree to an award. His offer was the total amount of Lily’s claim. Accepted as agreed; award entered. Some weeks later, I telephoned Mark to discuss payment arrangements. He informed me that Bruce had passed away. Lily, not concerned about the loss of a friend, inquired as to how she was going to be paid. Well, there was no estate, and there would not be one. Of course, a creditor can raise an estate, as I explained to Lily. (I sent her on her way.) The case illustrated to me that Mark was a gentleman, a squire, a country lawyer. Yes, at that time, most of us were country lawyers in a closely knit bar association, practicing law in a county that was predominantly rural.2
Our next rendezvous was at a Common Pleas arbitration. I was on the Board of Arbitrators with Chairman Lawrence E. MacElree, Esquire. Mark represented the plaintiff in a suit over three pairs of pants. The issues were who owned the pants and what was the value. My recollection, Mark II, was that Larry led us to rule against you. (Please correct me if I am wrong.) After Mark joined the big city law firm, Gawthrop, Greenwood and Halsted (n/k/a Gawthrop Greenwood), and became a certified civil trial lawyer, he invited me to join him for lunch at the West Chester Country Club. At Isabelle Darlington, Esquire, was the first female lawyer in Chester County, and president of the Chester County Bar Association in 1941. 2 Exton consisted of an old country hotel, a Howard Johnson’s, a diner and a filling station. Elmer and Peg Polite, soon to form Mr. Sandwich Coffee Shop, owned the Guernsey Cow, which was slightly to the east of the Crossroads. Charlestown Township was farmland. Phoenixville was a small industrial town. Southern Chester County was redneck country with mushroom farms housing illegal aliens. Coatesville was Lukens Steel and vice versa. 1
