This story is respectfully dedicated to the creators of "Hardcastle and McCormick" -- Stephen J. Cannell and Patrick B. Hasburgh. Many thanks to both of you for these two enduring and endearing characters.
NEW BEGINNINGS
by
Owlcroft
There were forty-three people in attendance when the doors opened for the first time to the public. The main room was packed and there were smaller crowds in all four offices and the tiny kitchenette. A reporter from the Los Angeles legal paper cornered Mark and held up a tape recorder. As Hardcastle passed by on the way to the table with the coffee and cookies, he heard, "We've got a rotating set of very experienced attorneys in every area of law who've volunteered to do their pro bono work for our clients. It's the right of every person in this country to have the best legal representation and advice–"
"Hey, Milt!" A familiar voice got the judge's attention. "Over here."
"Frank," beamed Hardcastle. "Hey, I didn't know you were gonna be here. What do you think?" He gestured at the crowded lobby.
Harper picked up another cookie and smiled. "As the official representative of our beloved Police Commissioner, I am proud to say that this is a great day for the community and for our citizens." He took a bite of cookie and washed it down with coffee. "As myself, I think it's great." He grinned broadly. "Who'd'a thunk it anyway? I mean, even a coupla years ago, did you have any idea that this was the direction things would go in?"
The retired judge shook his head and reached across the lieutenant for a cookie himself. "Not a clue. And didja see the name? He kept that a surprise until this morning." He examined the cookie, then took another so it wouldn't be lonely. "Then all of a sudden, he figured he oughtta get my permission first – once the sign was already painted and up and announced to the papers!"
"It's a nice thought," Frank swallowed more coffee. "You didn't know, huh?"
"Nope. A few months ago, he said he wanted to name it after me, and I wouldn't let him. Guess he figured I couldn't say 'no' to that." Hardcastle polished off his first cookie and started on the second.
"She'd be proud." Frank dusted crumbs off his shirt front.
"Yeah, so'm I. But don't tell him that."
"Him who?" asked McCormick over the judge's shoulder. "How're you doing, Frank?" He extended a hand to Harper.
The retired jurist grunted uncomfortably and made room for the younger man. "Thought you were doing an interview with the Daily Journal."
Mark, nodding, scooped up four of the rapidly disappearing cookies. "Finished that one and now somebody from the Times wants a few paragraphs. At least for the Journal, I didn't have to explain pro bono."
Frank crinkled his eyes and pursed his lips. "That's the work lawyers have to do for free every year, right? State Bar pretty much makes it mandatory?"
"Yeah, and you got all these high-powered guys with all these different specialties, so why not get 'em organized to help out people who really need that kinda lawyering?" McCormick finished his cookies, muttered, "Once more onto the beach, dear fiends," and headed for the Times reporter.
Hardcastle watched him start his interview spiel again, then turned back to Harper. "He's got it down pat by now. He's got at least one specialist volunteering in every field of law, even maritime, can you believe that?"
Harper shrugged. "McCormick? Yeah, I believe it. I also," he grinned slyly, "believe you helped quite a bit. Calling in some favors, talking the idea up at bar get-togethers, leaning on some of your old buddies." He raise a questioning eyebrow. "Am I right?"
"Ah, maybe a little. Not really. Not very much, anyway." The judge rubbed a thumb across his nose. "It really was the kid's idea." He shook his head. "I gotta stop calling him a 'kid'. Anyway, he dreamed up the whole clinic deal and it was his idea to bring in all the experts fulfilling their pro bono requirements. Yeah, maybe I made a call or two –"
"And maybe fronted some of the dough for the rent of this place?" Frank looked around at the spartan furnishings. Two potted plants, thank-you gifts from the rental agent, were the only decorations. "Okay, maybe it wasn't a whole lot, in this neighborhood, but the office furniture and that sign over the door?"
"Judge Hardcastle, could we get a picture of you out front, maybe looking up at the sign?" Another reporter shouldered in before the judge could respond to Frank's intimation. "And let me ask you about that name – the Nancy Hardcastle Memorial Legal Clinic."
"Yeah, sure. Hang on just a sec." He turned to Harper. "There's another box of cookies in the coffee room; couldja bring 'em out for me?"
"You betcha. Go do your photo op," Frank slapped the judge on the shoulder and started edging toward the room McCormick jokingly referred to as "the staff lounge". As he passed the Times reporter, he heard her ask about the clinic name and paused to hear Mark's answer.
"It was really important for the Hardcastle name to be over the clinic door. You're probably familiar with Milton Hardcastle," McCormick looked around, spotted the judge outside, and pointed him out to the reporter, "but he didn't want his name to be used. So we decided to honor his late wife's memory instead. You see, one thing that Judge Hardcastle has always impressed on me is that justice is for everyone, not just one segment of our society. That's why a clinic like this one is so important. Justice is the right of every person –"
Frank recognized the beginning of the speech he'd heard countless times before and continued his push to the cookie holding area. As he passed the door to McCormick's office, he paused to admire the small brass name plate that read: Mark McCormick, Esq., Managing Director. He gave the plate a small rub with his sleeve to burnish it, grinned broadly, and murmured, "Yeah, I think we're all pretty proud of both of you."
finis