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| Marcel Strigberger |
I recently made a destiny moment decision. I tossed out my McGill University law schoolbooks. Well, maybe not exactly a destiny moment. But it made me think.
I was decluttering my house and figured that, given that I’d bought the books over 50 years ago and was retired from practice, I may not have too much use for them. However, I did feel invested in these tomes, and my decision to decimate my stable of legal information was not a simple one. I thought about each book before giving it the axe.
My first target was The Law of Contracts, by Cheshire and Fifoot.
It reported and analyzed iconic cases such as Carlill v. Carbolic Smoke Ball, where the defendant in 1890s England advertised a 100-pound reward to anybody who used their smoke ball and contracted the flu. They refused to pay up after Lily Carlill came down with the bug, arguing their gesture did not amount to a contract and their claim was “mere puffery.” Unfortunately for the defendant, the court made them pay for their puffery. Unforgettable case.
It also of course dealt with the seminal damages case of Hadley v. Baxendale. Huge stuff every law student had to know.
However, the case that stood out most in my mind was the 1860s Pearce v. Brooks, where a contract between a carriage owner and a prostitute was held to be unenforceable. The principle was that the carriage was going to be used to attract clients, thereby promoting immoral activities and being unenforceable as being contrary to public policy.
I’m not sure why this case still sticks in my memory. It’s certainly a bit different from Smoke Ball. In any event, was this a good enough reason to hang onto the book? Verdict? Toss.
Next on the block was The Law of Real Property by Megarry and Wade. I wanted to give this book, with its hundreds of pages, a fair trial. After over half a century, I did not recall much of the details of what I learned that made me sweat in order to pass the property exam. I did well remember the concept of fee simple, where in short, a purchaser owns the land outright. How relevant was that to me now, if ever? It occurred to me that in over 42 years of practice, whenever I represented somebody in a house purchase, I never once said to the client, “Hey Mr. Jones. You now own 127 Maple Street in fee simple.” Jones likely would have responded, “I thought the property was in Toronto.” Can’t blame Jones.
I also recall the book talking about the rare scenario of ownership in “fee tail.” This apparently is a conveyance of a property with restrictions as to who can inherit it. Getting back to Jones, I did not recall him or anybody else for that matter banging at my office door saying something like, “Hey Strigberger. I just inherited this house in fee tail. Can I leave it to my nephew Henry?” No doubt I would have had to ask for a washroom break and sneak out to hit my Megarry and Wade.
And giving the book a final flip through, I also stumbled upon the Rule in Shelley’s Case, arising out of a 16th-century English decision concerning life interests in land. I can’t say this discovery made my day. What to do? With some hesitation, I decided to mercilessly scrap it.
I would add that I may have acted in haste. I see a used hardcover available on Amazon for over $1,000. Ouch! I thought about Cheshire. Not the aforementioned jurist — the Cheshire Cat. The feline would probably be grinning at me. Alas! What’s done is done.
I continued my purge until I got to my Law of Torts by Fleming. What came to mind was Wagon Mound, that negligence causation case about the explosion on the cargo ship caused by a ship hand tossing something into the hold. I remembered there was actually a Wagon Mound 1 and a Wagon Mound 2. I don’t know what 2 was about nor was I going to drive deeper and find out. My wild guess was that the shipowners acquired a successor ship to Wagon Mound 1, and some lout made the same mistake of discarding a cigarette, or whatever it was, into the hold and boom. I figured I knew enough. Verdict? Dump.
And how did I dispose of these books? In the blue recycle bin of course. I recall the day the garbage truck arrived for the pickup. The loader did not even give this treasure trove of legal knowledge a second look. I guess he wasn’t interested in finding out more about the Rule in Shelley’s Case. Nor was I going to run out and try to entice him to take a look at Pearce v. Brooks.
At least I succeeded in decluttering my house somewhat. Actually, there is one book I kept — Black’s Law Dictionary. I found a great use for this five-inch-thick volume. When I feel like working at my desk standing, it makes a perfect reading stand.
Marcel Strigberger retired from his Greater Toronto Area litigation practice and continues the more serious business of humorous author and speaker. His book, Boomers, Zoomers, and Other Oomers: A Boomer-biased Irreverent Perspective on Aging, is available on Amazon (e-book) and in paper version. His new(!) book First, Let’s Kill the Lawyer Jokes: An Attorney’s Irreverent Serious Look at the Legal Universe is available on Amazon, Apple and other book places. Visit www.marcelshumour.com. Follow him on X @MarcelsHumour.
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