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Geoffrey Fieger | Courtroom brat, media star
He talks tough, plays rough
Scorched-earth tactics bring lawyer big money, a legion of detractors

Image
Charles V. Tines / The Detroit News

The days are busy -- and profitable -- for Geoffrey Fieger, downing coffee before court begins in Genesee County. The lawyer who rose to fame defending Jack Kevorkian is now a TV star and possible contender for Detroit mayor.



By Gregg Krupa / The Detroit News

    SOUTHFIELD -- Geoffrey Fieger won $26 million this year for a little boy who will suffer for the rest of his life from delivery room mistakes during his birth. It is believed to be the largest medical malpractice award in the history of the U.S. District Court for Western Pennsylvania.
   Fieger also recently obtained $465 for a stripper named Daiquiri, who claimed on the syndicated television show Power of Attorney that her 17-year-old sister owed her money for rent and a television. After Fieger pleaded with Daiquiri to make up with her sister at the end of the program, the women began shouting at each other.

Charles V. Tines / The Detroit News

A typical Geoffrey Fieger day begins with a workout at Exclusive Fitness in Southfield with his personal trainer Rich Rincher.

Image

Fieger, using body language while his opposition has its say, turns the courtroom into theater, his critics charge. But he has won several high-profile cases.


Noted cases
A series of cases have solidified Geoffrey N. Fieger's national reputation as a successful plaintiff's lawyer who also can handle criminal cases. They include:
   * Taylor v. Washington Hospital, a $26-million verdict in a Pennsylvania medical malpractice suit.
   * Curry v. Ryder Truck, a $30-million verdict in a Flint injury case.
   * Gilbert v. Chrysler, a $20-million sexual harassment verdict in Wayne County.
   * Amedure v. Warner Bros., a $25-million wrongful death verdict in Oakland County. This case sprang from the March 9, 1995, killing of Scott Amedure by Jonathan Schmitz after Amedure talked about his crush on Schmitz on the Jenny Jones show.
   * Oakland County v. Nathaniel Abraham, which secured a sentence to a juvenile-rehabilitation facility for an 11-year-old charged as an adult with murder.
   * Oakland County (and others) v. Dr. Jack Kevorkian, victorious in nine out of nine legal actions, criminal prosecutions and requests for injunctions.


Geoffrey N. Fieger
   Born: Detroit, Dec. 23, 1950.
   Education: Bachelor of arts in theater, University of Michigan, 1974; master of arts in speech, U-M, 1976; Juris Doctorate from Detroit College of Law, 1979.
   Profession: Named partner (with his late father, Bernard) and president of the law firm Fieger, Fieger, Schwartz & Kenney, P.C.
   Other activities: Failed Democratic nominee for governor, 1998. Radio talk show host, including Fieger Time, WXYT (AM-1270). TV appearances on the syndicated show Power of Attorney.
   Personal: Married to Keenie Fieger, no children.

   "At least I'm not stripping!" the teen hollered, prompting a nasty slur from Daiquiri: "At least I'm not a lesbian!"
   Whether setting records for jury awards, appearing on television's lurid daytime follies or floating his name as a 2001 mayoral candidate in Detroit, Fieger is riding a singular combination of roles to prominence among major litigators nationally.
   Abetted significantly by his controversial representation of Jack Kevorkian, his practice is increasingly lucrative. The demand for his services, in Michigan and beyond, is unrelenting. Fieger, who turns 50 Saturday, has gone from inheriting his father's successful, small firm in suburban Detroit 12 years ago to building a major practice.
   These are boom times for a man often caricatured as a courtroom brat. The outrageously critical remarks he has directed at opponents and judges, and courtroom tactics that have been harshly criticized -- even cited as violations of rules governing lawyers' behavior -- have done little to slow his momentum as a major mover among top lawyers.
   These days, he can pick from a host of cases, each capable of earning him and his firm several million dollars.
   "He's certainly a successful lawyer and an effective lawyer, and he certainly has the talent to be a good lawyer," said Yale Kamisar, a law professor at the University of Michigan. "But Geoffrey Fieger at his worst is, 'I'm the tough guy on the block. If you cross me, you'll be sorry.'
   "He's quite capable of being good without the histrionics. But look where the histrionics have gotten him. Anyone who needs a lawyer right now probably thinks of Geoffrey Fieger or Johnnie Cochran."
   
Work for success
   Fieger's prominence as attorney, media star and politician is paying enormous dividends -- evidenced, in part, by what he does with his money.
   When some lawyers talk about expanding their office, they mean adding rooms for new associates, library space or perhaps remodeling the reception area.
   Fieger wants a park.
   "I like green space," Fieger said, smiling from behind the desk in his office on 10 Mile Road. "I like the idea: Have parks around your buildings. Have beautiful things."
   He has bought some of the buildings close to his office, one valued by the Southfield assessor at $250,000 and the other at about $100,000. He plans on moving his firm -- Fieger, Fieger, Schwartz & Kenney -- into the larger building, and possibly clearing the rest of the land for a park.
   Fieger can afford that kind of talk. His firm has won at least $140 million in court awards and settlements in the past 18 months, and he spent all of his two-week "vacation" in Anguilla recently working on new cases.
   On his first day back at the office, Fieger was defensive when asked how someone could spend 14 days in the Caribbean and return so noticeably colorless.
   "I'm not that pale, am I?" he asks. "Yeah, 14 days. I worked every day -- all day. But that's the way I vacation! My wife would tell you that."
   
Kevorkian was catalyst
   Fieger's chronically obsessive work regimen attracts a succession of major cases. In a period of several months recently, he won a $25 million verdict in the Jenny Jones case; $30 million from the Ryder Truck firm in a personal injury case; $20 million from Chrysler in a sexual harassment case that is said to be the largest award nationally for that type of case; and $7 million from Detroit in a police brutality case. The fee to Fieger and his firm is routinely at least one-third of the award.
   "The Kevorkian publicity has really been a major impetus for him having access to such a hot source of cases," said David Cooper, a retired defense lawyer who used to face Fieger and who now does some appellate work from him. "I would say that, pre-Kevorkian, Geoffrey only occasionally got good cases."
   Fieger resolutely asserts that representing Kevorkian for free was a matter of principle -- a fight he was willing to undertake, he insists, regardless of the career impact. But he admits he was mindful that it could well pay off in the long run.
   "Sure, I was aware that the issue was large," Fieger said. "My national notoriety, obviously, stems from my work in that case."
   He also asserts that, despite critics' complaints, his decade-long representation of Kevorkian was the only time he played rough.
   "I had to with Kevorkian because these people wouldn't stop. (Oakland County Prosecutor) Dick Thompson, (Gov. John) Engler, the Legislature. I was dealing with a many-headed beast. If you drove a stake through its heart, it would resurrect itself."
   
Tough taskmaster
   As he moved about his firm on a recent afternoon, Fieger was a looming figure. The place is saturated with his persona.
   Sitting out in the reception area, visitors could readily hear his high-pitched disputations.
   "He moved the black vehicle!" Fieger howled, repeatedly. "What does that mean to you? He moved the black vehicle!"
   Fieger and a group of his partners and associates were inside, assembled around large tables in the first-floor conference room, discussing evidence in an upcoming trial. They prepared for a mock trial that evening before several groups of "jurors" the firm hires to rehearse presentations of cases.
   It is not done cheaply. People responding to ads are paid to sit in a few separate groups. Fieger, his partners and associates then listen to each group's reactions to consider how their case is playing. Sometimes, as in the mock trials of the Jenny Jones case, the rehearsal spurs a retooling of the approach.
   "I think the biggest misperception of me is that I somehow bully people into these verdicts," Fieger said. "We win because we work so hard and because we are fully prepared every time we represent a client."
   Current and former colleagues talk about hard work, long hours and "the difficulty of Geoffrey," as one former, young associate explained it. But others talk about the unique opportunity of working in the firm, the rewarding tasks and how it is often fun simply to be with Fieger.
   The phones in Fieger's firm ring constantly. Many of the calls are requests for representation. Young associates, who screen the calls and prepare synopses of potential cases, used to talk about handling 150 to 350 calls per week. But that was a few years ago. In one recent week, they handled 647 calls.
   "That is at a level of some of the 1-800 lawyers you see on television," says an ex-associate. "And that is ironic, because he absolutely hates that television advertising. He gets it all because of who he is."
   One person who stops in to the office looking for help on this day is so persistent, and perhaps so unstable, that one of Fieger's receptionists asks him, as he moves from one meeting to the next, if she should call the Southfield Police Department.
   "Yes, absolutely," Fieger says nonchalantly, as he steps into an elevator and the doors close. "Go ahead, call the cops."

Image
Charles V. Tines / The Detroit News

High-profile cases, radio and television shows have increased his notoriety in Metro Detroit and nationally.


   
Love him or hate him
   All of the meetings Fieger attends at his firm are crucial to the running of the office and to Fieger's practice, because he prepares few of the cases himself. Other lawyers play key roles in deposing witnesses, researching the law and preparing motions. Fieger sits in on meetings and sometimes directs the activity. But his more important task is absorbing the facts of the case and the law so that if a trial is necessary, he is prepared for his role.
   "Geoffrey's own office is behind glass in the firm, and I always joked that someone should hang a sign that says, 'In case of trial, break glass,' like on fire alarms," said Scott Decius, a former associate in the firm. "I don't know anyone who can do that, juggling these complex medical malpractice cases, the way he does it."
   While his scorched-earth tactics in the Kevorkian case and in others have earned him a legion of detractors -- many of whom fear him so much that they would not speak on the record for this story -- Fieger retains the respect of others, who say he is a talented lawyer who sometimes plays too rough.
   "Whether you like Geoffrey or not, you have to acknowledge that he has remarkable talent," said Cooper, the retired defense lawyer. "His abilities in front of a jury are simply remarkable."
   
Eager to employ
   Fieger will not say how much he earns, though he agrees with the suggestion that as a politician, the public has an interest in knowing.
   "We gross a lot," he said. "We do as well as any plaintiff's law firm. We have to. We have a lot of high-priced talent here."
Image
Charles V. Tines / The Detroit News

"I think the biggest misperception of me is that I somehow bully people into these verdicts," Geoffrey Fieger says of his critics. "We win because we work so hard."


   Indeed, there is. Fieger pays considerable salaries to a handful of partners who are increasingly integral to the growing practice.
   A sure sign of accomplishment for any plaintiffs' firm is the ability to reach across the aisle and hire defense lawyers from other law firms, respected opponents in the courtroom. Fieger has done precisely that with increasing frequency in recent years.
   A prime example is luring Jeremiah J. Kenney from the top-rank Kitch, Drutchas, Wagner & Kenney firm. Kenney had been the managing partner and a litigator at Kitch. His move to Fieger, Fieger, Schwartz and Kenney as a named partner about a year ago, removed his name from Kitch's door and stationary -- and sent shock waves throughout the Michigan bar.
   Most speculated that the peripatetic Fieger needed some help organizing his growing practice and that Kenney's management skills were his selling point.
   "That's simply not true," Fieger said. "We can always find good people who manage. I brought him in because he is a good trial lawyer. All of the trials had been funneling up to me. I can't do all of that. That's why Jerry's here."
   Lawyers who once worked with Fieger speculate that he pays his senior partners and himself a salary of about $500,000 and an annual bonus of about $2 million. Other former associates, however, think those estimates are overly conservative, especially when it comes to Fieger.
   
Publicity factor
   While he says he can readily pick from an array of interesting, lucrative cases, Fieger dismisses the notion that he accepts any representation that would yield publicity or further his political ambitions.
   "I respond to things very intuitively. And, frankly, I get bored very easily," Fieger said.
   But other lawyers say Fieger has nurtured a practice based on his ability to latch on to highly controversial cases that garner enormous media attention.
   For plaintiff's attorneys who often brandish a fearless, David-versus-Goliath reputation, and a willingness to engage in bruising court and public-relations battles, almost any publicity -- whether it is Fieger's 31 appearances on Power of Attorney or his nine-month campaign for governor in 1998 -- is useful.
   "Any form of notoriety, short of getting arrested for molestation of a child, will probably generate buzz for a lawyer," said J. Douglas Peters, of the firm of Charfoos & Christensen in Detroit, which competes with Fieger for cases. "But I actually think a lot of the negativity you hear applied to Geoffrey is jealousy. The vigor he applied to the Kevorkian cases has clearly caused some people to think that he will fight for them."
   Fieger also says he is not thinking about the national publicity or shoring up his political base among African Americans when he decided to represent the 11-year-old murder defendant Nathaniel Abraham or the family of Isaiah Shoels, who was murdered in the 1998 Columbine, Colo., school shootings.
   "I just don't think like that," he said. "I don't have to do anything I don't want to do. I have paid all of my dues."
   
Candidate again?
   Fieger does agree that the number of cases he has brought against Detroit has increased recently. But he says that has nothing to do with any plans to run for mayor.
   "I just find them more interesting," Fieger said. "There are a number (of incidents) that have occurred. Because I am Geoff Fieger, I get the higher-profile cases."
Image
Charles V. Tines / The Detroit News

Geoffrey Fieger greets a fan inside the Genesee County Courthouse in Flint.


   Indeed, with at least 10 lawsuits pending against the city, some people say Fieger's legal work might actually detract from a run for mayor. Observers said that frequently seeking major damages from a city that is often financially troubled invites criticism from rival candidates. It might raise the issue of how much someone who does not live in Detroit really cares about the city, they said.
   "I think it's an issue that can be dealt with, but it's an issue," said state Rep. Keith Stallworth, D-Detroit, who says Fieger remains highly popular in the African-American community because of his representation of clients who are disadvantaged. "I think people have said, 'Look, if you've got millions of dollars of lawsuits out there, outstanding against the city, does it really make sense for a CEO to put together a payout program to settle with yourself?'
   "That is a conflict, clearly, but he would just have to make a decision -- from an economic standpoint -- to yield (on the cases and give them to other law firms) and become a civic leader, instead."
   Many observers are confident that Fieger will never do that, especially given the way his firm is structured. Fieger says he is still considering running for mayor of Detroit next year. But he vows that after his 62 percent to 38 percent loss to Gov. John Engler two years ago, he is unlikely ever to spend significant amounts of his own money taking on an incumbent -- and he would not run against Mayor Dennis Archer.
   Fieger is aware of the problem his law practice presents in running for office. He makes clear that the practice is always a consideration against being a candidate.
   "It makes my clients nervous," he said. "Trust me, it sends shivers down my clients, my law partners -- I mean, everybody. They don't want me to do that."
   

You can reach Gregg Krupa at (313) 222-2610 or gkrupa@detnews.com.
Return to Fieger news page


Return to Fieger news page


Geoffrey Fieger | Courtroom brat, media star
He talks tough, plays rough
Scorched-earth tactics bring lawyer big money, a legion of detractors

Image
Charles V. Tines / The Detroit News

The days are busy -- and profitable -- for Geoffrey Fieger, downing coffee before court begins in Genesee County. The lawyer who rose to fame defending Jack Kevorkian is now a TV star and possible contender for Detroit mayor.



By Gregg Krupa / The Detroit News

    SOUTHFIELD -- Geoffrey Fieger won $26 million this year for a little boy who will suffer for the rest of his life from delivery room mistakes during his birth. It is believed to be the largest medical malpractice award in the history of the U.S. District Court for Western Pennsylvania.
   Fieger also recently obtained $465 for a stripper named Daiquiri, who claimed on the syndicated television show Power of Attorney that her 17-year-old sister owed her money for rent and a television. After Fieger pleaded with Daiquiri to make up with her sister at the end of the program, the women began shouting at each other.

Charles V. Tines / The Detroit News

A typical Geoffrey Fieger day begins with a workout at Exclusive Fitness in Southfield with his personal trainer Rich Rincher.

Image

Fieger, using body language while his opposition has its say, turns the courtroom into theater, his critics charge. But he has won several high-profile cases.


Noted cases
A series of cases have solidified Geoffrey N. Fieger's national reputation as a successful plaintiff's lawyer who also can handle criminal cases. They include:
   * Taylor v. Washington Hospital, a $26-million verdict in a Pennsylvania medical malpractice suit.
   * Curry v. Ryder Truck, a $30-million verdict in a Flint injury case.
   * Gilbert v. Chrysler, a $20-million sexual harassment verdict in Wayne County.
   * Amedure v. Warner Bros., a $25-million wrongful death verdict in Oakland County. This case sprang from the March 9, 1995, killing of Scott Amedure by Jonathan Schmitz after Amedure talked about his crush on Schmitz on the Jenny Jones show.
   * Oakland County v. Nathaniel Abraham, which secured a sentence to a juvenile-rehabilitation facility for an 11-year-old charged as an adult with murder.
   * Oakland County (and others) v. Dr. Jack Kevorkian, victorious in nine out of nine legal actions, criminal prosecutions and requests for injunctions.


Geoffrey N. Fieger
   Born: Detroit, Dec. 23, 1950.
   Education: Bachelor of arts in theater, University of Michigan, 1974; master of arts in speech, U-M, 1976; Juris Doctorate from Detroit College of Law, 1979.
   Profession: Named partner (with his late father, Bernard) and president of the law firm Fieger, Fieger, Schwartz & Kenney, P.C.
   Other activities: Failed Democratic nominee for governor, 1998. Radio talk show host, including Fieger Time, WXYT (AM-1270). TV appearances on the syndicated show Power of Attorney.
   Personal: Married to Keenie Fieger, no children.

   "At least I'm not stripping!" the teen hollered, prompting a nasty slur from Daiquiri: "At least I'm not a lesbian!"
   Whether setting records for jury awards, appearing on television's lurid daytime follies or floating his name as a 2001 mayoral candidate in Detroit, Fieger is riding a singular combination of roles to prominence among major litigators nationally.
   Abetted significantly by his controversial representation of Jack Kevorkian, his practice is increasingly lucrative. The demand for his services, in Michigan and beyond, is unrelenting. Fieger, who turns 50 Saturday, has gone from inheriting his father's successful, small firm in suburban Detroit 12 years ago to building a major practice.
   These are boom times for a man often caricatured as a courtroom brat. The outrageously critical remarks he has directed at opponents and judges, and courtroom tactics that have been harshly criticized -- even cited as violations of rules governing lawyers' behavior -- have done little to slow his momentum as a major mover among top lawyers.
   These days, he can pick from a host of cases, each capable of earning him and his firm several million dollars.
   "He's certainly a successful lawyer and an effective lawyer, and he certainly has the talent to be a good lawyer," said Yale Kamisar, a law professor at the University of Michigan. "But Geoffrey Fieger at his worst is, 'I'm the tough guy on the block. If you cross me, you'll be sorry.'
   "He's quite capable of being good without the histrionics. But look where the histrionics have gotten him. Anyone who needs a lawyer right now probably thinks of Geoffrey Fieger or Johnnie Cochran."
   
Work for success
   Fieger's prominence as attorney, media star and politician is paying enormous dividends -- evidenced, in part, by what he does with his money.
   When some lawyers talk about expanding their office, they mean adding rooms for new associates, library space or perhaps remodeling the reception area.
   Fieger wants a park.
   "I like green space," Fieger said, smiling from behind the desk in his office on 10 Mile Road. "I like the idea: Have parks around your buildings. Have beautiful things."
   He has bought some of the buildings close to his office, one valued by the Southfield assessor at $250,000 and the other at about $100,000. He plans on moving his firm -- Fieger, Fieger, Schwartz & Kenney -- into the larger building, and possibly clearing the rest of the land for a park.
   Fieger can afford that kind of talk. His firm has won at least $140 million in court awards and settlements in the past 18 months, and he spent all of his two-week "vacation" in Anguilla recently working on new cases.
   On his first day back at the office, Fieger was defensive when asked how someone could spend 14 days in the Caribbean and return so noticeably colorless.
   "I'm not that pale, am I?" he asks. "Yeah, 14 days. I worked every day -- all day. But that's the way I vacation! My wife would tell you that."
   
Kevorkian was catalyst
   Fieger's chronically obsessive work regimen attracts a succession of major cases. In a period of several months recently, he won a $25 million verdict in the Jenny Jones case; $30 million from the Ryder Truck firm in a personal injury case; $20 million from Chrysler in a sexual harassment case that is said to be the largest award nationally for that type of case; and $7 million from Detroit in a police brutality case. The fee to Fieger and his firm is routinely at least one-third of the award.
   "The Kevorkian publicity has really been a major impetus for him having access to such a hot source of cases," said David Cooper, a retired defense lawyer who used to face Fieger and who now does some appellate work from him. "I would say that, pre-Kevorkian, Geoffrey only occasionally got good cases."
   Fieger resolutely asserts that representing Kevorkian for free was a matter of principle -- a fight he was willing to undertake, he insists, regardless of the career impact. But he admits he was mindful that it could well pay off in the long run.
   "Sure, I was aware that the issue was large," Fieger said. "My national notoriety, obviously, stems from my work in that case."
   He also asserts that, despite critics' complaints, his decade-long representation of Kevorkian was the only time he played rough.
   "I had to with Kevorkian because these people wouldn't stop. (Oakland County Prosecutor) Dick Thompson, (Gov. John) Engler, the Legislature. I was dealing with a many-headed beast. If you drove a stake through its heart, it would resurrect itself."
   
Tough taskmaster
   As he moved about his firm on a recent afternoon, Fieger was a looming figure. The place is saturated with his persona.
   Sitting out in the reception area, visitors could readily hear his high-pitched disputations.
   "He moved the black vehicle!" Fieger howled, repeatedly. "What does that mean to you? He moved the black vehicle!"
   Fieger and a group of his partners and associates were inside, assembled around large tables in the first-floor conference room, discussing evidence in an upcoming trial. They prepared for a mock trial that evening before several groups of "jurors" the firm hires to rehearse presentations of cases.
   It is not done cheaply. People responding to ads are paid to sit in a few separate groups. Fieger, his partners and associates then listen to each group's reactions to consider how their case is playing. Sometimes, as in the mock trials of the Jenny Jones case, the rehearsal spurs a retooling of the approach.
   "I think the biggest misperception of me is that I somehow bully people into these verdicts," Fieger said. "We win because we work so hard and because we are fully prepared every time we represent a client."
   Current and former colleagues talk about hard work, long hours and "the difficulty of Geoffrey," as one former, young associate explained it. But others talk about the unique opportunity of working in the firm, the rewarding tasks and how it is often fun simply to be with Fieger.
   The phones in Fieger's firm ring constantly. Many of the calls are requests for representation. Young associates, who screen the calls and prepare synopses of potential cases, used to talk about handling 150 to 350 calls per week. But that was a few years ago. In one recent week, they handled 647 calls.
   "That is at a level of some of the 1-800 lawyers you see on television," says an ex-associate. "And that is ironic, because he absolutely hates that television advertising. He gets it all because of who he is."
   One person who stops in to the office looking for help on this day is so persistent, and perhaps so unstable, that one of Fieger's receptionists asks him, as he moves from one meeting to the next, if she should call the Southfield Police Department.
   "Yes, absolutely," Fieger says nonchalantly, as he steps into an elevator and the doors close. "Go ahead, call the cops."

Image
Charles V. Tines / The Detroit News

High-profile cases, radio and television shows have increased his notoriety in Metro Detroit and nationally.


   
Love him or hate him
   All of the meetings Fieger attends at his firm are crucial to the running of the office and to Fieger's practice, because he prepares few of the cases himself. Other lawyers play key roles in deposing witnesses, researching the law and preparing motions. Fieger sits in on meetings and sometimes directs the activity. But his more important task is absorbing the facts of the case and the law so that if a trial is necessary, he is prepared for his role.
   "Geoffrey's own office is behind glass in the firm, and I always joked that someone should hang a sign that says, 'In case of trial, break glass,' like on fire alarms," said Scott Decius, a former associate in the firm. "I don't know anyone who can do that, juggling these complex medical malpractice cases, the way he does it."
   While his scorched-earth tactics in the Kevorkian case and in others have earned him a legion of detractors -- many of whom fear him so much that they would not speak on the record for this story -- Fieger retains the respect of others, who say he is a talented lawyer who sometimes plays too rough.
   "Whether you like Geoffrey or not, you have to acknowledge that he has remarkable talent," said Cooper, the retired defense lawyer. "His abilities in front of a jury are simply remarkable."
   
Eager to employ
   Fieger will not say how much he earns, though he agrees with the suggestion that as a politician, the public has an interest in knowing.
   "We gross a lot," he said. "We do as well as any plaintiff's law firm. We have to. We have a lot of high-priced talent here."
Image
Charles V. Tines / The Detroit News

"I think the biggest misperception of me is that I somehow bully people into these verdicts," Geoffrey Fieger says of his critics. "We win because we work so hard."


   Indeed, there is. Fieger pays considerable salaries to a handful of partners who are increasingly integral to the growing practice.
   A sure sign of accomplishment for any plaintiffs' firm is the ability to reach across the aisle and hire defense lawyers from other law firms, respected opponents in the courtroom. Fieger has done precisely that with increasing frequency in recent years.
   A prime example is luring Jeremiah J. Kenney from the top-rank Kitch, Drutchas, Wagner & Kenney firm. Kenney had been the managing partner and a litigator at Kitch. His move to Fieger, Fieger, Schwartz and Kenney as a named partner about a year ago, removed his name from Kitch's door and stationary -- and sent shock waves throughout the Michigan bar.
   Most speculated that the peripatetic Fieger needed some help organizing his growing practice and that Kenney's management skills were his selling point.
   "That's simply not true," Fieger said. "We can always find good people who manage. I brought him in because he is a good trial lawyer. All of the trials had been funneling up to me. I can't do all of that. That's why Jerry's here."
   Lawyers who once worked with Fieger speculate that he pays his senior partners and himself a salary of about $500,000 and an annual bonus of about $2 million. Other former associates, however, think those estimates are overly conservative, especially when it comes to Fieger.
   
Publicity factor
   While he says he can readily pick from an array of interesting, lucrative cases, Fieger dismisses the notion that he accepts any representation that would yield publicity or further his political ambitions.
   "I respond to things very intuitively. And, frankly, I get bored very easily," Fieger said.
   But other lawyers say Fieger has nurtured a practice based on his ability to latch on to highly controversial cases that garner enormous media attention.
   For plaintiff's attorneys who often brandish a fearless, David-versus-Goliath reputation, and a willingness to engage in bruising court and public-relations battles, almost any publicity -- whether it is Fieger's 31 appearances on Power of Attorney or his nine-month campaign for governor in 1998 -- is useful.
   "Any form of notoriety, short of getting arrested for molestation of a child, will probably generate buzz for a lawyer," said J. Douglas Peters, of the firm of Charfoos & Christensen in Detroit, which competes with Fieger for cases. "But I actually think a lot of the negativity you hear applied to Geoffrey is jealousy. The vigor he applied to the Kevorkian cases has clearly caused some people to think that he will fight for them."
   Fieger also says he is not thinking about the national publicity or shoring up his political base among African Americans when he decided to represent the 11-year-old murder defendant Nathaniel Abraham or the family of Isaiah Shoels, who was murdered in the 1998 Columbine, Colo., school shootings.
   "I just don't think like that," he said. "I don't have to do anything I don't want to do. I have paid all of my dues."
   
Candidate again?
   Fieger does agree that the number of cases he has brought against Detroit has increased recently. But he says that has nothing to do with any plans to run for mayor.
   "I just find them more interesting," Fieger said. "There are a number (of incidents) that have occurred. Because I am Geoff Fieger, I get the higher-profile cases."
Image
Charles V. Tines / The Detroit News

Geoffrey Fieger greets a fan inside the Genesee County Courthouse in Flint.


   Indeed, with at least 10 lawsuits pending against the city, some people say Fieger's legal work might actually detract from a run for mayor. Observers said that frequently seeking major damages from a city that is often financially troubled invites criticism from rival candidates. It might raise the issue of how much someone who does not live in Detroit really cares about the city, they said.
   "I think it's an issue that can be dealt with, but it's an issue," said state Rep. Keith Stallworth, D-Detroit, who says Fieger remains highly popular in the African-American community because of his representation of clients who are disadvantaged. "I think people have said, 'Look, if you've got millions of dollars of lawsuits out there, outstanding against the city, does it really make sense for a CEO to put together a payout program to settle with yourself?'
   "That is a conflict, clearly, but he would just have to make a decision -- from an economic standpoint -- to yield (on the cases and give them to other law firms) and become a civic leader, instead."
   Many observers are confident that Fieger will never do that, especially given the way his firm is structured. Fieger says he is still considering running for mayor of Detroit next year. But he vows that after his 62 percent to 38 percent loss to Gov. John Engler two years ago, he is unlikely ever to spend significant amounts of his own money taking on an incumbent -- and he would not run against Mayor Dennis Archer.
   Fieger is aware of the problem his law practice presents in running for office. He makes clear that the practice is always a consideration against being a candidate.
   "It makes my clients nervous," he said. "Trust me, it sends shivers down my clients, my law partners -- I mean, everybody. They don't want me to do that."
   

You can reach Gregg Krupa at (313) 222-2610 or gkrupa@detnews.com.
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