Trials A Lawyer's Precipitous Fall from Grace

Short, chunky and menacingly combative, Harvey Myerson is one of the country's most talented trial lawyers. But according to charges that will be heard in Brooklyn's federal courthouse next week, he is also one of the most tainted. After building a reputation representing the likes of Donald Trump, Shearson Lehman and former Treasury Secretary William Simon, Myerson stands accused of swindling $3.5 million from clients and partners and faces as much as 20 years in prison. Said prosecutor Sean O'Shea after the initial indictment last year: "We have here an unprecedented pattern of greed and dishonesty by a lawyer at the top of his profession."

For Myerson, 52, the charges signal a precipitous fall from grace. And as in Greek tragedy, his fate seems the result of a fundamental character flaw. Despite a hefty draw of $1.4 million from his $400-an-hour rate at the prestigious New York law firm of Myerson & Kuhn, Myerson's profligate life- style -- featuring Ferraris and Rolls-Royces, five homes, 20th century art and foot-long Cuban cigars -- called for even more. In 1988, for example, Myerson took family members on a chartered-jet vacation to Maine -- and allegedly billed client Shearson Lehman (without the firm's knowledge) for the trip.

But Myerson apparently saved his best treats for a string of mistresses. In 1989 a top New York model joined him at the Kentucky Derby. According to the indictment, clients Kelley Oil and ICN Pharmaceuticals picked up the tab. Another model received an $86,000 Cartier ring and a $24,000 full-length mink, courtesy of Myerson's unsuspecting law partners. To attract prospective lovers, sources say, Myerson liked to pose as a movie producer and "audition" young agency models in his office. "To Myerson, there is just no distinction between persuading a jury and persuading his wife or clients or partners of something," says a former partner.

In the courtroom, Myerson has been a master at proving deception in others, regularly badgering witnesses into submission and throwing himself shamelessly at juries. "Please God, find for us. God bless you," he begged jurors at the 1986 conclusion of his most famous case, an antitrust action brought by the upstart U.S. Football League against the monopolistic practices of the National Football League. Myerson and the U.S.F.L. won -- but they received a humiliating $3 in damages and the lesson that even courtroom victories are no guarantee of riches.

The son of a Philadelphia silk wholesaler, Myerson made his mark in the 1970s at the venerable New York law firm of Webster & Sheffield. But his craving for power and wealth caused constant friction with partners, many of whom were relieved when Myerson was wooed away in 1984 by Finley, Kumble, an aggressive 700-lawyer firm that became synonymous with '80s-style greed.

In late 1987, not long after Myerson emerged as the firm's key partner, Finley collapsed into bankruptcy amid power clashes, soaring salaries and strangling debt. In his vengeful 1990 book, Conduct Unbecoming, former partner Steven Kumble tags Myerson as the main culprit in the breakup, partly because he squandered money. "Harvey is a compulsive spender, and to some degree he can't control it," explains Kumble. Myerson was equally obsessed with his looks. "Harvey had a series of toupees, of different lengths, that looked like old Knute Rockne football helmets," Kumble recalls. "He'd keep changing them and then at the end of the month announce that he needed a haircut."

In 1988 Myerson decided he could build another Finley-size business overnight. His pal William Simon introduced him to former baseball commissioner Bowie Kuhn, who accepted a $500,000 annual draw largely for lending his conservative name to the shingle. Myerson & Kuhn soon boasted 170 lawyers, but the firm had to borrow just to pay its high-profile partners, and Myerson's spending habits worsened the crunch. By 1989 the partnership was in Chapter 11.

With Wall Street awash in big fees during the past decade, it was no surprise that so many otherwise savvy lawyers kept signing up with Myerson, even after the Finley debacle. The law firms he was associated with are symbolic of what New York University law ethics professor Stephen Gillers calls "the new disloyalty," which swept the profession in the '80s. "Harvey has to be pathological to have told so many lies so constantly," says former law partner Leon Marcus. "He was always trying to prove he was bigger and better than everyone else. But I wish they didn't indict him. He's dead already. Who the hell would hire him now?"

Myerson denies all charges, but his prospects of remaining a free man look slim. Several of the lawyers who aided Myerson in his scams have agreed to testify against him in exchange for immunity. Even if his upcoming defense is successful, Myerson faces two additional indictments: one for billing clients ; for the imaginary legal services of his brother-in-law (who is not an attorney); and the other for defrauding banks in order to buy a $1.75 million mansion in Key West, Fla., that may soon be seized by the feds. With his legal career a shambles, Myerson can still count on one major client: himself. He plans to argue his own case, in what should be the most challenging performance of his life.