Luke Ford

I don’t believe there is any major law firm in Los Angeles who would hire a lawyer who looked traditionally Jewish with the long beard, the yarmulke, the tzitzit out (unless the guy was extraordinarily connected). There are many Orthodox Jews working in law firms, but few of them wear their yarmulkes and beards (and those few that do, I doubt they wore them when they got hired).

I’ve heard stories about top ten percent law students who were on law reviews and published articles and clerked for top judges and no law firm in Los Angeles would hire them. They’d go into interviews and the interviewers would take one look at their yarmulkes and be done. That’s all they needed to see to conclude that this person would not fit in their law firm.

I know somebody in Los Angeles who was so financially desperate after not getting hired after more than 50 interviews, a top ten percent in his law class, that he shaved off his beard and took off his yarmulke and then he got hired on his first interview.

I know a lot of Orthodox Jewish lawyers in Los Angeles, but I can only think of a handful who wear yarmulkes at work (let alone a beard).

Report: Baruch Cohen, Esq., attended yeshiva from preschool to high school and spent six years studying in post high school yeshiva, before entering law school on Los Angeles. Prior to his law school graduation, in the late 1980s, the dean called him with interesting news. An extremely prestigious law firm had contacted him with an invitation for Baruch to interview.

This was an amazing development. First of all, Baruch had not even sent a resume to that firm. Secondly, even if he had, the chances of landing an interview were almost nil. This prominent Wall Street firm, which recently expanded into L.A., was one of the top in the nation and one of the most selective. Normally one would have to be a graduate of Harvard or Yale to even be considered by this firm. Baruch was a good student from a good law school, but the school’s ranking was not Ivy League high. In fact the dean told him that none of his graduates had ever been invited for an interview by this firm.

“Baruch, I know you always wore that religious skullcap all through law school, and you still wear it now that you are clerking in bankruptcy court, and I respect that,” the dean said, “But now you have an opportunity to get in to an elite firm. The skullcap could turn them off and cost you the job.”

Baruch was now torn. He had worn the yarmulke (ritual skullcap, also known as a kippah) all his life. As a kid he was beaten up by neighborhood boys for wearing it, but, he would rather have a bloody nose than no yarmulke on his head.

Before he entered law school he worried that pursuing a career in law could force him to remove his precious yarmulke. Indeed, to this point in his brief career he had always worn his yarmulke. But now he had an opportunity of a lifetime. The experience and prestige of being associated with this firm, as well as the six figure starting salary was a dream come true. He was starting a family. He had a wife and young daughter to support.

He did his due diligence and asked other religiously observant Jewish lawyers. They all told him that wearing a yarmulke at work was just not done. He even spoke with a prominent Rabbi who told him that it is permissible to go without a yarmulke to pursue a parnassa (livelihood). Yes, he could remove his yarmulke he thought – but did that mean he should?

After much soul searching, he finally decided that this was too big an opportunity to jeopardize, so he went to his interview bare headed. He still felt ill at ease, but at the same time he felt confident in that he had sought advice from the experts and that no matter how wrong it felt to him, he was doing what he was told to do. He went into the big fancy building and found his way to the interviewers office. He was seated in the reception area. Finally the secretary told him that he could go in to the interviewers office. He entered the room.

Nothing could have prepared him for the shock that awaited him. There in front of him was the interviewer, sitting at his desk, clad in a yarmulke. The interviewer looked at him and his uncovered head with equal shock and said, “Where is your yarmulke?”

Baruch was frozen. He was numb. He couldn’t even feel his hands to find which pocket his yarmulke was in.

The interviewer continued, “Do you know why you got this interview? I happened to be in bankruptcy court and saw you clerking for the judge. It intrigued me that someone in Los Angeles would have the conviction to proudly wear a yarmulke whiling working in a court. I researched you. I found that you spent six years studying Talmud, in a prominent yeshiva before entering law school. That is an outstanding combination.

“Now you show up to this interview without a yarmulke?!

“I also know that you come from a long line of Rabbis. You studied in the finest Yeshivos. I checked all that out before contacting your dean. Now when the opportunity presents itself, look at you. You’re a sellout. I am so deeply disappointed in you. You’ll never make it in this firm – this is a firm of leaders, not followers. This interview is over.”

Baruch was sent home reeling. He felt lower than he had ever felt before. He then shed tears, not because of the job, not because of the harshness of the rebuke; but because deep down he felt the interviewer was right.

He resolved from that point to only do the right thing, and never accept the argument from others that ‘this is the way things are done.’ From that point on he never removed his yarmulke for fear of what an employer, client or jury might think. Let them think what they will. He was determined to do the right thing and people would just have to recognize that. Today Baruch Cohen is a successful trial attorney in Los Angeles, who has inspired many with the profound perspective that he acquired the hard way.