‘A memory of days gone’

A legal reminiscence by Tim Bergin

I am trying to fathom how it is possible that I have now been practising at the Bar for over thirty-seven years. I emphasise ‘practising ’ as the terminology leaves me musing about whether we perpetually ‘practice’ without ever reaching ‘mastery’ of the art of advocacy.  

In 1988, I finally completed my pupillage and secured tenancy down on the south-coast in Brighton. It was a very exciting time as I embarked on my new career. But, thinking back now, I sometimes feel as if it was during the Dark Ages.

A time when we considered computers, mobile phones and remote hearings as something out of Star Trek than a reality. When the chambers’ diary was literally a big red book in the clerks’ room and fax machines were the ‘state of the art’ in technology. 

When I started at Sussex Chambers in Brighton, now sadly long gone, there were only three phone lines available which could only take one call at any time. No personal calls were to be made between the hours of 3 – 4pm to avoid clogging up the lines. Paperwork was dispatched to Elizabeth, our junior clerk, for typing on her electric type-writer, and we were attended at court by our instructing solicitor.

It was also a time when the Bar had exclusive rights of audience in all higher courts, so we lorded it over any others who had aspirations to take a slice of the action.  

As a junior tenant, I would trek to faraway courts such as Mark Cross or Rye. Of course, there was no way of putting postcodes into my car sat nav or referring to google maps. It was a process of digging out the local roadmaps and trying to get some idea of where the court was located. If I got lost or was likely to be late to court, well there wasn’t much I could do about it. Certainly, no hands-free calls to the clerks to get them to forewarn the client and the court that I was on my way.

The immediate response to emails or text messages which is now expected of us would have been an anathema in those days. Paperwork could sit on shelves for what seemed an eternity and the excuse of “Sorry, I was out in court all day” was good enough and would avoid adverse criticism from those instructing us.

What is perhaps the greatest loss of those long-gone days, however, is the demise of the courts which served the local area. The likes of Steyning, Arundel, Petworth and Uckfield where local people delivered local justice. There was a certain quaintness about those courts. In Mark Cross Magistrates Court, for example, I would be greeted on my arrival by the usher with tea and cake, and in Arundel, upon the magistrates retiring, we would converge on the balcony to survey all before us before returning for the inevitable ‘guilty verdict’. Life seemed calmer and more relaxed back then. 

Another significant change to the profession is the demise of the ‘Common Law Barrister’. In other words, turning one’s hand to anything and everything. Nowadays, those who join the Bar do so with a trajectory for their career in mind whether it be criminal, civil or family. But back then one’s practice varied from day to day. From a trial before HHJ Gower sitting in court 3 at Lewes Crown Court to a non-molestation application before HHJ Hammerton in Brighton County Court. It wasn’t unusual to appear before HHJ Kennedy QC, sitting in the Possessions Court, and I recall a visit to St Francis’ Hospital to appear before the mental health tribunal. I was representing a young girl who had been sectioned. It is hard to imagine, post the Human Rights Act, that I was trying to convince a member of the tribunal who also happened to be the psychiatrist who had authorised her detention, that she did not need to be in hospital, let alone the subject of a section.

I recall Robert Seabrook KC once saying, “we are advocates first and foremost, and we should be able to advocate in any court on any matter”. 

Having not set foot in anything other than a family court for the past 15 years, I remember those heady days when the court system was extensive and work diverse. When we thought of ourselves as Rumpole of the Bailey or Kavanagh QC. When there was a prohibition on ‘marketing’ and ‘money’ was a dirty word only to be uttered by clerks. When men were expected to wear sober three-piece suits, and women could not even think about turning up to court in trousers. When we were true advocates in the strict sense of the word and position statements and openings we delivered whilst on our feet. When bundles comprised of…yes, paper, and red and white ribbon meant something. When Fridays at Lewes Crown Court were plea days, and we crammed on the benches and took up positions before HHJ Troupe or Gower clutching a ‘fist-full of briefs’, with the sole aim of getting to the front of the queue, and to then head down to the Bar Mess at the Crown Pub for a swift sherry or two with similar likeminded persons.

I still enjoy life at the Bar, but it has changed beyond recognition over the course of my career. I believe every day as a barrister is an absolute privilege which few will ever get to experience. However, that does not mean that I do not miss days gone by and the joys of really being just a ‘junior at the Bar’.

Tim Bergin (called 1987)

Barrister at Crown Office Row Chambers

Brighton