Column: Fond memories of Deanie Phares

Dear readers,

Clarence Darrow, a famous lawyer, once said, “I read the obituaries to make sure I’m not in them.”

It is a practice that I, a not so famous lawyer, also do every morning.

A light snow was falling the morning a particular obituary caught my eye.  “Marla D. Phares, 84, of Shelbyville, passed away, Monday, Dec. 2, 2024. She was a legal secretary for over 30 years, for the law firm of Stubbs and Meltzer.”

Just like Billy Pilgrim, I became unstuck in time. Suddenly, I found myself back in the 20^th century. You see, I am the Meltzer in Stubbs and Meltzer.

As I walked into my office, I heard the usual rhythmic clatter of typewriters.  I could hear the sound of coffee being made in a percolator. I could smell the coffee along with the aroma of tobacco smoke.

 Smoking was required in the 20^th century. The unmistakable click of a Zippo lighter would often punctuate conversations, followed by the first whiff of smoke — a heady mix of fine tobacco and lighter fluid. It was the time of cigars, Camel Straights and pipes, when smoking was as much a part of a law office as white shirts, cuff links, yellow legal pads, and wingtip shoes.

I never heard anyone call her Marla. She was Deanie Phares. And Deanie was more than just a secretary; she was Della Street.

I was only Perry Mason in my imagination. However, Deanie had the skills of Della Street. She embodied the quintessential qualities of a true professional secretary in the golden age of the legal world.

Deanie was a master of shorthand, a skill that turned hurried dictations into neatly typed documents. Carbon paper was her ally, enabling her to produce multiple copies of documents with a single stroke of the typewriter.

Deanie didn’t send me my phone messages via email or text; she wrote them in cursive on little notes that read "While you were out." She skewered them on a spindle for easy retrieval. This system was more personal, a testament to the meticulous care she put into every task.

Secretaries like Deanie were the heart of every office. They were experts at managing not just tasks but relationships, serving as the link between a law office and the people it served. Deanie’s ability to remember details about clients and colleagues alike made her indispensable. Her skills went beyond mere efficiency; she brought a personal touch to her work that technology will never replicate.

When the 20^th century was coming to an end, the Surgeon General tried to put the kibosh on smoking. The Marlboro Man was even forced into retirement. As a smoker, Deanie had the best argument for not quitting that I ever heard. I doubt if famous lawyer Clarence Darrow could find fault with Deanie’s logic. You see, smoking saved Deanie’s life.

Deanie Phares and her granddaughter Ashlee

Once upon a time, as a young woman, Deanie worked at the local Tastee Freeze on Vine Street. One day, after serving Jack and Diane a couple of chili dogs, she decided to take a smoke break. Just as she stepped out the back door for a smoke, and at that precise moment, a large automobile crashed through the front of the building. That fortuitous cigarette break kept her out of harm's way, a story she recounted with a wry smile and a glimmer of gratitude.

I have fond memories of Deanie. Working with her for those many years was wonderful. It was a time when the office was a community, and the secretary was its cornerstone. Her dedication, warmth, and expertise set a standard that is hard to match in today's digital age.

 Deanie’s passing marks the end of an era, but her legacy lives on in her large extended family, the countless lives she touched, and the stories she shared.

See you all next week, same Schwinn time, same Schwinn channel.