This is guest post #5 by Steve Epstein, about his book Extreme Punishment: The Chilling True Story of Acclaimed Law Professor Dan Markel’s Murder.
The following is an excerpt from Chapter 8, Ivory Tower:
“Aloha! Welcome to PrawfsBlawg!” Dan began his April 5, 2005 post, introducing himself as a “blogger-ab-initio” about to embark on his teaching career. “This blawg,” he informed readers, “will mostly be by law people, and mostly quite junior, including some who might not even be prawfs yet.” Three days later, the blogosphere pioneer toasted PrawfsBlawg’s successful launch: “Thousands of visitors!! Come hang around, drink scotch and bubble tea with us.”
Dan, Ethan Leib, and a handful of their colleagues across the country would gradually grow PrawfsBlawg into a thriving, burgeoning community of like-minded young professors, ultimately garnering more than 250,000 page views per month. The idea was that fledgling members of the legal academy were “in it together,” reaching for higher rungs on the academic ladder as a collective enterprise—rather than in monastic seclusion—able to benefit from each other’s wisdom and experiences. Though Dan posted more frequently than anyone else, a handful of junior professors became permanent contributors. Invitations to guest blog provided an invaluable platform for young faculty members languishing in obscurity to introduce themselves to the ever-widening Prawfs readership and forge professional connections.
PrawfsBlawg wasn’t all serious business, doubling at times as Dan’s personal diary—replete with his whimsical posts about his and Wendi’s engagement, their wedding, Ben-Ben’s arrival and bris, and marking his “56th month of wedded bliss.” It also was where he ruminated about the goings-on in Funky T-Town, proper attire for teaching law students, even his introduction to Baby Ruth candy bars.
Dan used the blog to solicit contributions for Haiti following a devastating earthquake and for ALS research during his colleague Steve Gey’s brave battle with the dreaded disease. He’d post his “shitty first drafts” of new articles, soliciting feedback to help hone his arguments—and encouraged other Prawfs to do likewise. He also used PrawfsBlawg to trumpet the accomplishments of Florida State faculty members and up-and-coming scholars from coast to coast.
Live gatherings of Prawfs became a staple at large academic conferences, the community of ambitious legal scholars as much about social connection as academic ambition. Dan would set up shop in the hotel lobby, greeting fellow Prawfs as they checked in much like a Walmart greeter—with his trademark bear hug and warm smile—meeting spouses and children and catching up on the latest faculty gossip. He organized Prawfs dinners and happy hours that would often last until the wee hours. If he discovered junior professors who seemed out of place or too introverted to network, Dan would introduce himself and insist they join him and his fellow Prawfs at a restaurant or bar—helping the timid professors meet everyone he knew—the Great Connector in action as always.
Long after the conferences had concluded, Dan would reconnect with the junior professors he’d met, soliciting their draft articles so he could help sharpen their analysis. His offers weren’t merely empty gestures. Dan would spend hours in the evening reading drafts and exchanging emails with his newfound colleagues, investing in them as if their careers were inextricably intertwined with his own. He’d return their drafts teeming with insightful comments and helpful suggestions, all designed to make their arguments more logical and persuasive. His thoughtfulness, generosity with his time, and eagerness to help earned Dan a loyal cadre of disciples, the Canadian-born professor becoming a Pied Piperesque mentor to emerging scholars all across America.
Dan felt a particularly special kinship with Prawfs colleagues who were observant Jews. At conferences, they’d join together for intimate Shabbat dinners in Dan’s hotel room, often with Wendi and the kids. At a conference at the luxurious Ritz Carlton in Palm Beach, Florida, a Jewish colleague came up to Dan in the corridor in full-on panic because the hotel didn’t serve kosher food. Within ten minutes, Dan had organized a road trip, he and five Jewish colleagues in a desperate search until they located a rinky-dink kosher deli in a West Palm Beach strip mall. They barreled inside, plopped down at a table, and enjoyed their kosher sandwiches as if they were sumptuous delicacies being served at a five-star restaurant.
I selected this passage because it reveals a whole lot about who Dan Markel was and what made him tick. From his abundant energy to his warmth and joyful spirit, the Canadian-born professor was truly one of a kind in the legal academic world. Though he didn’t land at the type of institution he initially believed he belonged, what he learned during his nine years at FSU was that there was a lot more to being an academic than the name—or ranking—of the university to which he was attached. He yearned to improve the lot of those who, like him, envisioned themselves as climbers. More than eight years since his murder, there are scores of law professors all across the nation whose careers were positively impacted because they were fortunate enough to cross paths with Dan Markel’s.
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