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Monday, July 28, 1997

Former law partner now serves up lattes with legal advice

By MELISSA WILLIAMS / Associated Press Writer

DALLAS (AP) - These days, when lawyer David Musslewhite stays at work until 10:30 p.m., he's more likely whipping up an iced vanilla latte than sweating over a legal conundrum.

The former law partner has traded his wingtips and tony downtown digs for polo shirts and a different kind of workplace: Legal Grounds, his cheerful, even funky coffeehouse-law office lined with floor-to-ceiling bookcases in a strip shopping center.

The front room serves up caffeine drinks and pastries with all the typical coffeehouse trimmings like overstuffed black-and-white checked wing chairs and a plenitude of books and newspapers. Coffee-related knickknacks are for sale and cherry-finish tables and chairs complete the look.

Just past the coffee counter, however, beyond a triple archway, is a real law office. Musslewhite sees clients up to seven days a week on matters as simple as traffic tickets ($25) and as complex as medical malpractice lawsuits ($80 for the initial consultation). Prices are posted on a hand-lettered blackboard.

"It's not that we're offering cut-rate legal services because we're not," the genial 60-year-old says mildly. "We look at matters and give them some direction. I can do that fairly quickly. That makes it affordable."

The menu's full complement of coffees and teas, by the cup and the pound, includes such offerings as the Legal Limit (three espresso shots) and the Lethal Injection (four espresso shots).

Julie Ziemer, 29, a business consultant, stopped in Saturday on her way to run errands.

"I like the name," she said as she spread cream cheese on a bagel and sipped a steaming mug of the day's special blend. "I think it's an interesting concept."

Musslewhite, a Texas native, has practiced law in Dallas since 1964. After graduating from Oxford and Southern Methodist universities, he became a senior litigation partner in the high-powered Dallas-based law firm Akin Gump Strauss Hauer & Feld, whose partners include Clinton adviser Vernon Jordan and former Moscow ambassador Robert Strauss.

After leaving in 1992 to start his own firm, Musslewhite began looking for a way to ease out of the constant, exhausting trial work into which his practice had evolved.

His wife, Leslie, mentioned a West Coast coffeehouse-cum-legal office she'd seen during a business trip. It wasn't quite the same - several lawyers rotated the hours and offered only quick consultations - but Musslewhite was intrigued. After researching the concept, he opened Legal Grounds in April.

"I know law practice, but I had a lot to learn about the coffee business," he confesses. So far, the cafe is in the black but the legal practice brings in more revenue.

Clients seem to like the unstarchy atmosphere and flexible hours.

"We just need a little bit of information and thought it would be much easier and simpler to come in the neighborhood," said Zetta Griffin, who had an iced coffee with her sister, Nancy Rasmussen, one recent afternoon while waiting to discuss a probate question.

Musslewhite says one thing he hasn't achieved so far is a reduction in his workload.

"It's been more hours," he says, tying on an apron. "So far it's been a lot of fun." rep.0728.grounds PROOF of Story 'PAROLE1' (#6393) Requested by ADAM ($T108) on 7/26/97 15:11:13 Entered 7/25/97 at **** By WIRE4 Char 4,446 Changed 7/26/97 at **** By ADAM Lines 160 Story PAROLE1 Topic Z01AAB Keyword AUSTIN Basket SLOT Author BUREAU Expires 7/28/97 at 0:00 Guide for sunday By ANNA M. TINSLEY

Harte-Hanks Austin Bureau

AUSTIN - Paroles were rejected for four of every five Texas convicts who asked to be released from state prisons in 1996.

That's a 60 percent drop in the number of eligible prisoners given parole in six years, according to criminal justice officials.

And this year's figures could be even lower.

Critics say keeping convicts in prisons longer hurts rehabilitation efforts. But supporters of tougher penalties for criminals say it is making Texas a safer place to live.

"We now have one of the lowest parole-approval ratings we've ever had in Texas," said Victor Rodriguez, chairman of the Texas Board of Pardons and Paroles. "Convicted felons in Texas are going to pay their dues."

Inmates serving time for almost any crime from burglary to murder can be considered for parole. Only prisoners who committed capital murder and are on death row are ineligible.

Some 12,471 inmates out of 61,319 cases reviewed were given parole in 1996. That compares with 56,442 convicts paroled out of 71,074 cases reviewed in 1990.

The percent approved for parole dropped to 20 percent in 1996 from 79 percent in 1990.

Through June of this year it was even lower - 16 percent.

The sharp contrast between the 1990 and 1996 figures is partially due to the size and number of Texas prisons, said Glen Castlebury, a corrections department spokesman.

A prison-building program kicked into high gear by 1993, opening up the beds and opportunity for the parole board to keep inmates in prison longer, officials said.

In 1990, there were only 48,320 beds available in Texas prisons compared with 140,000 now.

Twelve of the current board's 18 members have been appointed by Gov. George W. Bush in the past two years.

"Gov. Bush has appointed people who share his philosophy and commitment to safer streets, safer schools and safer homes," Bush spokesman Ray Sullivan said. "Today in Texas, prison terms are longer, parole approval rates are down and our criminal and juvenile justice laws are stronger. We are certainly pleased with that movement."

One of the board's newest members said he hopes declining parole rates send a message to prisoners.

"It used to be a matter of course - you do a little time and your odds are real good that you're going to get parole," said Lynn Brown, of Carrollton. "The odds aren't as good now. They need to know they're going to have to deserve parole."

Parole board members can grant parole, deny parole forever or set a date up to three years later to reconsider parole, Rodriguez said.

Board members consider factors such as the type of crime, criminal history, behavior in prison, length of sentence served, prior parole behavior and family support.

"The revolving door of inmates going into prison and then coming right back out is really not revolving anymore," said Dianne Clements, president of Houston-based Justice For All, a victims' advocacy group.

Marin, of the rehabilitation advocacy group, said too many inmates are held too long in Texas prisons. The duty to rehabilitate criminals, she said, belongs to the community, not the state.

But the number of inmates in Texas prisons continues to grow, increasing from about 92,000 in 1994 to 136,000 now. The prison system could be full in about 10 months, predictions show.

In 1980, there were 28,000 prison beds. Ten years later, there were 48,320 beds, but thousands more inmates waited in county jails statewide because there was no room at state prisons.

"There was a great deal of pressure on the parole board to make bed space, to let some people out so others could be placed there," board member Brown said.

Earlier this month, prison officials OK'd building two high-security prisons to house the state's worst prisoners. And TDCJ officials plan to ask legislators for an OK to build three more as soon as possible, Castlebury said.

"Building more jails made the streets safer by keeping hardened criminals off the streets by way of accommodating longer sentences and accommodating a very hard line by the parole board," Castlebury said.

"The situation in the coming months puts the focus on the credibility of rehabilitation, refining which offenders can truly be put back on the streets to lead productive lives and which offenders we must be set to cope with and keep for a long, long time."Send a Letter to the Editor about This Story | Start or Join A Discussion about This Story
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