”SO,” Aaron Richard Golub is saying confidently, after the first three hours of a four-and-a-half-hour conversation about himself, ”you ever meet a lawyer like me?”
One erroneously applies the question to the wide range of colorful characters one has met in life — spies, acrobats, pornographers — and, even more erroneously, believes it to be a real question. But Mr. Golub, good looking, self-made rich, with the patience of a Samurai swordsman on speed, cuts in quickly.
”No, no. A lawyer. Have you ever met a lawyer like me?”
Let’s see: a lawyer who has written a novel, who has a giggling Sikh manservant, who has made rock videos starring himself, who has been censured by the court for insulting a judge, who got into trouble for sleeping with a client, who owns a five-story East Side town house loaded with art, who chased the fugitive financier Marc Rich to Switzerland, who does not deny having urinated on his classmates from an upper story classroom as a youth?
No, we have never met a lawyer like Mr. Golub.
Care for additional testimony?
Mr. Golub will order his manservant, the white-bearded Mr. K., in a parrot blue turban, to the meeting.