Courthouse crowd has one less character to set things straight
There was George Foley Sr. in his element, arguing the law, politics and life itself over cups of coffee at the Courthouse Café.
A downtown icon for more than half a century, Foley was forever flanked by his pals in the crime and punishment racket, Charlie Waterman and Tom Pitaro. Like blue-collar working stiffs before the start of another factory shift, they drank their coffee and chewed the morning newspaper into digestible bites. They wore suits and carried briefcases, but at heart they were working-class men: Democrats by politics and Catholics by calling or osmosis. I liked the fact they could quote a column and call a fellow a bastard without missing a beat.
Waterman died in 2008. Foley took his last opinionated breath Sunday night at age 88.
"When I was a younger attorney, I was sitting down and having coffee with George," Pitaro recalled Tuesday. "I said, 'Someday when I grow up, I want to be just like you.' He said, 'Someday when I grow up, I want to be just like me, too.' George was a guy who knew who he was. He just loved stories. You always were wondering how much is truth and how much is a parable he's making up for the occasion. He was an old-world storyteller. George had the blarney. But he was also a fine attorney. He had a very, very quick mind."
Born in Goldfield in 1922 into Nevada's leading legal family, Foley initially took to the law like a cat to water. He worked a variety of jobs, most notably as a bellhop, and grew into the family practice. He became Clark County district attorney and had a successful private practice that often found him representing the underdog.
That's all grand, but it doesn't begin to capture Foley's blustery character and innate sense of fairness.
Former state Sen. Joe Neal befriended Foley decades ago and found few allies as loyal during Southern Nevada's long, tormented struggle for civil rights and racial equality. After Neal was elected to the state Senate and found himself on the short end of many lopsided votes, Foley nicknamed him "19 to 1."
"George was a very good friend and somebody that I could talk to," Neal said. "He was a friend on the white side of town that I could always count upon for some advice when it came time to decide what needed to be done."
Around the downtown court system, attorneys sought Foley's counsel, not merely on legal matters, but on issues of fairness as well.
"I just loved him," attorney Richard Wright said. "To me, I guess mentor is the correct word. Everyone talks about him being a storyteller, but he didn't just tell stories. He shared life experiences and lessons that were more than telling little stories.
"He was like a barometer to me. He was wise, and you don't find that in a lot of lawyers. They get onto something and they exaggerate things and blow the injustice out of proportion or want to barbecue the adversary. George looked at it from both sides. I'd talk to him about cases, and he'd always bring me back down to Earth."
Attorney James Pico observed, "He was just one of those unforgettable characters. If you knew George as your friend, he was your friend. If he was your enemy, he drew the line pretty good. There weren't too many gray areas with George Foley."
"As cantankerous as he was," Pitaro said, "he actually had that old-fashioned sense of Catholic charity. I think he saw himself as someone who was able to stand up for the little guy."
George Foley's presence will be missed downtown, a place where courage, charity, and wisdom are in short supply.
John L. Smith's column appears Sunday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. E-mail him at Smith@reviewjournal.com or call (702) 383-0295. He also blogs at lvrj.com/blogs/smith.
