Municipal Court 4F

Philadelphia Municipal Court Judge Morton Krase thinks Judge Joseph Wapner, star of the popular TV show The People's Court, has the "sense of humor of a dried piece of matzoh." And Krase is truly an expert on the people's court, television or otherwise. Krase, like Wapner, hears "small claims" cases, or lawsuits under $10,000. In small claims court, as portrayed in The People's Court, plaintiffs and defendants will often represent themselves, unassisted by a lawyer. But Krase insists that the substance of his courtroom is nothing like Wapner's. "People really get the wrong image about [small claims court] from that show," he said. "With cases like the ones we see, you've really got to keep a sense of humor." Helping to keep the spirit of the hearings in Municipal Courtroom 4F light is court officer Harvey Shubert, described by Krase as "a little Jewish guy who talks like Jackie Mason." "I've seen some very interesting things happen here," said Shubert, who, during a hearing over an unpaid bill last week burst into hysterical laughter while swearing to a plaintiff. Krase said that during his ten and a half years serving on the bench at the Philadelphia Municipal, or "small claims" court, he has seen "fist fights in the courtroom [and] people drawing guns." Before metal detectors were installed by the elevators on the 4th floor of the building, "I was ducking under the bench," he said. "I thought I was going to have to go out on the window sill with the pigeons." Krase said he has also seen some "frivolous" cases. "I saw people suing each other over a $1.98 cleaning bill," he said. But the nature of the courtroom itself comes out clearest in the context of the cases themselves. On a Friday morning, Courtroom 4F in the Philadelphia Municipal Court on 11th St. is teeming with anxious people. A man wearing a faded sweatshirt sits hunched over in the third row, wiping his brow. In the row behind him, a woman with her hair pulled tightly into a bun taps her foot nervously at the chair in front of her. Shubert, all business, bustles into the room, accompanied by a smiling court stenographer who taps him affectionately on the arm before she takes her seat in front of the bench. "This is small claims court," Shubert announces in a slightly squeaky voice. "Sometimes they like to call it the 'People's Court.'" "It's to your advantage to get your own case settled out of court," he continues. Murmuring softly, a few people file out of the courtroom. Shubert tells the remaining crowd that if the court did not find in favor of their cases, they should not "go out there with a negative attitude, thinking you are right." "That won't solve anything," he said. When Krase, carrying a "PENN" mug (his son is a Wharton alumnus) finally arrives at the bench at 10 a.m., the courtroom is half empty. "All rise," says Shubert, much in the manner of Rusty, Wapner's stern-faced bailiff. But unlike Judge Wapner, Krase treats the people in the courtroom to a disarming smile. "Hi, how are you," he says. In the first case, union members sue the proprietor of a popular restaurant in South Philadelphia. A big stir is created in the courtroom when a paralegal tries to pass off as a lawyer to represent the union. "What?!?" The judge immediately loses his friendly demeanor. "You can't give the appearance of being a lawyer--only lawyers can do that!" he yells. The paralegal, intimidated, mutters a few apologetic words, explaining that the lawyer for the union had not arrived yet. "Now, I'm not a harsh guy," Krase says in a calmer voice. "But you can't just take the law into your own hands. Now get out of here--and if you try to do this again, you'll be in trouble." "Let me get this straight," says Krase to the next plaintiff, a security guard who is suing a landscaping company for not paying him his salary in full. "You do what?" "I provide armed security," answers the plaintiff. "For a landscaping company?" he continues, leaning into the bench. "Yes, that's what I was hired to do," the plaintiff replies. "So what do you do -- you guard the trees?" Krase says, cracking a grin. The courtroom rocks with laughter. "I guard the landscaping office," the plaintiff says. In a judicial system in which cases may go on for months without a decision, frustrating both the clients and the lawyers, Krase's "small claims" courtroom is faster than fast food. About three minutes after the "tree security guard" is awarded his compensation, the woman wearing her hair in a bun is sitting at the plaintiff's table. A medical assistant at St. Christopher's Hospital, she is suing her employer for not giving her the $5,000 bonus her contract stated she was supposed to receive. Krase reacts favorably to both the medical assistant's and her employer's testimony. "You must be really, really, good, to get offered a bonus like that," he says to the medical assistant. "You must be excellent." As the employer testifies, Krase interjects that the employer is "honest." He points at her and nods to the other people in the courtroom. "That's good--that will get her points upstairs." Not all of the cases Krase has seen have been fun and games, however. Along with sitting on the bench at small claims court, he has made decisions in "landlord-tenant court." In this "very emotional court," landlords sue tenants who have not paid their rent, he said. "You get women coming in with their children in the middle of winter, begging and crying not to be thrown out of their house," Krase said. "What can be more important than having a roof over your head?" He added that there is often so much crying in landlord-tenant court that "you have to bring a towel and a handkerchief." Some of the people to grace Courtroom 4F are neither paid lawyers nor angry civilians seeking justice, but students of the law itself. University and Temple Law School students "perform as lawyers perform" to gain hands-on courtroom experience, Law School Professor Douglas Frenkel said last week. Twenty to 25 Law School students at the University each semester receive credit for practicing their arguing skills in civil, criminal and mediation cases, he said. Law School students only offer the free legal representation to "indigent clients," Frenkel said. Second year Law School student Mark Rodio, who worked as an apprentice lawyer this semester, said he treats "every one of our clients as if they were big clients and we were a big Center City law firm." Contrary to being apprehensive about being represented by someone who has yet to receive a law degree, clients are "grateful" to the students, he added. "We're the first time in these people's lives that anyone's bothered to listen to them," Rodio said. Third year Law School student Eric Shore said he was "extremely apprehensive" when he went before a judge for the first time. "I really didn't know what I was supposed to do," he said. Nevertheless, Shore said his first shot at legal representation was an "excellent experience." "I was so much more confident about [becoming] a lawyer [afterwards]," he said. But Rodio said his lack of courtroom experience does not dissuade him from arguing cases before a real-life judge. "I feel both confident and competent [enough to handle the cases]," Rodio said. But Krase, from years' experience on the bench of the people's court, questioned Rodio's confidence. "The difference between [being a] lawyer and [going to] college is night and day," he said.