RUCKUS

Celebrity trial attorney Golub reflects upon his madcap formative years in Worcester, Massachusetts.

On a snowy fall night in 1953, 11-year-old Golub joined his friend on a hayride. It would turn out to be a propitious event. There, sitting in the hay, was 10-year-old Linda Paul, the precocious little girl who would toy with Golub’s emotions for the next decade: “She was thin, her hair had small brown curls, and her skin was translucent. I thought I could see through it, all the way to her heart.” Fortunately, Golub, born into a middle-class Jewish family, had other concerns that helped distract his young mind. He was determined to make enough money to ease his family’s financial struggles. He writes, “Slowly I became convinced that I wanted to be a lawyer. Lawyers were respected, and they were paid for their words.” Worcester was a rough town. In public school, Golub faced bullying by the tough kids. In fifth grade, he avenged himself by urinating out the school bathroom window, targeting his stream at his tormentor. He was suspended for three days, the first of a series of suspensions and expulsions that “distinguished” his school years. In his tender, frequently hair-raising memoir, Golub recalls his rebellious, troubled path from prankster and petty criminal to prominent New York City attorney. A masterful storyteller, he captures the zeitgeist of the 1950s and early ’60s, including memories of antisemitism in Worcester and frightening racism in North Carolina, where he went to law school. Squeamish readers should be forewarned that his amiable, conversational prose abounds with four-letter expletives and graphic sexual exploits (and disappointments); however, his sarcastic, self-deprecating asides reveal an endearing fragility beneath the brashness. His most reckless, riveting escapades unfold over several chapters that bring readers along on his 1963 cross-country road trip to Los Angeles with his friend Alan Golden.

A rowdy journey to success recollected with humor and poignancy.