TIMOTHY R.VERHOFFContrary to popularbelief, you do notneed to have a mas-ters degree in busi-ness in order to besuccessful in the busi-ness world. proofcomes in the form ofJames T. Barry, Jr. aMilwaukee nativewho blossomed intoone of that city's topreal estate brokers.After attending theUniversity of NotreDame and majoring infinance, he opted forlaw school instead ofpursuing a businessdegree.

Going to lawschool was an unex-pected twist in Barry'slife. His interest wassparked after some ofhis friends applied fora practice booklet forthe law schoolentrance exam. "Iread through it andliked the kinds of questions they asked. Ithought, 'What the heck, if they are takingit, I will too.' I got a really good score onthe test, so the University gave me a fel-lowship to be a housefellow," Barryrecalled.

JAMES T. BARRY JR. ('59)

After a few months of law school,Barry realized that the legal professionwas not for him. "Law school confirmedthat I did not want to practice law. Yet, Ifound law school a fascinating mentalarena," he said. Barry continued his legal

education, graduatingin 1959.

Barry, whose fatherwas a real estate bro-ker, decided that realestate was the careerfor him. "I was li-censed as a real estatebroker between myjunior and senior yearsof college. The wholetime I was in lawschool, I had realestate lingering in mymind," Barry noted.

Following in hisfather's footsteps,Barry entered the realestate profession. Hestarted with his father,who had an interestingemployee relationshipwith The First Wiscon-sin National Bank. Inaddition to being anemployee, the elderBarry could do hisown real estate dealsas James T. Barry,Company provided heshared commissionswith the bank. ButBarry, the son, acted

as an independent contractor broker.Barry's first deal, the selling of Crest-

wood Bakery, involved knowledge heacquired directly in Law School. Heremembered details that he learned from

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Professor Ray Brown's tax course, andsearched his notes and textbook to findthe information that related to the deal."Sure enough, I came to the particular sec-tion of the Internal Revenue Code andfound the tax loophole I was looking for,"he said. "If I had not had that course,there was no way on earth that I wouldhave recalled the loophole that enabledme to sell the bakery as an investmentproperty."

In 1963 Barry's father retired from thebank. So, the younger Barry created theJames T. Barry Co., Inc., a commercial,industrial, investment real estate firm.

Although Barry did not want tobecome a conventional lawyer, he doesnot regret getting a law degree instead ofa masters degree in business. Instead,Barry insists that he uses his legal trainingdaily. "There is no way that an M.B.A.could have done for my mind what thelaw degree has done. I use my legal train-ing every day, but it is more the thinkingprocess than the specifics. I do use thespecifics, too, in terms of any legal con-tract I enter into," he said.

As the chief executive officer of hiscompany, Barry insists that the mark of asuccessful real estate broker is someonewho is willing to become personallyinvolved in deals and transactions. "Youhave to get into the trenches. I do both[act as C.E.O. and act as a broker]," hesaid. Barry also contends that excellence

as a broker comes from honing severalqualities on a regular basis, such as mar-ket knowledge, memory skills, and under-standing how one situation affects anoth-er. "You have to be able to understandrelationships such as if 'X' occurs, whatkind of roll-off situations will occur."

Barry noted the greatest change in thereal estate business over the years is that ithas become more legalistic. "It is a veryrare transaction that occurs without eitherlawyers having involvement or withoutlegal implications," he said. Barry alsomentioned that there have been anincreased number of real estate brokersentering the profession with a mastersdegree in business. "When I started in thebusiness, people were coming in with, atthe very most, a college degree. Over theyears, the percentage of people cominginto the business with an M.B.A. hasincreased significantly. The number ofpeople coming into the business with lawdegrees has also increased, but not assignificantly."

Barry contends that his interest in realestate is stoked because it is an everchanging field. "The surprises make thebusiness fascinating. It keeps me alert," hesaid. However, one problem Barry finds inreal estate is that people who know littleabout it, try to get involved in the deals.Barry contends lawyers occasionally takecontrol of a transaction when they shouldnot get involved. "They make some busi-

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ness or economic decision in which theymay not be knowledgeable. When theydo that, they are really hurting theirclient," Barry lamented. Moreover, Barrydoes not like it when an owner orprospect wants to work a deal in a specialway. In reality, it only wastes their timeand ours," Barry said.

Although he loves the real estate busi-ness, Barry said there is room forimprovement, particularly in the area ofland use controls. Barry would like tofocus on environmental concerns andoptimizing land use in clustered areassuch as downtown Milwaukee. "I wouldrevamp the protection of the environmentand the way people live."

Outside of the business world, Barryhas engaged himself in both family lifeand community events. Barry belongs toseveral Milwaukee social and athleticclubs. He is a Rotarian and sits on theadvisory committee to the Chicago TitleCompany. "I'm also on the advisory boardto the College of Arts and Letters at theUniversity of Notre Dame," he said. Barryhas four children and enjoys sailing, ten-nis, golf, and traveling.

After a lifetime of putting together awhole lot of real estate transactions whereboth buyers and sellers came out as win-ners, Barry can't imagine doing anythingelse. "I plan to stay in real estate until theday I die," he said.

TIMOTHY R.VERHOFF

Most people just swearwhen they are fed upwith federal politics. NotEric Dahlstrom. After fin-ishing law school, hedecided he'd had enoughwith this nation. And hedecided to work withpeople from a differentnation.

In fact, the 1976 LawSchool graduate just fin-ished his term as DeputyAttorney General for thatnation: the NavajoNation.

Dahlstrom's careerambitions hit early in hiscollege career. Whilestudying political scienceat Beloit College, heinterned at the office ofIndian Education inWashington, D.C. It wasthere he realized hisdesire to attend lawschool. Moreover, he recognized hisyearning to work with Native Americans.

"It appealed to me largely because ofthe political environment in 1970. TheUnited States had just invaded Cambodia.It was the pinnacle of the antiwar move-ment. Working with Indians appealed tome because Native American politics wasnot interrelated with any of that," he said.

After law school, Dahlstrom snatched

ERIC DAHLSTROM'76

up his first job with the DNA-People'sLegal Services, the largest Indian legal ser-vices program in the United States. Theorganization, originally referred to by itsNavajo name, Dinebeiina Nahiilna Be Aga-ditahe, meaning "attorneys who contributeto the economic revitalization of the Peo-ple", provides free civil legal services toresidents of the over 10 million acre Nava-jo and Hopi reservations.

It was through Wisconsin Attorney

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General Jim Doylethat Dahlstromfound out aboutthe opportunity atDNA. "Jim was justback from workingwith DNA. He wasrepresenting someMenominee Indi-ans in a criminalcase, and he wassupervising clinicalwork at the LawSchool. I did someresearch for himon the criminalcase, and he toldme about DNA,"he said.

So, Dahlstromand his wife,Margo Joan,packed theirbelongings, movedto Window Rock,Ariz., and he gothis first taste oftribal courts. Navajo

tribal courts, although distinct in their owncustoms, resemble Anglo courts. TheNavajo court system now consists of sixjudicial districts. And each district courthas general civil jurisdiction and limitedcriminal jurisdiction. The system also has athree justice supreme court that hearsappeals from lower court decisions andfrom certain final administrative orders.The Navajo Supreme Court abolished trialde novo at appellate level and hears only

issues of law raised in lower court.However, the tribal courts do have

some unorthodox practices as well. Forexample, judges and advocates are notrequired to be law school graduates. Theydo have to be a member of the NavajoBar Association and can do so by attend-ing law school or working as an appren-tice to a certified bar member for twoyears.

"Every tribe has their own rules onwhat it takes to practice in their courts,"Dahlstrom noted. "Navajo is the mostdeveloped. There are over 200 membersof the Navajo bar. I took the first Navajobar in 1976. Prior to that it was a moreinformal process. It is kind of like the oldtraining system that was used in the statejurisdiction. Navajos have fewer lawschool graduate judges than a lot of othertribes. Some tribes use only law schoolgrads. But it varies. Some of the Pueblosuse a religious leader as a decisionmaker," Dahlstrom said.

In addition to unique bar admissionrequirements, the Navajos also use Peace-maker Courts. These courts, established ateach judicial district, "use traditional lead-ers of the community to act as mediatorsof disputes rather than using an adversaryprocess," Dahlstrom mentioned.

Dahlstrom's position within DNA, how-ever, left him little chance to practice inthe tribal courts. "We were allowed topractice, but as a matter of policy, theattorneys who were not Indian did nothandle Indian versus Indian cases. Isupervised, trained and assisted the tribalcourt advocates," he recalled.

In Dec., 1979, Dahlstrom left DNA tostart up Four Rivers Indian Legal Servicesin Sacaton, Ariz. "There were four reserva-tions in Arizona that did not have accessto any legal services. I was given a grantto start the same sort of program (asDNA), so I did." Dahlstrom claims thatFour Rivers was the same type of opera-tion, with a few exceptions. "We hadoffices on two reservations and servedmembers of four reservations. We alsorepresented tribes as clients, which theDNA does not do. And Four Rivers wasfounded in part by the tribal govern-ments."

After eight years with Four Rivers,Dahlstrom left to take the position ofdeputy attorney general for the Navajo

Nation. While working for the NavajoNation, Dahlstrom landed his biggest case,one involving former chairman of theNavajo tribe, Peter MacDonald. "Justbefore I arrived in Window Rock, the tribepurchased the largest ranch in Arizona for$31 million. Then it came out that therehad been a flip on the deal, and it hadbeen purchased for $7 million less, onehour before that. And the guy who did theflip was an old buddy of Peter MacDon-ald. The results were Senate hearings forPeter MacDonald, and disclosure that hewas involved in the deal and a cover-up,"said Dahlstrom.

According to the Chicago Tribune,MacDonald maintained a lavish lifestylewhile many of the 125,000 Navajos he waselected to lead lived in abject poverty.MacDonald was eventually convicted ofbribery and sentenced to six years inprison.

Although Dahlstrom was not the onlynonIndian working for the Navajo Depart-ment of Justice, he admits that he occa-sionally felt he was an outsider. "I don'tthink that I was poorly treated, but I wasexcluded by the language alone. Much ofthe business of the Nation is conducted inNavajo, and I don't speak Navajo. It's notunlike working in any other cultural envi-ronment where you are a minority. Youare not always able to fit in all the time. Ioften thought of myself as a visitor."

Dahlstrom also said he has seen anincrease in the number of Native Ameri-cans becoming involved in the legal fieldover the past 15 years. "There are a lotmore Navajo lawyers now than when Istarted, But the biggest thing I've seen isthe growth and development of the tribalcourt system. There has been a realincrease in the level of sophistication andthe amount of independence within thegovernment for the court system. There'san appreciation for an independent judi-cial system."

Dahlstrom also explained that althoughsome Native Americans are bitter becausethey have been forced to accept the Anglocourt system over their traditional ways,the Navajos have integrated some aspectsof the Anglo courts with their own cus-toms. "There is a desire to maintain theold values," he said. "But Navajo society isno more monolithic than any other soci-ety. Overall, there is a general desire to

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develop the government and economy ina way that is Navajo. And that means mix-ing. From what I understand, Navajoshave always been willing to take fromtheir neighbors what they thought wasuseful. Shepherding and silversmithing arethe two best examples."

Recently, Dahlstrom left the office ofdeputy attorney general and went into pri-vate practice. But it was not a hard deci-sion to make. Under Navajo law, thedeputy and attorney general are politicalappointees. And they serve a set term inoffice like other elected officials. "Eversince I went to the Navajo Nation, I knewmy last day would be Jan. 15, 1991," hesaid.

Now, he is opening a Phoenix officefor the firm of Rothstein, Bennett,Donatelli, Hughes, & Dahlstrom. "Theyare from Santa Fe, a pretty well-knowncriminal defense, civil rights litigation firm.I'm going to specialize in Indian affairsand natural resources. And I still representthe Navajo tribe in a couple of cases."

How does opening this office compareto starting up Four Rivers Indian LegalServices? "It's a lot easier. I'm opening anoffice in downtown Phoenix, and every-thing is there. When I opened the office inSacaton, the first thing I had to do wasfind someplace to live. It wasn't that easy;it took a while. Then I had to rent anoffice. And I ended up doing the electricalwork for the office and a lot of the workon the building. For example, I had tobuild the shelves for the library. I didn'thave a pool of legal secretaries to choosefrom either. I had to hire staff and thentrain them. It was very interesting, butvery challenging," he said.

When he is not scurrying about, open-ing a new office, Dahlstrom enjoys spend-ing time with his wife and their son Mar-cus. "He's five, and I try to give him asmuch time as I can. He is my biggestinterest. Right now, I'm teaching him howto ride a bike and all those fun things," heremarked.

As for the future, Dahlstrom plans tosee where private practice takes him."And if I can't find a way to representpeople and cases I feel right about, I'llprobably give up private practice andwork for some type of public interestgroup," he said. "I'm just looking forwardto a new adventure."