Hamilton Herald Masthead

Editorial


Front Page - Friday, September 23, 2011

Bankruptcy lawyer goes for broke on behalf of clients




Attorney Thomas Ray practices bankruptcy law in Chattanooga. He urges full disclosure, and says he drills without novocaine to get down to not just the symptoms, but also the cause of a client’s financial problems. - David Laprad

Attorney Thomas Ray was blessed with an on-off switch. When he goes to sleep at night, he’s out like a light, and when he wakes up in the morning, he’s ready to go. “I don’t need two or three cups of coffee before I can get going,” he says, smiling. Ray begins his mornings at 5 a.m.

First comes a workout at Sports Barn, and then he’s sitting at his desk by 6:45 a.m., which is when many of his colleagues are groggily swallowing their first cup of coffee. To maintain a good clip throughout the day, he eats healthily. Ray isn’t just borrowing a page from “Younger Next Year,” a book he’s reading for the second time, he’s living its words. Sitting at a conference table in his office on Jordan Drive, he looks as though his skin can barely contain the energy coiled up within his small frame. Staying in shape gives Ray the mental and physical endurance he needs to do his job. As a bankruptcy attorney with an active practice, rarely a day goes by when he doesn’t make someone go, “Ouch!”

“I do not run a pain-free office. I drill without novocaine,” he says, still smiling. “I get down to not just the symptoms, but also the cause.” The symptom with which Ray deals the most is the loss of a business, whether it’s due to mistakes or calamity.

“One hundred percent of households, 100 percent of gov­ernments, and 100 percent of businesses are mismanaged. Sometimes when you mismanage, you’re OK; other times, you’re not,” he says. Ray sees people who fall into the “not” category. One of the most challenging aspects of his work is getting his clients to accept giving up things. While that’s never easy, it has given Ray one of the many humorous stories he likes to tell.

“I had a couple with three kids, and his income had taken a significant downturn. They could not possibly afford the house they were in, so I said to them, ‘You’re not going to be able to keep your house.’ And she said, ‘It’s not our house I’m worried about, it’s our kids.’ And I said, ‘Oh, you can keep your kids.” While Ray was simply trying to make his clients laugh, his tone is generally as serious as the action of bankruptcy is, especially when it comes to asset disclosure.

“I want full disclosure. Men will sometimes come to see me without their wives. I always urge them to bring their wives. When they hear that, they know they have to divulge everything,” Ray says. Telling a spouse about a monetary mess is one thing; coming clean with the government is another. Ray says he (figuratively) beats on clients and warns them of the consequences of not being honest.

“Not telling the truth in a bankruptcy case is a greased skid into federal prison. So, I work hard at getting my clients to provide me with everything I need before we file a case. I tell them three things: One, it’s a federal crime to withhold details; two, they have to look at themselves in their mirror; and three, most of the time, someone knows what you have, so you’d better disclose it,” Ray says. Ray does offer a little novocaine in the form of compassionate counsel. He tells people to not beat themselves up over past decisions, to look at where they’ll be in six months, and to make the decisions that will get them to that point in time.

A Knoxville, Tenn., native, Ray was voted most spirited in high school. Somehow, he earned his undergraduate and law degrees in four-and-a-half years at the University of Tennessee at Knoxville, and then in 1971, he came to Chattanooga and started knocking on doors. Ray says it was just as hard for a young lawyer to find a job back then as it is today, but he did manage to land a part-time position doing insurance defense work. Two years later, he admitted he was barking up the wrong tree professionally and went out on his own with attorney Scott Brown. The phrase “humble beginnings” defined their firm.

“We were in the Chatta­nooga Bank Building. We had shag carpet, and water would drip off my air conditioner, and I had to wear a coat during the winter. One day, a young runner brought me some papers to sign, and he said, ‘Someday, I’d like to have my own law practice, too.’ Then he looked around my office and said, ‘But I wouldn’t want to start this low.’” Ray told the runner he’d be a better lawyer if he did.

At the time, Ray was doing estate work. He segued to bankruptcy work slowly, but eventually developed a good enough reputation to speak publicly and write articles on the subject. In addition, Ray has been listed in “Best Lawyers in America” since 1987, but says “a dollar will buy you that and a cup of coffee.” He’s also a fellow of the American College of Bankruptcy. Ray eschews labels, though. He’s also frugal, which means he practices what he preaches. Ray even dropped a certification because “it cost more than it was worth.”

His time at home, however, is invaluable. Although he works long hours and goes to bed early enough to get seven to eight hours of sleep, he treasures his time with his family, including his wife and two sons. “One son is in law school at Columbia. He earned his undergraduate degree at Harvard, and he has a job starting next year in Palo Alto. My other son was a Morehead Scholar at North Carolina. He works for Janus Funds in Denver. So, both of my sons went to schools I enjoyed visiting, and now both are living in cities I enjoy visiting,” he says.

In addition to being a travel buff, Ray likes to snow ski, ride his bicycle, and hike. He also engages his brain when he’s not at work by reading and teaching Sunday school and discipleship classes at Christ United Methodist Church. Ray has dealt with ticklish problems. He’s seen husbands fail to protect their wives, wives sued for their husbands’ mistakes, and couples divorce in the wake of a bankruptcy. And he says his clients have presented him with problems that have perplexed him and challenged his abilities.

But he’s never stopping loving his work.

“I love what I do,” he says, emphasizing the word “love.” “Some lawyers hate the practice of law; some people dread going to the office. But I love what I do. Some days are hard, and some days are even harder, but there’s no greater opportunity to help someone than when they’re at their wit’s end and are about to lose everything.”