MD attorney John C. Murphy spends career 'defending the little guy'

Daily Record, The (Baltimore), Jul 1, 2005 by Jen DeGregorio

Driving a church van on Saturdays is one way 65-year-old attorney John C. Murphy escapes the stress of life as a land-use and condemnation lawyer in Baltimore.

He likes the long drive around the winding roads of the city. He likes the chattiness of the elderly women, for whom his afternoon chauffer ride to church is often the first time they have gotten out of the house all week.

It's a job Murphy's wife, Frances Lewis, volunteered him for 25 years ago during a Roman Catholic mass, one he has executed faithfully, without pay, at least one Saturday a month ever since.

It's what I do, he said. Someone has to drive them to church.

The small joy Murphy gets from driving the women is not unlike the joy he derives from his real job: defending people who are about to be thrown out of their homes or businesses when the government exercises its power of eminent domain.

His clients, like the women he drives, are the folks who are not always seen or heard.

They are the people who know the dark side of Baltimore's renaissance, which has been fueled by city urban-renewal plans that use eminent domain to transform crime-ridden neighborhoods into city hotspots.

The process has changed Baltimore neighborhoods such as Reservoir Hill from blight to bright, added value to city property and seems to be bringing people back to a city that experienced a dramatic population decline.

But eminent domain - often calling for the demolition of entire city blocks - also threatens many residents' homes and livelihoods.

When those residents want a fighting chance to keep their property, or at least get better compensation, they often call Murphy.

Super-fight

Among the Chevy Chase native's more publicized cases was his representation of nine Baltimore businesses forced to relocate to clear the path for a $100 million development on the city's West Side.

The business owners submitted redevelopment plans that would have enabled them to stay in the so-called Superblock, a five-block area bordered by Clay, Fayette, Howard, Lexington and Liberty streets and Park Avenue.

But the city's economic development arm, the Baltimore Development Corp., chose another plan without disclosing why, which Murphy argued violated the state's Open Meetings and Public Information acts.

A Baltimore judge ruled last month that the quasi-public BDC could be considered a private entity and was therefore not subject to the acts.

It was a big loss, Murphy said.

He has high hopes that the appeals court might rule in his favor.

But those hopes were dimmed after a June Supreme Court ruling that allows the government to use eminent domain to promote public and private economic development.

For these small businesses I generally represent, this is almost like a death sentence, Murphy said of the ruling.

I really think it's a human rights issue as much as I think it's a property rights issue and unfortunately the law doesn't recognize this, he said. They always seem to condemn the small guy. They never condemn Nordstrom's.

Masochistic?

Condemnation law is a field full of losses, such as the Superblock case or the Supreme Court ruling. But Murphy submits appeal after appeal. When he loses the appeal, he wheels and deals.

He likes to talk and he likes to negotiate, said Lou Boulmetis, owner of Hippodrome Hatters and a former client of Murphy's. He'll talk until he's blue in the face.

The relentlessness paid off when Murphy helped Boulmetis relocate his business: The city used eminent domain to kick Hippodrome Hatters out of its longtime home on Eutaw Street for a development in Baltimore's downtown.

Murphy lost the eminent domain case, but fought to get the city to provide fair-market value for Boulmetis' property, eventually securing more than twice the city's original offer, Boulmetis said.

We tried to stay but it just wasn't possible - because of the city's authority. They had their minds made up to do what they did, he said. We got the best deal we could.

That success occurred, Boulmetis reasoned, because Murphy considers his job to be something more than just a nine-to-five.

When you deal with John, it very quickly becomes more than a business relationship, because John really puts his heart and soul into his work, Boulmetis said.

Lewis, his wife, said that people do not realize just how much heart.

Sometimes he gets too emotional about some of these cases, she said. Sometimes I tell him he should have been a social worker instead of a lawyer.

She added: You have to wonder, is he a masochist or something? - [But] that might speak to John's optimism.

On the other side

At a court session last year, Murphy overheard Baltimore City Councilman Keiffer Mitchell remark to a friend, Oh, there's John Murphy, always defending the little guy.

I didn't mind, Murphy said of the overheard gossip. In fact, Murphy likes the label, although he said that defender of the little guy is a role he fell into.

Murphy began his career on the other side of the fence, working for the government.

After graduating from the College of the Holy Cross and New York University Law School in 1965, Murphy took a job in the Maryland Attorney General's Office.