I was asked by a friend if I knew how many times one person can take the bar exam to be licensed as a lawyer. The simple answer is that there is no limit to the number of times you can take the test, but it is only offered twice a year.
The next question to follow was do we know the record held of an individual taking the bar?
I did some research, and it appears one individual from California failed the bar exam 47 times before passing it on the 48th try. As we have found out in our lives, there is always a story within a story.
Meet Maxcy D. Filer, and after you witness his record of trying to pass that challenging examination, you will agree with me that his actions personify persistence.
As we researched the issue, we found out that Maxcy was happily married and a very proud dad of seven kids holding down two jobs. He graduated from now-closed Van Norman University and took the bar and sadly failed. Lesson of the day coming.
Max spent the next 25 years taking the test, and he never passed, until he took it the 48th time. Maxcy spent over $50,000, as he took hundreds of hours of prep courses, to no avail.
After he took it the 48th time, he was not optimistic, but he pushed on. When the yellow envelope with the bar results arrived at his house, he didn’t bother opening it as he thought it had the same thickness of the previous 47 envelopes.
Maxcy’s wife opened it and was pleased to see that her husband finally passed. The legal community rejoiced and celebrated with Maxcy and his family. Cool and ironic twist – Maxcy had two sons take the bar exam and both passed the first time out, some seven years earlier than their dad did.
For those of us who studied for the bar, it is a very grueling and stressful process. You sequester yourself from the rest of your family and friends, take the bar review course, and hole up studying for 10 hours a day for over two months, and that is coming off three years of difficult studying and testing in law school. No breaks and no time off.
To prepare for the bar exam, you need to blot out your entire life and cram all that bar prep into your head, and just when you think you can’t stuff any more factoids and theories in your cranium, the tutors demand that you study some more. After suffering through what seems like an eternal period, you suddenly find yourself seated for the two-day exam. It is time to hope for the best.
I took my exam in late July of 1989 at the Middlesex Hilton, and it was a doozy. I waited until December of that year to receive the news. Much like Maxcy, I thought I failed on my first try and had lowered my expectations. Drum roll, please.
In those days, we received conflicting news about reading into the thickness or thinness of the envelope that contained the news – if the envelope is thick, it means you passed, or if the envelope is thin, it means you failed.
I received a thin one and thought it was back to studying at the library at Montclair University (then college). I will never forget the anticipation and nervous energy as I ripped open the envelope on that Friday, December 1, 1989. I was shocked, beyond shocked, when I saw the note that informed me that I passed the dreaded bar exam. I recall the letter was signed by the Clerk, Steven Townsend. I remember calling Tom Scrivo to tell him of my surprising news and I had to quickly temper my joy as he waited for his mailman, who was late on that day. Minutes later we heard that everyone in the study group passed, and it was off to John Keefe’s apartment in Newark to celebrate (a much longer story).
The point of this column is not to re-live my anxiety of my law school years, but rather to tell the story about Maxcy and his incredible persistence. If Maxcy can patiently fail a test 47 times over 25 years, and yet still believe he can succeed on the next go around, this should give us all hope that the defeats we experience are simply a prelude to the victory right around the corner. If we learned anything from this event, we are built to be persistent and after a loss, we should simply dust ourselves off and get back on our feet to get across the finish line.