When the  Wall Street Journal calls for Spitzer’s head, you know it’s the end of the road.  But it’s times like this, after we enjoy the delicious irony, that we can put our detached beliefs on the table and prove whether we will give the same consideration that we ask for our clients to those who aren’t worthy.

Eliot “Ness” Spitzer would not have cut me a break.  Nor you.  Just ask Hank Greenberg or a dozen others who were ruined by this man as he climbed the ladder of prominence as the “Sheriff of Wall Street.”  Of course, this makes it all the more difficult to ponder why he would risk everything.  Norm Pattis explains that he was thinking with the wrong head, and he’s no doubt right. 

Like any man who assume a position of such prominence, there is hubris, which will prove to be his ultimate downfall should he prove incapable of controlling himself. 

Under a slightly different set of circumstances, I might well be in the Spitzer administration today.  Not because I was a fan or supporter of Eliot Spitzer, but because he was a Democrat elected governor by a huge margin, giving him a mandate to challenge certain practices in the state that I believed demanded reform.

A dear friend of mine was close to Eliot and his wife from their early days as lawyers.  My friend had been engaged in a number of important public service functions, and I admired the work he had been doing with non-profits to help others.  When he was given a top post in the Spitzer administration, we talked.

There were a number of areas that I was interested in helping, including criminal justice and education.  I’ve had an exceptionally good run as a private criminal defense lawyer, and felt strongly that I could contribute to the betterment of a system that I was swift to criticize.  I wanted to be part of the solution, not just another guy pointing out problems.

And so my friend shepherded my name to the group of people who were making decisions about who was worthy of involvement.  I waited a while.  No word.  Finally, I called my friend to ask what was happening.  He hemmed and hawed a bit, then came clean. 

The people who had been charged with putting together the team of criminal justice decision-makers were a bunch of ex-prosecutors.  These were the types of guys who were called the “white collar crime defense lawyers” at Biglaw, guys who shifted firms but never shifted allegiance.  They now had manicures, but there hands had never gotten dirty, like mine, by defending people in the trenches.

The decision-makers remembered me.  All too well.  I had been their adversary when they were “doing justice” in the United States Attorneys offices, the District Attorneys offices, the Attorney Generals office.  When they saw my name as someone who wanted to help, they chuckled.  Thanks, but no thanks.  I was told that the Spitzer administration had no place for a criminal defense lawyer.

Eliot Spitzer is in freefall now, by his own hand.  He will, eventually, hit the ground.  Hard.  I could take this opportunity to pay him back, to remind his cronies that they chuckled at the prospect that a criminal defense lawyer had anything to offer the people of the State of New York.  I was ready to give up a great deal to serve others, and they laughed at the prospect.

I will not seize this opportunity for payback, either personal or general.  Neither Eliot Spitzer, nor the smug coterie of prosecutors who he surrounded himself with, is of sufficient consequence to change my principles. 

Eliot Spitzer has proven himself to be a human being.  He has made ruinous choices in his personal life, like so many others before him.  The mighty fall, and they deserve to fall.  But I will not relish his fall and join in the chorus for his ouster.  I will demand that he learn from this experience, to appreciate how far from perfect he is and how much he has in common with his fellow man.  I will point out that he is not above others, that his lack of mercy and understanding toward others was terribly wrong, but that he can now be a better person if he recognizes his hubris.

It’s unlikely that Eliot Spitzer will call me this morning and ask me my thoughts.  It’s far more likely that he will sit in his majestic Fifth Avenue apartment with his pro-prosequi advisers, who will tell him in hushed tones that they, virile men all, understand his urges and needs, but that his sin is unforgivable.  These are men who have never forgiven another.  Only they are allowed their secret errors, and only as long as they remain secret. 

Eliot Spitzer will be counseled by to resign.  There is little doubt that this is the only outcome he will see as a viable end to the shame.  Lloyd Constantine will urge him to consider alternatives, but Spitzer will be broken and unable to face dishonor.  The die was cast yesterday.  Now, it’s just a death watch.

And the opportunity to learn and grow from this flagrant demonstration of hubris will be lost, and New York will be no better for this law-and-order Governor’s disgrace.

Update:  The New York Times editorial speaks to Spitzer’s arrogance and the harm he has done to the cause of reform in Albany.  Why did no one notice the arrogance when they were annointing him Emperor (pun and irony intended) in his run for governor?