Benjeman L. Nichols always wanted to teach music and admittedly was "the biggest band nerd in my school," such that he was given the senior superlative, "most likely to become a band director."
Nichols majored in music education at Valparaiso University and his first job was as a general music teacher at Bell Elementary School in Chicago.
Eventually, he received a musicology Fulbright Scholarship to research in Dresden, Germany and, during that year, the Fulbright Commission invited Nichols and others to several conferences and lectures, and many of the speakers had coincidentally been trained as lawyers.
They likely were the first lawyers Nichols had ever met.
"As they listened and responded to questions, I felt like I could actually see them categorize and arrange information into issues and arguments. It seemed like something that I could do too, and that's when I first considered becoming an attorney," Nichols said. "I later enrolled in some law classes at the university in Dresden, and I liked them enough that I decided I should just go to law school."
And that he did—at Loyola University Chicago School of Law.
Fast forward to 2015, and Nichols, 37, who lives in Andersonville, is an attorney at Cavanagh Law Group, where he exclusively represents injured people in civil cases. He primarily works on medical malpractice, wrongful death, products liability, and federal civil rights cases. Nichols, who married his husband, Brian A. von Rueden, last summer ( though their marriage is retroactive to their civil union in November, 2011 ), was promoted to partner, it was announced in January, and Nichols is believed to be one of the first openly LGBT partners at a Chicago personal injury and medical malpractice law firm.
"Functionally speaking, the partnership changes very little of my day-to-day work at the firm, but it's still an important distinction," Nichols said. "Clients and defense attorneys pay attention to whether they are talking to an associate or a partner, and they are simply more willing to work with and trust a partner—much like a patient may be happier to be treated by an attending [doctor more] than a resident. On a practical level, it's a recognition that I am on the right track, and that my firm feels comfortable stamping me with that added imprimatur, which is a vote of confidence for my ability to represent the firm in my public interactions."
Nichols specializes in plaintiff's personal-injury law. The firm handles essentially any kind of case where someone has been hurt because of someone else's negligence, he said. "I began my career as a defense attorney, where I primarily defended doctors and hospitals in medical malpractice actions, but felt strongly that I wanted to be on the other side—to represent the people who were injured. When a single, injured plaintiff files a case against a multinational corporation, an insurance company, or a hospital network, there is a colossal difference in power, sophistication, and resources. When my fight for the plaintiff evens the scales and brings about justice, I get tremendous satisfaction."
Nichols, though, didn't always want to be an attorney. He was born in central Illinois, where his dad was a coal miner. His dad then got a job as a painter in Charlotte, North Carolina, which is where Nichols grew up, and where he considers his hometown.
"I didn't grow up around lawyers; I didn't know any lawyers; and I doubt that I had ever spoken to a lawyer until I was in my 20s," he said. "I have spent a great deal of time contemplating why there aren't more ( openly gay partners in his field ), but this ultimately devolves into a bunch of stereotypes and pop psychology that never really provides a satisfactory answer. Although not yet perfect, the Chicago legal community has always struck me as a welcoming and encouraging place for members of the LGBT community to work. Yet, whatever the reason, there just aren't many of us within the plaintiff's bar. Hopefully, my being out will create a space for others to join the ranks. And for those in the LGBT community who are injured, but who are concerned that their lawyer won't understand or respect them because of their sexual orientation, hopefully my partnership sends the message that the plaintiff's bar is a welcoming place where everyone's voice can be heard."
Nichols outed himself to his firm during the interview process, he said. It was not an issue to Cavanagh Law Group.
"Growing up as a gay man has taught me empathy, and I think it gives me an additional way to relate to people," he said. "I am better at my job when my clients and witnesses trust and respect me, and that's more likely to happen when I can start off seeing things from their perspective and trying to meet them wherever they are."
Away from the office, Nichols said he has "a lot of quirky hobbies." For instance, he likes to read non-fiction books in German and Southern Gothic short stories in English, preferably with one of their two cats on his lap. He also likes to write short stories, bake sourdough bread and make croissants from scratch. Plus Nichols plays the guitar and enjoys singing. Yes, that means karaoke.
Nichols is on the board of directors for the Lesbian and Gay Bar Association of Chicago, and a member of Equality Illinois.
"I wish I had known, before going to law school, that my law degree would render me completely unable to enjoy courtroom dramas. I used to watch reruns of Matlock, and I loved the surprise and savvy arguments of so many trial scenes in television and film," he said. "Now I am the worst person to watch those with. The inevitable evidentiary problems make me twitch, and I am known to scream at the TV about how improper it is. My husband just rolls his eyes at me."
