Law Partners Will Do Anything To Get A Leg Up

Today is Thanksgiving, which means the yearly war over the drumsticks will be waged across America’s dinner tables.

But for two of Spokane’s biggest turkeys, I mean attorneys, the drumstick tug-of-war is a year-round wishbone of contention.

Meet Joe Esposito and Bill Tombari, lawyering delinquents who share a downtown practice in the ornate old Paulsen Center.

Don’t be duped by their considerable humor and charm. They are connivers who will stoop to any length to make sure the Metro Cafe’s succulent drumsticks wind up on their gravy-laden lunch plates.

The drumstick rustlers gave me a peek at their madness Tuesday when they invited me to sit in on the turkey lunch special at the Metro.

“In legal parlance, what we do is known as the Covenant of Seizing,” explains Tombari, 52, an expert in lease and contract law.

“Yeah,” adds Esposito, 56, wiping a glob of fresh turkey grease from his chin, “it basically means possession is nine-tenths of the law.”

Roasting a Thanksgiving-quality bird for lunch on Tuesdays is a 13-year tradition at the Metro, 510 W. Riverside in the Sherwood Mall.

It’s also become tradition for Esposito and Tombari to get their mitts on as many of the dark-meat turkey gams as they can.

Because of the turkey’s inherent design flaw, there are, alas, only one pair of drumsticks to a bird. Science, I pray, will someday remedy this.

The bird’s limitation means that the Metro’s drumsticks are probably the best lunch deal in town. Owner Swanee Swanstrom charges the same $4.50 to those fortunate gluttons who wind up with the ample legs.

“We’ve gotten most of them,” boasts Esposito, who handles bankruptcy cases. “We could circle the block with drumsticks.”

While Tombari was in the restroom, Esposito demonstrated his flair for the diabolical by graciously giving me his partner’s drumstick.

“Joe, you’ve never given up a drumstick in your life!” yelled Tombari upon his return.

“My kids used to say ‘sharing time is a happy time,”’ responded Esposito, scooping up a forkload of stuffing. “I want you to be very happy.”

For years, these hog-gobblers beat the lunch crowd and placed first dibs on the sticks. But other drumstick fanciers caught on.

“I try to outfox them and sneak in before they do,” says Don Rose, an accountant who also works in the Paulsen Center.

Esposito and Tombari retaliated. They now call Swanson on Monday nights to reserve the drumsticks as if they were Rose Bowl tickets.

“When Don sees us eating those drumsticks, he gets a long look on his face,” says Esposito. “It’s kind of the sad look worn by a guy who wants to date a girl, but always sees her with someone else.”

Tombari says they try not to make eye contact with drumstick competitors. “Sometimes we sit facing the windows. We don’t want to cause a scene.”

Told that Esposito and Tombari were ordering drumsticks by telephone, Rose exploded: “That’s unfair. These guys are thieves. You’d think they were attorneys or something.”

As difficult as it is to believe, there are people reading this who won’t understand why Esposito and Tombari are so obsessed.

That’s because the world is divided into two classes of eaters: Self-assured carnivores who are unafraid to grab a drumstick and start gnawing; and prissy, white-meat-eating weenies.

“A bunch of weight-conscious yuppies,” growls Esposito, going after the cranberry sauce.

As you can see, Thanksgiving just means an extra day of drumsticks to these latter-day pilgrims.

“I love drumsticks, but I don’t get ‘em very often,” sighs Frank Jurdy, an oral surgeon who also works in the Paulsen Center. “There’s no way to outfox those two. They’ve got this drumstick thing down to a science.”

, DataTimes