When I was a first-year evening student at Brooklyn Law School, I was meeting a friend for dinner on a fall night at a restaurant then called Picadelli's on Montague Street in Brooklyn Heights. My books were piled high on a table when I thought the woman at the next table was staring at me. I said to her, "Can I help you?" She replied, "My husband wrote that book." Not knowing which book or who her husband was I responded irreverently, "Perhaps he would autograph it for me."