My maths teacher was married to a criminal barrister, so I did a mini-pupillage at his set. Loved it but decided I didn’t want to do criminal law. Over the years that followed I did more mini-pupillages, including at a commercial set, a common law set, as well as work experiences at law firms, the BBC and Foreign Office. All of which confirmed I wanted to do commercial law.
I really wanted to go down the barrister route, but I was the first person in my family to go into law and I didn’t know any barristers growing up. I had been to Durham rather than Oxbridge and I was a girl.
I remember sitting in my law school class on the first day and my lecturer asking the class ‘who wants to go to the Bar?’ I was too shy to even put my hand up. But in the end, I decided to take a chance and went for it with the Bar Vocational Course and pupilled at 4 Pump Court.
I loved being a barrister. The learning curve was very steep. There was a lot of work on the papers, more than I anticipated, but going to court was great fun. After six months I went to court by myself, and basically I did a circuit of all the county courts of London. I was mostly doing road traffic arbitrations worth a few hundred pounds, and my brief fee was £50 with travel included.
My very first case was in the criminal court, defending an octogenarian driver who was losing his licence because he’d had a road traffic accident. It was really important that he didn’t lose his licence so that he could continue travelling to see his grandchildren. But because I had always focused on commercial law, I had never even been to a criminal court before. I was so nervous about it, I got up at 5am and went down to Maidstone to the site of the accident, having the previous night practised my submissions in front of my flatmate. I was so out of my depth. But I managed to get him off with some marks on his licence, so he was a very happy man.
It’s quite a lonely and isolating place, the Bar. While you may work with your seniors and solicitor team, there was a lot of sitting alone in chambers. You don’t input into the strategic side of the case; you’re only as good as the papers you’re given.
A big early case for me was the British Library construction litigation. I spent six months in the basement of a solicitor firm’s office, going through thousands of documents. I thought: ‘Maybe this isn’t the life for me.’
I went to Wilde Sapte, which was then the pre-eminent banking firm in the City. It was quite innovative in that it had an advocacy unit led by Rory McAlpine, who is now at Skadden, and it was fantastic. I graduated immediately to the High Court, which I was in and out of every day. I learned the tools of the trade as a solicitor while being able to hone my advocacy skills as well.
Being a solicitor-advocate does give you a competitive advantage. I know what it’s like to stand up in court and understand the importance of precision in your pleadings. When I read a witness statement, I’m looking at it with a view to cross-examining it. Those five years of hardcore advocacy were invaluable and they sit with me today. That’s why I make all my juniors do advocacy training – it provides a really important perspective.
One of the partners once threw a bin at me. They shall remain nameless. They asked me a few days before if I was interested on working on a case with them and I said, ‘yes, absolutely’. A few days later they came storming into my office, shouting ‘You’ve done nothing on this!’ I replied, ‘Well you haven’t given me any papers.’ They picked up the bin, threw it at me, and I ducked.
Without doubt, my background spurred me on. It wasn’t just being a woman: it was being non-Oxbridge, and being in the first of my family to go to university. I was just so focused on succeeding. I worked incredibly hard, always went above and beyond on my cases. Didn’t blink an eye at working on weekends. Every case I received I just saw as an amazing opportunity to get better.
I went to Weil in 2000 – at a time when you were considered mad if you went to an American firm. The London office was run (and still is) by the imitable Mike Francies. It felt much more meritocratic than an English law firm – they didn’t care about what qualifications you had, if you were good, you got the work and were never held back by your ambition or your PQE.
The partner shouted ‘You’ve done nothing on this!’ I replied, ‘Well you haven’t given me any papers.’ They threw the bin at me.
I did Enron there – working two Christmases in a row. It was huge for me. I was acting in London for ECTRIC, the US trading arm based in the UK. I was closing down all these trades, sitting on the deal floor and then litigating the recoveries. I was such a young lawyer, I hadn’t even re-qualified as a solicitor yet. That was an extraordinary experience.
After moving to Bingham McCutchen in 2003 as a senior associate, I made partner within a year. I was the first litigator there, and worked closely with James Roome, who is the most extraordinary lawyer and mentor. The best and biggest mandate there was the Elektrim case. That really honed my skills as a litigator. I was acting for a conglomerate of bondholders before bondholder litigation became fashionable. I really learned how to marry commercial strategy with legal strategy to drive solutions.
My litigation style? I’m very strategic. I don’t just open the white book and go through all the steps. I’m very focused on what success looks like, which isn’t always going to trial. I am not an aggressive letter writer for the sake of it – that’s a real downside to our profession. It’s expensive and unnecessary. But I am fearless, not afraid to take on difficult cases and pursue them vigorously.
When I was doing the Apple v Qualcomm case, there was a suggestion that my witness statement had misled the court, which was completely wrong and it got kicked out. The suggestion was made by opposing counsel, who I had previously worked with on a number of occasions. Although I was absolutely furious at the time, I accept that he was acting under instructions in what was an extremely hard-fought piece of litigation.
All those shouty letters at 7pm on a Friday night… there are some firms you can set your watch by. I just think ‘really? It’s so predictable! Do something that will surprise me for a change!’ The problem with those shouty litigators is that it ceases to have any impact whatsoever and you become immune to it.
I’m a details person. I know every single one of my cases, where it’s at, what the documents say, and what the arguments are.
I wasn’t looking to move, but I was approached about Boies Schiller Flexner. I had passed up four years prior to that the opportunity to open the London office of another US law firm. It sat with me since then. When Boies Schiller approached me, I was so excited because it was such a unique opportunity where litigation was front and centre of its DNA. The opportunity to build something from scratch was really exciting. I was just turning 40, I’d had my children, and it felt like a time to re-accelerate and do something different.
Looking back now, that decision seems completely insane. At that age, leaving an established legal practice to start something like that. But I haven’t got a single regret about it.
We had a couple of US lawyers on secondment from Barclays when I started but otherwise it was just me and a secretary. The first person I hired was Fiona Huntriss, who had been my trainee at Bingham. She had huge potential, and I really enjoyed working with her. Finding those stars and helping to develop them is so satisfying. She made partner while on maternity leave a few years later, well done to her!
Are US firms more cut-throat? Personally I think it’s a sweeping generalisation. There are English firms that lack collegiality. Culture is driven by leadership as well as the compensation structure. If your structure is particularly ruthless and rewards the culture of the individual, then you will foster more individualistic behaviour. On the other hand, if you have a system that rewards collaboration and high performance, it doesn’t follow that you will have a dog-eat-dog culture.
There is no tension between the US firm culture and promoting an inclusive working environment. I overhauled our compensation structure last year, and now one of the questions we ask partners when it comes to compensation is ‘what contributions have you made towards diversity and inclusion?’ If you do it right, it actually marries together really well.
As a leader I’ve grown more confident over the years. No-one really teaches you how to be a leader. My style is collaborative and I try to build consensus as much as possible, but I have to come to learn that you can’t always have consensus. You do have to lead, and make difficult decisions, and stand by them. I’m not scared of not being liked because of a decision. My team would probably describe me as a benevolent dictator. I’m absolutely happy with that! You can get things done.
I don’t put yes-people around me. Someone really important in that regard for me is Linda Penfold, who oversees all the business functions and administration. She will challenge me and push me out of my comfort zone, and that is really important. You need people to test your views.
You have to be really careful not to hire in your mirror. If you had an office full of Natasha Harrisons running around, it would be a nightmare. I made that mistake a number of years back at a previous firm and we ended up with a team of purely feisty young women which wasn’t very inclusive! That taught me early on how important diversity is.
My proudest achievement? Building Boies Schiller’s London office from scratch. Attracting and retaining the most amazing set of clients, the most amazing set of lawyers and a brilliant administrative team.
I like to swim and ski. I used to swim competitively as a child but not anymore. I train four times a week, and I play the piano, but not as much as I should. But honestly, I spend most of my free time running around after my children!
Combining childcare and working from home during the pandemic was hideous. I remember I had a call with Tom Hibbert at RPC and I had to stop him and say ‘Tom, I’m sorry, we’re having a meltdown here so I’ll have to call you back!’ But I’ve had dinner every single night with my children since lockdown and I’ve never had that before. It’s really important to carve that time out and that is an important lesson I have learnt.
I’ve always encouraged autonomy and flexibility, and that’s the Boies Schiller way of doing things. I would be horrified if someone missed a parent’s evening because of work, or couldn’t be at home because their child was sick – I’d send them home! I believe we all need to spend time in person in the office to collaborate and learn, and I worry about junior associates not having that access to senior lawyers to discuss and bounce ideas. However, the pandemic is an opportunity to carve out a new way or working – with the best of both worlds.
One of my favourite books is The Awakening by Kate Chopin. I’m a bit of a 18th/19th century literature fan, I specialised in that period in history. I blend that top-end literature with business books and then total crap for when I’m exhausted and just want to switch off. I’d turn to a book sooner than I’d turn to the TV.
I recently re-discovered martinis, courtesy of Susan Dunn of Harbour, but I think I’m best described as a person who likes a very cold dry glass of white wine. Not any old stuff.
I love Marmite. Absolutely love it. Packed full of vitamin B. On toast, or rice cakes, or with eggs. Marmite soldiers with eggs. Twiglets? Yes as well. I probably have some sort of vitamin B deficiency which I try to medicate with Marmite.
My life mantra: What would you do if you weren’t afraid? When I’m making big decisions, there’s always fear attached. I try to put the fear aside and say: what would I do if not afraid?
Natasha Harrison is a managing partner of Boies Schiller Flexner
Portrait: Tom Stockill