Beverly Hills Court : Don’t Tell Them It’s a Small Claim

The lawsuit concerned a hair transplant. But as the plaintiff stood there, arguing that he had been robbed, that his appearance would never be the same, Judge Pro Tem Michael C. Donaldson had difficulty seeing the problem.

Finally he interrupted the testimony in Beverly Hills Small Claims Court.

“From where I sit,� he told the angry litigant, “it looks like you have a beautiful head of hair.�

Indignantly, the plaintiff raised a hand to his head--and lifted his toupee. Beneath it was a bald scalp spattered with ugly purple scars.

“You think this looks good?� he asked.

Another Case Resolved

This hair-raising turn was all the judge needed: Case closed, another ruling in the books--this one for the aggrieved--in a courthouse where no matter is too wild or inconsequential to be hoisted upon the scales of justice.

Like the swank shops on nearby Rodeo Drive, Small Claims Court does a booming business in a town where millionaires cruise in gleaming Rolls Royces and even the tiniest homes sell for more than $1 million. As Donaldson has come to see, “The people may be different . . . the cost of their threads, or their cars or their toys may be different . . . (but) wealthy people get as angry as anybody else.�

For a $6 filing fee, anyone with a gripe and a free afternoon can take a gamble on Small Claims Court, where attorneys are not allowed (except as plaintiff or defendant) and where civil judgments are awarded up to $2,000. In Beverly Hills each year, nearly 4,000 individuals do exactly that, turning the daily docket into a showcase of the life styles of the rich and furious.

Usual Disagreements

There are, of course, the usual tiffs over bounced checks and unpaid rents, breached contracts and overdue psychotherapy bills. But then there are clashes over pedigreed dogs and custom wigs, false teeth and sexual devices, fur stoles and wedding receptions. Banged-up Mercedes-Benzes and Ferraris make up a hefty share of the caseload. So do battles over damaged artwork and missing antiques, leaky swimming pools and unbubbling Jacuzzis, delinquent limousine fees and poorly dry-cleaned custom ball gowns.

“A cleaning case in Beverly Hills might be over a dress or blouse that’s (worth) $1,900,� said Philip Vandervort, associate producer of the “People’s Court,� a popular television program that draws real-life cases from about 50 small claims courts. One case, Vandervort remembered, involved a Beverly Hills High School student who was suing another teen-ager--his former best friend--for breaking a $1,400 Eames leather chair.

“That’s not something you’ll typically find in a 17-year-old’s bedroom,� Vandervort said.

Gila Yashari, who sold $15 million worth of residential real estate last year, went to court--and won--after buying a faulty $200 telephone answering device. “I deal with the Saudi prince,� she explained. “The man wants to reach me, honey, he’s got to reach me. I’ve got Sinatra people I deal with. . . .�

Ronald Gromfin, 44, a distributor of coin-operated video games, filed suit over shoddy workmanship on a custom-made, $4,500 table built for his new dining room. Sleekly fashioned of black marble and travertine, the table was designed to comfortably seat 10, but it turned out “a few inches too low,� Gromfin complained, and “about 2 inches shorter than it should have been.�

Gromfin promptly slapped a $2,000 suit on the contractor and later settled out of court. As for the table--well, yes, Gromfin kept it, but with little enthusiasm.

“It wasn’t what we paid for.�

Car cases come in all varieties. One resident left his Porsche with a valet and returned to find the transmission so damaged that the car had to be towed; another left a Mercedes with an attendant who crashed it into a lowly Nissan.

Don Beavers, 51, filed just one of the many cases involving haircuts and hairpieces. Beavers ordered a custom $1,900 wig to cover thinning above the temples. At first he was impressed by the care with which the company crafted it. “They do a mold of your head and everything,� he said.

But he ran into trouble from the moment he shaved his head and glued it on. That first week, on a cruise to Hawaii, while he was bending to put on his socks, in fact, his female companion noticed that the glue job wasn’t quite right in the back.

“She said, ‘Don, you’ve got a crease in your head.’ �

From Bad to Worse

It was downhill from there. Owing partly to his own naturally oily scalp, Beavers said, the wig never seemed to stay in place, and it was losing hair faster than its owner when he sought and won a default judgment. The hairpiece company is now challenging the ruling.

“It’s amazing the type of individuals� that come in, commented Judge Pro Tem Mark Gilbert, one of many attorneys approved by the Beverly Hills Bar Assn. to sit in on the Small Claims bench.

What is most astounding, Gilbert said, is the persistence with which the affluent often fight over relatively meager amounts. He recalled one millionaire who doggedly refused to pay a $134 bill for what he considered a poor repair job on his Jacuzzi. The gentleman would not allow himself to be cheated.

“Based on the guy’s address . . . I’d guess the house had to be worth $3 million or $4 million,� the judge recalled. “But he was willing to spend half a day in court to refute this $134 bill. You’ll get doctors come in, or attorneys, who handle their own claims for a few hundred dollars. You know they’re earning . . . (more money) when they’re being productive in their offices, but it’s all on principle. They’re willing to spend half a day there for principle.�

Morris Sternlight is such a man of principle. Sternlight, 74, lives on a mansion-lined street in a home featuring electronic security gates, a spa and a swimming pool.

Since his retirement, he has become a regular at Small Claims Court. He has filed more than 30 cases against a variety of banks, seeking late interest payments owed him on his municipal bond investments. In one recent judgment he came away with $5--plus $26 in court costs.

More than a year ago, Sternlight became involved in the case of his life. While attempting to maneuver his $57,000, metallic-blue Mercedes through a blocked public driveway, he entered a shouting match with a Beverly Hills meter maid. The meter maid ended up filing an accident report saying Sternlight’s car bumped her city vehicle--a report that, according to Sternlight, quadrupled his insurance premiums.

Sternlight responded by filing a Small Claims suit, insisting that the accident never occurred. It was to no avail. Sternlight lost the case and went away hissing, “This is an outrage!�

He was so enraged at losing the case that he has since written impassioned pleas for justice to state legislators, the State Bar and the U.S. attorney’s office (which referred the case to the FBI). The matter now seems to consume nearly all of Sternlight’s waking hours, and he predicts that a number of Beverly Hills officials will be in jail by the time he is finished.

“I’ve been talking to myself at night--’What should I write, to whom should I write?’ � Sternlight said at his home, looking over a six-inch stack of papers and diagrams explaining his side of the incident. “But everybody I write to has been brainwashed by the Beverly Hills police.�

Few plaintiffs become as involved in their cases as Sternlight. But passions do run high, both in and out of the courtroom. Often the victimized will seek justice at the cost of money, time and even their health.

Doris M. Goins, 64, was forced to cancel a trip to Hong Kong after developing a sizable boil on the ball of one foot. Her gripe came when she supplied a letter from her doctor and still could not get her travel agent to refund her $901 deposit. She waited months, she said, and recovered the money only after filing a Small Claims case.

Takes to Her Bed

In the meantime, Goins said, the haggling caused a flare-up of her rheumatoid arthritis, for the first time in a good seven years. She is now flat on her back in bed--and has been since early July.

“This has aggravated the hell out of me,� she said, blaming the predicament entirely on the travel agent. “If I ever see that little (expletive) again I’m going to slap his face.�

For judges, many disputes are often difficult, if not impossible, to equitably resolve. Judge Charles G. Rubin, the presiding judge at Beverly Hills Municipal Court, pointed out that Small Claims cases touch upon a demanding variety of civil issues, and evidence is sometimes scant.

The court allows both sides to have their say--usually in no more than 20 minutes--and then, except in rare instances, a ruling is handed down.

In some cases, the question comes down to who is lying the least, Judge Gilbert said. Like a first-grader who lost his homework, a litigant will say that a dog ate the evidence. Gilbert remembers one woman who altered all her financial records with “white-out,� then tried to sway the court.

“She must have thought I was an absolute fool,� the judge said. “But it’s very difficult sometimes. How do you know who’s telling the truth? Sometimes you base a decision on what’s most probable.�

For example, one case pitted a landlord against a tenant who often kept his dog locked up in an apartment for days at a time. The landlord insisted that the dog had ruined the carpet with urine stains.

The dog owner staunchly denied it. “He said he had trained his dog to hold it for two or three days,� Gilbert recalled. “He seemed to believe it.�

The landlord prevailed.

Most judges advise litigants to settle before court even starts. Gilbert likens the hearings to a crap shoot.

Dave Smith came away a winner. He was granted an $826 judgment against the posh Beverly Hills Hotel after an evening of dining in the elegant Crystal Ballroom. Smith was chewing one course--either the prime rib, the boiled potatoes or the asparagus tips (he’s not sure which)--when he bit something hard that broke off a tooth. He took in the incisor as evidence and walked out smiling, if only a little.

Judith V. Smith--no relation--was also a winner. She walked into a Beverly Hills boutique and paid $175 for a permanent. Afterward much of her hair fell out.

Theda Romero was a loser. She sought $950 from a stop-smoking clinic she joined in February. The clinic did not stop her smoking, she claimed, but the medication it gave her did cause her dentures not to fit.

“They were rattling just around in my mouth,� she said. “The inside of my mouth was like raw meat. It was the worst experience of my life.�

She is still angry over the result.

Then, of course, there are individuals so unlucky that they wind up in court again and again. Stephen A. Foerster, a 28-year-old engineer, prevailed in one case after he and his date went out for Japanese cuisine. He had planned to propose.

“I was just about to offer her the ring,� Foerster recalled, “and the cook spilled yellow mustard sauce all over both of us. He picks up . . . this bucket of it . . . and he jiggles it and dumps it. It sort of ruined everything.�

Now, it so happens, Foerster may have to go back for seconds. A week after the mustard incident he was out dining again, taking a chance in another of the city’s fanciest restaurants.

“I got an oyster,� he said. “God, that killed me. I had to get my stomach pumped. They’re liable for it. They just had a real bad attitude about it.�

Finally, dogs make up a sizable chunk of Beverly Hills jurisprudence. Monica Mason, 30, a sales and marketing assistant, spent more than a year trying to collect $52 in veterinary bills after her small terrier was attacked one night by a 60-pound poodle. Mason was minding her own business, walking her pet, when the poodle appeared without warning from behind a hedge.

“The jaws just opened up and it grabbed the rear end of my dog,� she remembered. “My dog’s rear end was off the ground in the jaws of this poodle. It was awful. I was just screaming.�

Although the poodle owner agreed to pay the veterinarian bills--there were eight deep tooth wounds--she never did until the case went to Small Claims Court, Mason said.

Another case, also pending, involves a man who believed he was buying a show dog. But, as he scrawled with some spelling difficulty on the claim form, that is a bone of contention: “Dog has one testikle . . .� he wrote tersely. “Tail was cut wrong. Can’t show dog.�