Last Wednesday, Weil, Gotshal & Manges announced it would pursue a wind down. Within hours, the news was everywhere. The New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, Bloomberg Law, Reuters and the legal trades all had it, and people posted all sorts of stories and comments to LinkedIn and other social services. It spread quickly.
I have no inside knowledge of what was said in Weil’s conference rooms, but what I can read is the public record, as a crisis communicator who has helped professional firms and businesses through what feels like the worst weeks of their lives. From that point of view, the Weil story is a case study. Here is what I would take from it.
The timeline did the damage.
Start with the sequence. In September, Weil said it was not engaged in merger discussions with any firm. A few weeks later, it was reportedly negotiating with one. A few weeks later, those talks collapsed. Then the executive partner’s chosen successor, elected in March to take over in January, stepped away, partners were leaving and restructuring advisers were reportedly engaged. A spokesperson told the Journal that no decision had been made to dissolve the firm, and shortly after, the firm announced that its management committee was recommending exactly that.
Any one of those moments is survivable, but together, they created a pattern in which each statement from the firm was overtaken by events.
Once your statements start getting outrun by reality, you are no longer the source; you’re the subject.
Succession on paper is not succession in practice.
It would be unfair to say Weil had no succession plan. The public reporting says it had a named successor, chosen by the partners months earlier. What it didn’t have was a plan for if that succession fails.
When a firm is falling apart, the instinct at the top is to shut down communication. I understand that. There are real legal reasons to be careful about what a firm says when it is weighing its options. But careful is not the same as absent.
What the articles suggest is that, for a stretch of days, the loudest voices about Weil’s future were not coming directly from the firm. Practice leaders were reportedly telling associates to start looking. Anonymous sources were briefing reporters. The firm’s own account was, at best, a trickle of short denials.
If you won’t tell your own people what is happening, a competitor’s recruiter, an anonymous source, or a reporter on deadline will do it for you, and none of them have your interests at heart.
The press moves fast.
One thing people forget to acount for is how quickly a story like this moves. It did not take a week for the major outlets to pile on. It took hours. Once one credible outlet reports that a firm has hired restructuring counsel, everyone else is calling for comment.
That is why preparation sometimes matters more than polish. You won’t draft a good statement under pressure. You’ll draft a defensive one, or a vague one. Don’t do that, get something ready to say.
Prepare before you need it:
· A holding statement that is true, brief, and no deny anything you might later have to walk back.
· A short list of designated people who are authorized to speak, and nobody else does.
· A call tree for partners, staff and key clients that can be activated quickly.
· A point person who answers press inquiries, takes calls, and logs every one.
Say “no” only if you mean “never”
A flat denial is the most dangerous sentence in crisis communications, because it has a shelf life.
“We are not in merger talks” is true for as long as it is true. The day it stops being true, the statement becomes a problem, and the reporter who ran it will remember. The same goes for “no decision has been made.” That may well have been accurate when it was said. But a statement that is accurate on Tuesday and obsolete on Thursday teaches the press they can’t trust you.
Decline to comment on speculation. Say the firm is always evaluating its options and will share news when there is something to share. Speak to what you control: your commitment to clients, your focus on current matters.
Communicating to Clients
Reading the coverage of Weil, I kept thinking about the company in the middle of a restructuring, the client with a dispute set for trial.
The firm’s statement said it will continue serving clients during the wind-down, which is an important message. Did the Firm reach out to clients personally, quickly, and with specifics, or did many of them learn the news from a headline?
Clients can forgive bad news, but they definitely don’t like being surprised by it. A phone call from their relationship partner, before the story breaks, is worth more than any press release. It should explain what is happening, what it means for their matter, who will be handling it, what happens to their files and fees, and who they can call with questions.
Remember the people who keep the firm afloat
A wind-down is also a story about associates, paralegals, assistants, IT staff, receptionists, and who now need new jobs.
How a firm treats those people in its final weeks gets noticed, and shapes how the profession remembers you. If you can, share the facts as early as the law and prudence allow, and tell them what support will be available.
Control the tone and take accountability
Most of what makes a crisis worse is within your control. You can’t stop stories from running, but you can decide how you sound when they do.
A statement like “careful review of strategic alternatives” may be legally precise, but to a reader it can sound like a firm talking around the point. Sometimes the moment calls for precision. Plain language builds trust more than polished language. Say what happened, what happens next and what you don’t know yet.
Sequence is also important. Staff before press. Clients before the public. Regulators and lenders where required. And at the end of the day, accountability matters most. Leaders who step forward, name the hard facts and take responsibility tend to be treated more kindly. That means being visible and being human.
What this means for other Firms
If you think it could never happen to your firm, I would gently suggest that Weil’s own people likely felt the same way. This was a firm with strong revenue, a storied history and, according to the Journal, no debt. Whatever your size, you can do a few things this now that would be helpful in any situation:
1. Stress-test your succession story. Write down what you would say if your chosen successor withdrew tomorrow.
2. Build a crisis communications file. Keep a file of holding statements, contact lists, spokespeople, and decisionmakers, all in one place, all current.
3. Practice. Run an extensive tabletop exercise with your leadership team. It will feel awkward. It will also expose three problems you did not know you had.
4. Audit your denials. Look at what your firm has said publicly about mergers, departures, and finances. Would any of it be embarrassing if circumstances changed?
5. Decide who your first call is. Clients, partners and staff should hear it from you before they read it.
None of this guarantees a good outcome. Some situations cannot be saved, and a good communications plan will not hold together a firm whose partners have lost faith in it.
The Weil story is still unfolding, and I expect we will learn more in the weeks ahead. In the meantime, those of us who advise professional firms should understand, the time to build a communications plan is when everything is fine.
Elizabeth Lampert is a Crisis Communication professional and Media Strategist at Elizabeth Lampert PR.