In 1973, Richard McLellan left his job in the Michigan governor’s office to start a law firm from the ground up.
One week later, he had four clients. Nine years later, Dykema came calling.
Here’s how a small, scrappy policy shop in Lansing built its reputation from nothing to become one of the most respected government practices in the country
Detroit has been called a lot of things over the last hundred years. A boomtown. A battleground. A comeback story.
But even as the town changed and evolved dramatically, Dykema stayed rooted in the Motor City.
1996. Dykema attorney Lou Kasischke is 400 feet from the summit of Mount Everest. As a storm closed in, continuing the climb meant certain death.
What happened next was a decision that would test his character, his resilience, and his judgment.
Lucky for Lou, those were the same principles he spent years sharpening in his practice.
The best client relationships aren’t built in the courtroom. They’re built in the moments nobody’s watching: the late-night calls, the last-minute trips across the world, the makeshift green pocket squares (trust us).
Excellent client service doesn’t just happen. You have to practice it, believe it, and commit to it. For a hundred years, that commitment has been the difference… our difference.
Nobody knew if Dykema’s first DSO Conference would work. 41 people showed up. Zero sponsors. The firm paid every penny.
Twelve years later: 800 dental organizations worldwide, celebrity keynotes, drone shows, and their name on the side of a Dallas convention center.
When Dykema opened its doors in 1926, most of Detroit’s biggest law firms already had their clients and their reputations firmly established.
Dykema was the upstart. The firm that saw potential in the most innovative companies in town, and wanted to grow with them. Our success was their success.
1988. Ron Torbert is a young litigator in Dykema’s Lansing office who spends his Friday afternoons watching the clock before he can head out to officiate high school football games. Thirty-three years later, he stands at midfield, ready to give the coin toss for Super Bowl LVI.
At many firms, the question for women was simple: career or family. Pick one. Dykema made different choices. When associates needed flexibility, the firm created it. When partners faced personal crises, the firm showed up. When life got complicated, the firm didn’t pull back.
In 2015, Dykema combined with Cox Smith, one of the most respected law firms in Texas. Cox Smith had been built the right way, by people who didn’t grow up with lawyers in their families and didn’t forget it. Dykema recognized the feeling immediately.
From carbon paper to artificial intelligence. From the first computer system in the city to not knowing how to pronounce the firm's own name in a new market. The tools have always changed. The firm has always kept up.
2013. Detroit files for the largest municipal bankruptcy in U.S. history. The city was $18 billion in debt. Creditors wanted to be paid. And they had their eye on the Detroit Institute of Arts.
1926. Dykema's first automotive work was repossessing cars. One hundred years later, we're litigating the ones that drive themselves. What happened in between is the story of a law firm and an industry that grew up together — through oil shocks and emissions standards, through product liability explosions and supply chain crises, through the collapse of old models and the rise of new ones.
Before email. Before Zoom. Before cloud storage. Deals got done with midnight FedEx runs, phone calls to well-placed friends, and the occasional game of cards when negotiations stalled.
Appellate pioneers. Circuit Court judges. A U.S. Assistant Secretary of Commerce. Managing partners. Mentors who demanded excellence with red pens, high expectations, and unwavering support. Dykema women have, and continue to, shatter ceilings and open doors for the next generation.
2012. Dykema was still the new kid on the block in Dallas. Few people knew us, and even fewer knew how to pronounce our name. So we threw a series of parties at some of the most iconic—and unusual—locations in Dallas.
Elliott Hall’s father worked the foundry line at Ford’s Highland Park Plant. Every day for 42 years, he put on his overalls, grabbed his lunch bucket, and reported for duty. Years later, his son became Ford’s first Black vice president.
Detroit's Renaissance Center rises on the riverfront—and Dykema rises with it. After nearly three years of planning, we became one of the first tenants of what was then called "Detroit of the future."
When U.S. District Judge Damon Keith ruled against warrantless surveillance, the government sued him personally. Keith called Dykema partner William Gossett. Gossett took the case pro bono and won 9-0 at the Supreme Court.
