Fairy Tales Can Come True: How a Driven Woman Changed Her Destiny [NOOK Book]

Overview

The riveting memoir of Rikki Klieman--an enormously successful defence attorney and television personality--as she discovers the possibilities of love in middle age with Los Angeles' new police commissioner, Bill Bratton.

Thirty-five-year-old Rikki was named one of America's top five female trial attorneys by Time magazine for her work in criminal defence, one of the toughest branches of law for a woman to enter. She defended clients ranging from accused drug smugglers to media ...

See more details below
Fairy Tales Can Come True: How a Driven Woman Changed Her Destiny

Available on NOOK devices and apps  
  • NOOK Devices
  • Samsung Galaxy Tab 4 NOOK
  • NOOK HD/HD+ Tablet
  • NOOK
  • NOOK Color
  • NOOK Tablet
  • Tablet/Phone
  • NOOK for Windows 8 Tablet
  • NOOK for iOS
  • NOOK for Android
  • NOOK Kids for iPad
  • PC/Mac
  • NOOK for Windows 8
  • NOOK for PC
  • NOOK for Mac
  • NOOK for Web

Want a NOOK? Explore Now

NOOK Book (eBook)
$3.99
BN.com price

Overview

The riveting memoir of Rikki Klieman--an enormously successful defence attorney and television personality--as she discovers the possibilities of love in middle age with Los Angeles' new police commissioner, Bill Bratton.

Thirty-five-year-old Rikki was named one of America's top five female trial attorneys by Time magazine for her work in criminal defence, one of the toughest branches of law for a woman to enter. She defended clients ranging from accused drug smugglers to media moguls to well-meaning Christian Scientists Ginger and David Twitchell, whose beliefs were put on trial after the death of their child. She waged a war of nerves with Boston police and the FBI during negotiations for the return of fugitive sixties radical Katherine Ann Power.

As Rikki moved from success to success, however, the frenetic lifestyle of a defence attorney began to damage her health and happiness. She suffered from exhaustion, chronic back pain, and two failed marriages, but considered these afflictions to be part of "the price of the prize." After several decades as a practicing attorney, she joined Court TV, where she gained national prominence covering the O.J. Simpson trial and she went on to host Court TV's daily show Both Sides.

Now, at midlife, this warrior with a woman's heart has finally achieved, in her loving marriage to LAPD chief Bill Bratton, the balance many seek but few find. Her dramatic story proves that fairy tales can come true and that great love and great success can go hand in hand.

Read More Show Less

Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly
In this solid memoir, Klieman, the tough, hardworking, fast-talking trial attorney and Court TV anchor, describes how she relentlessly prepared for high-profile cases, yet wasn't above wearing pretty dresses in court to soothe petulant judges. Inappropriately titled (there's little magic in Klieman's descriptions of 20-hour workdays and the chronic tension that found her routinely vomiting on Sunday nights before another week of work at the intense Boston law firm Choate, Hall), Klieman's tale isn't exactly one of a poor girl being rescued by a handsome prince. Klieman was smart enough to mix her own skills with savvy. She knew how to network, whether schmoozing with politicians or closing down the bars with fellow lawyers and cops after a day in court. Interestingly, Klieman trained as an actress before going into law, and her descriptions of the theatrics involved in trials (including her plea bargain for FBI fugitive Katherine Ann Power) are the book's strength. In 1999, Klieman married her third husband, Bill Bratton, who is now Los Angeles chief of police. The book ends as the East Coast-based Klieman follows Bratton west as he assumes his new post. "I was faced with... moving my life to another coast without a clue as to what I was going to do, with no security except the love of my husband," she writes. "How daring. What a trial. How very postfeminist." Not to worry. It appears the first thing she did is write an honest book that should appeal to women trying to have it all. Color photos not seen by PW. (On sale May 6) Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information.
Read More Show Less

Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780061742699
  • Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
  • Publication date: 10/13/2009
  • Sold by: HARPERCOLLINS
  • Format: eBook
  • Pages: 400
  • File size: 608 KB

Meet the Author

Rikki Klieman is an anchor at Court TV. A practicing attorney for twenty-eight years, she is a member of the adjunct faculty at Columbia Law School. She lives with her husband, LAPD chief Bill Bratton, in New York and Los Angeles.

Peter Knobler has written best-selling books with James Carville and Mary Matalin, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Governor Ann Richards, NYPD Commissioner Bill Bratton, and Sumner Redstone, among others. Peter is the former editor of Crawdaddy magazine. He lives with his wife and son in New York City.

Read More Show Less

Read an Excerpt

Fairy Tales Can Come True

How a Driven Woman Changed Her Destiny
By Rikki Klieman and Peter Knobler

Regan Books

ISBN: 0060524014


Chapter One


Miss Remarkable

My parents called me "Miss Remarkable" even before I was born.

Jeannette Wiener and Ben Klieman met in 1926 when they were both sixteen years old. My father's parents had brought him to the United States from the Ukraine when he was two; my mother was born in America to a father who had migrated from the same general area and a mother who insisted, since she was born in the United States, that she was a "Yankee." They married young and lived the immigrant life. My father was in the garment business; he bought Hanes hosiery, Wrangler jeans-American goods-from manufacturers and sold them to retailers. He was a middleman in the schmatte trade, trying to make a living. My mother was a housewife. In her younger days she worked for Fannie Mae Candies. She had a wonderful sense of color and texture, and found her decorating flair, I'm told, when she created the company's displays and windows.

My parents adored each other. "Jeanne K," as my mother was known, was charismatic and full of style. And in the Chicago neighborhood where they lived, it was widely known that Ben and Jeanne were passionately in love.

But they couldn't have children. They tried and tried but could not conceive. In a culture where parents slaved and sacrificed so that their children could have a better life, Ben and Jeanne were denied that reason to live.

At the age of thirty-two my father was drafted into the infantry in World War II. A Jewish boy in the infantry. He saw serious action in the Philippines and New Guinea, where he was under fire on the beaches and in the jungle; each day he survived was a miracle. And with his life constantly in danger, he wrote love letters to his wife, which she kept forever.

When Ben returned home from the war, he and Jeanne again tried to build a family. No success. After trying for seventeen years, they gave up hope. But if they couldn't conceive a child of their own, they also couldn't conceive of not having a child. World War II had just ended, and there were thousands of children in desperate need of loving parents, so Ben and Jeanne considered adoption. And as often happens when couples think about welcoming a child into their lives, they must have relaxed. My mother got pregnant. She was thirty-seven years old. Family lore has it that they had an argument one morning, and when my father came home to apologize he took my mother to a hotel for a passionate reunion, where, as a joke, they registered as Mr. and Mrs. John Smith. I was conceived that night. The story is probably apocryphal, but it's sweet nevertheless.

The extended family was ecstatic. Family was vital, particularly after millions of Jews had been wiped off the earth during the war. Every Jewish child was a cause for celebration. A distant cousin wrote to Ben and Jeanne, "After all these years, this is a miracle child who will do something remarkable." They took that to heart, and even before I was born I became known as Miss Remarkable. I was truly the answer to my parents' prayers.

From the time I was born my mother told me I could be anything I wanted to be. I could grow up to be president of the United States, she said. All I had to do was work for it. I believed her, and as Miss Remarkable, I had a strong desire to be a perfect child. So if my mother asked me to do something, I was going to make sure I did it perfectly.

Until I was four my family lived in an apartment above a Mexican variety store on the North Side of Chicago. My closest friends were the two sons of the owner and my two male cousins. My cousin Gerry was four months younger, and we were raised like twins; his brother, Bobby, who was a few years older, ran us ragged.

One day, when I was about three years old, my father was at work and my mother was determined to find a toy western army fort to give to Bobby for Christmas. (Our family was quite ecumenical. My mother's only sister, Doris, married an Italian, and my mother's brother converted to become a Baha'i. Because I was exposed to so many different religions, I was taught to treat people equally no matter what they believed.) My mother could not find a babysitter, but she didn't plan to be gone for long. She plunked me on the couch, clicked on the little Philco TV, left some milk and cookies on the coffee table in front of me, and gave me a couple of toys to play with. "I'm going to the store. I have to find a present for Bobby," she said. "I'll be back in a little while. I want you to sit here until I come home."

The couch was a burnt orange color, and its nubby fabric felt itchy on my legs. I played with the toys, watched the television, ate the milk and cookies. I didn't move from that couch. An hour passed. I had to go to the bathroom, but I stayed where I was. My mommy had told me to stay there, and I was the perfect child.

My mother swept in several hours later. I heard the key turn in the lock of the door, but I didn't get up to greet her. I wanted her to see that I was still on the couch. She took off her coat and gave me a big hug.

"You stayed here all day?"

"Yes, I did." I beamed through my discomfort.

"I'm so sorry I was late," she apologized.

"Can I go to the bathroom now?"

"Oh, my God."

My mother was horrified, but I was proud ...

(Continues...)



Excerpted from Fairy Tales Can Come True by Rikki Klieman and Peter Knobler
Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

Read More Show Less

Table of Contents

Preface xi
1. "Miss Remarkable" 1
2. Sorority Rush 16
3. Girls Don't Go To Law School 29
4. Mentors and Men 48
5. "I Can Do This" 72
6. My Life in Court 93
7. A Woman at the Bar 115
8. Theater of the Courtroom ... for the Defense 135
9. The Price of the Prize, the Perils of Being Perfect 162
10. Uncivil Actions 181
11. My Friend Becomes My Savior 199
12. Zealots 216
13. The Fugitive 245
14. Brill's Content 285
15. A Woman's Right to Choose: Career or Love? 305
16. Love is a Many-Splendored Thing 329
17. My House, My House, My House, My Job, My Job, My Job 343
18. On the Job 357
19. Turnaround 371
Acknowledgments 383
Photograph Captions 385
Read More Show Less

First Chapter

Fairy Tales Can Come True
How a Driven Woman Changed Her Destiny

Chapter One

Miss Remarkable

My parents called me "Miss Remarkable" even before I was born.

Jeannette Wiener and Ben Klieman met in 1926 when they were both sixteen years old. My father's parents had brought him to the United States from the Ukraine when he was two; my mother was born in America to a father who had migrated from the same general area and a mother who insisted, since she was born in the United States, that she was a "Yankee." They married young and lived the immigrant life. My father was in the garment business; he bought Hanes hosiery, Wrangler jeans -- American goods -- from manufacturers and sold them to retailers. He was a middleman in the schmatte trade, trying to make a living. My mother was a housewife. In her younger days she worked for Fannie Mae Candies. She had a wonderful sense of color and texture, and found her decorating flair, I'm told, when she created the company's displays and windows.

My parents adored each other. "Jeanne K," as my mother was known, was charismatic and full of style. And in the Chicago neighborhood where they lived, it was widely known that Ben and Jeanne were passionately in love.

But they couldn't have children. They tried and tried but could not conceive. In a culture where parents slaved and sacrificed so that their children could have a better life, Ben and Jeanne were denied that reason to live.

At the age of thirty-two my father was drafted into the infantry in World War II. A Jewish boy in the infantry. He saw serious action in the Philippines and New Guinea, where he was under fire on the beaches and in the jungle; each day he survived was a miracle. And with his life constantly in danger, he wrote love letters to his wife, which she kept forever.

When Ben returned home from the war, he and Jeanne again tried to build a family. No success. After trying for seventeen years, they gave up hope. But if they couldn't conceive a child of their own, they also couldn't conceive of not having a child. World War II had just ended, and there were thousands of children in desperate need of loving parents, so Ben and Jeanne considered adoption. And as often happens when couples think about welcoming a child into their lives, they must have relaxed. My mother got pregnant. She was thirty-seven years old. Family lore has it that they had an argument one morning, and when my father came home to apologize he took my mother to a hotel for a passionate reunion, where, as a joke, they registered as Mr. and Mrs. John Smith. I was conceived that night. The story is probably apocryphal, but it's sweet nevertheless.

The extended family was ecstatic. Family was vital, particularly after millions of Jews had been wiped off the earth during the war. Every Jewish child was a cause for celebration. A distant cousin wrote to Ben and Jeanne, "After all these years, this is a miracle child who will do something remarkable." They took that to heart, and even before I was born I became known as Miss Remarkable. I was truly the answer to my parents' prayers.

From the time I was born my mother told me I could be anything I wanted to be. I could grow up to be president of the United States, she said. All I had to do was work for it. I believed her, and as Miss Remarkable, I had a strong desire to be a perfect child. So if my mother asked me to do something, I was going to make sure I did it perfectly.

Until I was four my family lived in an apartment above a Mexican variety store on the North Side of Chicago. My closest friends were the two sons of the owner and my two male cousins. My cousin Gerry was four months younger, and we were raised like twins; his brother, Bobby, who was a few years older, ran us ragged.

One day, when I was about three years old, my father was at work and my mother was determined to find a toy western army fort to give to Bobby for Christmas. (Our family was quite ecumenical. My mother's only sister, Doris, married an Italian, and my mother's brother converted to become a Baha'i. Because I was exposed to so many different religions, I was taught to treat people equally no matter what they believed.) My mother could not find a babysitter, but she didn't plan to be gone for long. She plunked me on the couch, clicked on the little Philco TV, left some milk and cookies on the coffee table in front of me, and gave me a couple of toys to play with. "I'm going to the store. I have to find a present for Bobby," she said. "I'll be back in a little while. I want you to sit here until I come home."

The couch was a burnt orange color, and its nubby fabric felt itchy on my legs. I played with the toys, watched the television, ate the milk and cookies. I didn't move from that couch. An hour passed. I had to go to the bathroom, but I stayed where I was. My mommy had told me to stay there, and I was the perfect child.

My mother swept in several hours later. I heard the key turn in the lock of the door, but I didn't get up to greet her. I wanted her to see that I was still on the couch. She took off her coat and gave me a big hug.

"You stayed here all day?"

"Yes, I did." I beamed through my discomfort.

"I'm so sorry I was late," she apologized.

"Can I go to the bathroom now?"

"Oh, my God."

My mother was horrified, but I was proud ...

Fairy Tales Can Come True
How a Driven Woman Changed Her Destiny
. Copyright © by Rikki Klieman. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.
Read More Show Less

Customer Reviews

Be the first to write a review
( 0 )
Rating Distribution

5 Star

(0)

4 Star

(0)

3 Star

(0)

2 Star

(0)

1 Star

(0)

Your Rating:

Your Name: Create a Pen Name or

Barnes & Noble.com Review Rules

Our reader reviews allow you to share your comments on titles you liked, or didn't, with others. By submitting an online review, you are representing to Barnes & Noble.com that all information contained in your review is original and accurate in all respects, and that the submission of such content by you and the posting of such content by Barnes & Noble.com does not and will not violate the rights of any third party. Please follow the rules below to help ensure that your review can be posted.

Reviews by Our Customers Under the Age of 13

We highly value and respect everyone's opinion concerning the titles we offer. However, we cannot allow persons under the age of 13 to have accounts at BN.com or to post customer reviews. Please see our Terms of Use for more details.

What to exclude from your review:

Please do not write about reviews, commentary, or information posted on the product page. If you see any errors in the information on the product page, please send us an email.

Reviews should not contain any of the following:

  • - HTML tags, profanity, obscenities, vulgarities, or comments that defame anyone
  • - Time-sensitive information such as tour dates, signings, lectures, etc.
  • - Single-word reviews. Other people will read your review to discover why you liked or didn't like the title. Be descriptive.
  • - Comments focusing on the author or that may ruin the ending for others
  • - Phone numbers, addresses, URLs
  • - Pricing and availability information or alternative ordering information
  • - Advertisements or commercial solicitation

Reminder:

  • - By submitting a review, you grant to Barnes & Noble.com and its sublicensees the royalty-free, perpetual, irrevocable right and license to use the review in accordance with the Barnes & Noble.com Terms of Use.
  • - Barnes & Noble.com reserves the right not to post any review -- particularly those that do not follow the terms and conditions of these Rules. Barnes & Noble.com also reserves the right to remove any review at any time without notice.
  • - See Terms of Use for other conditions and disclaimers.
Search for Products You'd Like to Recommend

Recommend other products that relate to your review. Just search for them below and share!

Create a Pen Name

Your Pen Name is your unique identity on BN.com. It will appear on the reviews you write and other website activities. Your Pen Name cannot be edited, changed or deleted once submitted.

 
Your Pen Name can be any combination of alphanumeric characters (plus - and _), and must be at least two characters long.

Continue Anonymously

    If you find inappropriate content, please report it to Barnes & Noble
    Why is this product inappropriate?
    Comments (optional)