Peter Dawson: He's Blind But He's Opened Others' Eyes

Peter Dawson knew that as a blind man going into law, with its heavy requirement for reading, he would have frustrating days.

And he does.

But when the woman who has read aloud to him for 13 years suggests he try an easier profession - such as brain surgery - she's only half kidding. She wouldn't bet money that he wouldn't or couldn't do it.

Lillian Lipman has watched Dawson grow from a boy struggling with his sudden blindness to a man she greatly admires. He doesn't have wings, she said, but she has seen him soar.

``He will pursue something until there's nothing left to pursue,'' said Lipman, who calls Dawson the most considerate man she's ever met. ``He'll trace down details that other people didn't bother with. Consequently, he has found answers that have changed laws for the betterment of people.''

Sighted lawyers have an advantage in that they can skim through written material until they come to the segment they need to read in detail. Dawson must hear every word, which takes more time. He also is uncommonly thorough, which takes even more time.

When Lane Powell Spears Lubersky (then Lane Powell Moss & Miller) took a gamble and hired him out of the University of Washington's law school, it sometimes took Dawson seven days to do the work a sighted lawyer could do in five.

He did it, using high-tech scanners, word synthesizers, computer data bases and people such as Lipman, who serve as personal readers.

And he added a dimension to the firm. He picked up details about clients that other lawyers missed, said Jim Stoetzer, a partner, because his senses other than sight are heightened.

But Dawson needed to become more efficient, and so he became more specialized, discovering a particular knack for personal injury liability cases, which gave him more client contact, another of his strengths.

Last February, he started a solo practice. He still wonders from month to month whether he'll make it, but few people associated with him have doubts.

Dawson, son of a doctor and a nurse, did not follow a lifelong dream to become a lawyer. A week before his high-school graduation, he lost his sight in a dirt-bike accident while celebrating with other Mercer Island seniors. He had athletic scholarships waiting for him and had been accepted by the U.S. Navy flying program.

``Everything was there for the taking and the carpet was pulled out,'' said Dawson, 31.

Though that summer he began the first of some 20 eye and facial operations that are still ongoing, and he was determined to take his place at the UW that fall.

But he was ashamed of the white cane. He didn't know about technological aids. He found himself dependent on other people and he hated it.

``The stereotypes of blindness were so negative that I just didn't want to have anything to do with it,'' said Dawson. ``All I could picture was people with tin cups selling pencils on the corner.''

The State Department of Services for the Blind coaxed him into coming to Olympia for a year to learn how to live independently.

``It was the lowest point of my life,'' he said.

But while there he met people struggling with other health issues and he began to appreciate that he was still a strapping youth. He made friends. He regained confidence. As he prepared to re-enter the university, one of his Olympia teachers painstakingly carved a relief map of the 1,618-acre campus, which Dawson memorized.

Dawson did better every quarter and learned to rely on his intelligence, where formerly he relied on athletic prowess.

Not that he hasn't continued to enjoy his physical life. One of his five brothers skis with him, telling him through a headset what's coming up. ``Tree on your left.'' ``Great-looking girl on your right.'' Still Dawson has fallen into his share of ravines.

When his former associate Stoetzer followed him on the company climb of Mount Rainier, Stoetzer concluded Dawson had the will to do almost anything.

That wasn't the common belief when Dawson decided to enter law school after graduating from the UW with distinction in history. He was told he would be eaten alive. He was told he would never keep up with the book work.

Lipman, who by that time had been reading to Peter as a volunteer for four years, almost punched one naysayer in the nose.

Lipman is now past retirement age but still takes the ferry and the bus from Bainbridge Island at least twice a week to read for Dawson. They are close enough that she feels free to size up his girlfriends. He appreciates her tenacity. She appreciates his sense of humor and patience.

``I've seen him perturbed, but never angry,'' she said. ``He has obviously accepted whatever has happened to him with good grace.''

While Dawson recalls undergraduate school fondly, law school was painful. He sent books to an association in the East that read them onto tapes. But law books are huge and easily outdated and Dawson was limited in how many books he could send and how often he could get them updated.

It took him an extra year, but he made it. He passed the bar examination on the second try, after logistical adjustments were made to accommodate his disability.

He worked at the attorney general's office while in school and could have kept on with the work, which he liked. But he chose to go into private practice, a more difficult path because the company can't charge customers more even though it might take Dawson longer to complete written research.

Stoetzer remembers that his law firm was impressed that Dawson didn't promise more than he felt he could deliver. With technology catching up, one thing Dawson could promise was that he could do his own research.

In his office now in the Westin Building, Dawson sits surrounded by machines. He has two tape players for dictating letters. He has a scanner that can read legal documents or mail and download the information onto his personal word processor.

The information then comes to him by voice synthesizer. Five years ago, he listened to the same monotone voice for 10 and 11 hours at a sitting until he thought he'd go crazy. Now there're a variety of livelier voices with handles such as Huge Harry, and Whispering Wendy.

Dawson can access data bases, like Westlaw, that have every new case from Hong Kong to London on line within 24 hours of the judgment.

Lipman is impressed that Dawson goes to plays and films and comes back to tell about the nuances. There's not much he's missed in his travels, either (he has ventured three times to Eastern and Western Europe); travel companion Per Danielsson says his optimism and spirit touched people's lives wherever they went. That, and his sense of humor, make him a valuable asset to the Community Services for the Blind and Partially Sighted.

Next year Dawson will become the first blind president of the board in the agency's 25-year history.

June Mansfield, executive director, says Dawson is so open about his blindness that he makes people feel comfortable asking questions and dispels misunderstanding.

In the beginning, blindness was like living in a closet, Dawson said. His world was only as wide as his arms could reach. But, as the years went by, his sense of hearing and touch became more sensitive and slowly the world expanded.

``You become more aware of the wind and the sun and the moisture in the air and the sounds associated with different birds,'' said Dawson. ``You grab at whatever you can to help you take in the world in a different way.''

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