Henry Pharr III, commercial real estate lawyer: It’s not rock ’n’ roll, but he likes it

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Henry Pharr III is a commercial real estate lawyer, which sounds about as exciting as, well, commercial real estate law.

And with a name that ends with III, On the Level feared for the worst. But as so often happens, Pharr’s book was much more interesting than its cover. Especially when we got to the chapters on his experience in capital murder cases and his rock and roll bands.

Pharr works for Horack Talley, the uptown law firm that specializes in real estate law of every stripe, and OtL had a lot of fun about a year ago talking with John Maheras, one of Pharr’s colleagues.

Both Pharr and Maheras will moderate panels at the International Council of Shopping Centers Idea Exchange meeting on March 23 at the Charlotte Convention Center, and OtL was intrigued – or maybe baffled is a better word – by the title of Pharr’s discussion group, but more about that later.

The 48-year-old, two-time graduate of the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill took us by the hand and guided us through the labyrinthine underbelly of franchisee law, and regaled us with stories that, fortunately, had nothing to do with real estate law at all.

You do what your buddy Maheras does? Pretty much the same thing, commercial real estate law. John does more with acquisitions and things coming out of the ground, retrofits. I’m more on the litigation and dispute end of it – landlord and tenant issues.

Ooo. Litigation, dispute and issues. These are a few of my favorite things. Ha.

Seriously, I’m a tenant and I have issues and disputes with my landlord. Will you litigate for me? Ha. I represent some tenants, but it is mostly landlords. And it is 95 percent commercial, not residential: office buildings, shopping centers. Nonpayment of rent; somebody has fallen behind in rent and they’re trying to get topside again. Or there’s been a fire in one space and it has affected the tenants next door. Property rights. Liens.

Sounds like you mediate more than litigate. That’s interesting, we’ve just been talking about that. I think that, post 2008, no one is going to rush to the courthouse anymore. It’s more about what can we do with our experience and skill set to resolve matters; how do we get them to work it out – preferably in an informal setting, or, if need be, with a mediator. Instead of filing a complaint right out of the box, get a mediator and see if we can work it out. The costs of going to court are just prohibitive these days.

I know what the title of the panel you’re moderating is, but I want to hear you say it. Wait a minute; I have to pull it up. Franchisee Growth and Expansion: How to land the right franchisee for your center while avoiding legal lease issues. Would you like that translated to English?

Ha. I’m trying to pull together a panel, to have folks with a broad spectrum of perspectives on franchisee issues, people who have a McDonald’s or a Panera (Bread). You own a shopping center and you’re working with Joe Smith, with seven Paneras, or Bob Jones, who has eight McDonald’s, but there is also the franchisor and his issues. If you play in this sandbox, it’s a triangular relationship, the franchisee, the franchisor and the landlord. It gets complicated.

Like a love triangle, but with “special sauce”? Ha. Let’s say you have a franchisee in your center, and he goes bankrupt. What do you do? What does the franchisor do? Take over the restaurant? Bring in another franchisee? What are lease obligations and issues at play? What is the best outcome in a situation?

Did you dream of doing this as a kid? It’s a kind of circuitous route. My father was a real estate lawyer, and he had me call out land descriptions to him and look at maps for him, so I did have some exposure as a kid. But when I went to Chapel Hill, I majored in poli-sci and picked up an interest in music, so I stayed for two years after graduation to play in a band. My father thought I’d spend my life in the back of a van, traveling from one engagement to the next. But I. . .

Hold it, hold it. You were in a rock band in college and for two years afterward? What did you play? What was the name of the band? Bass, but I also learned how to play guitar. We called ourselves the Popes.

The Popes? Like in the Vatican. We were a college band and had some regional success, but never got a record contract. So after two years of that, I. . .

Hold it again. You have any good stories from the road? That you can tell, I mean? We went to Columbia (S.C.) one time to play a place, and the guy said, “I know you came down here to play, but would mind letting these young kids get up there and play?” It turned out to be Hootie and Blowfish. And I ran into Michael Stipe once.

He stayed for a weekend at a house I shared with a girlfriend outside Savannah, Ga., in 1983, just before REM went global with “Murmur.” Long story. He and his friend were doing all this weird stuff down by the marsh – I thought they were on acid the entire weekend. I couldn’t wait for them to leave. Yes, he is very “unusual.”

Anyway, you left the band. . . . . . .and I went to UNC law school, where I got interested in, of all things, capital murder cases. I worked with a public appellate defender, representing death row inmates in Raleigh, appealing their sentences. I spent a summer doing that. All my clients were in one place: Central Prison. I was intrigued by it. Like domestic law, it is very intriguing, very engaging. And very demanding, exhausting. I began to take some commercial law classes, and my interest was piqued, and I got into a special commercial law program. I have enormous respect for people, for district attorneys and public defenders both, who do capital cases. It’s a tough job. But I decided that if I went into that, that would be all I would ever do. In commercial law, there was a lot I could do, a lot more opportunity to grow and change. When I got my first job in Charlotte, at Blair, Conaway, Bograd & Martin, I was working with my mentor, Ben Martin, and he gave me a commercial real estate case. He said, “Sometimes the best way to learn something is by just jumping off the dock. ” I just really got interested in it. I was there for five years and then came on board at Horack Talley in 1998.

I guess I should know better than to ask about your stance on the death penalty. Yeah, my political views I keep to myself. It’s about the skill sets and experience we bring to the table for our clients. We have a neat mix of folks here, a lot of different points of view.

You ever miss performing? Actually, when I came to Charlotte, some friends and I formed another band. We were together for 15 years, white-collar guys. We played the Double Door a lot, places like that.

What was this one called? Major Nelson. You know, from “I Dream of Jeannie”? One of the guitar players came up with that. We tried to keep it up as long as we could, but we got older, got married, our kids got older. Finally, I decided to keep playing but to give up the band.

How about capital cases? You miss that? I went through one of those execution situations with a client, and it’s a pretty traumatic experience. I came home and my girlfriend, who became my wife, said, “You haven’t said anything for 18 hours.” It’s a showstopper, a major event. That just cemented it for me. I do keep up with people involved in capital cases, and I’m very interested in it. But to do it, you’ve got to be completely committed to it, dedicate your life to it.

And you’ve got a wife and family to tend to. I’m divorced, actually, but I have a daughter who is 13 and a son, 9. And I’m getting married again in July, and my fiancee has two daughters, 14 and soon-to-be 13. It’s pretty interesting. When they start arguing about something and I step in, they start wincing when they see me go into lawyer mode: “Let’s look at the evidence here, what happened, the ramifications for everyone.” And they just all roll their eyes.