NEW YORK — As a nationally known civil rights lawyer, Randolph McLaughlin built a career out of helping the little guy.
His newest mission has him fighting for the littlest guys of all.
For the past four months, McLaughlin has headed Hale House, the famed Harlem home for abandoned toddlers founded 35 years ago by the late Clara "Mother" Hale.
His ascension comes at a critical time for the charity, still struggling to rebuild years after an embezzlement scandal involving a co-founder. McLaughlin, 51, is leaving a thriving Bronx practice with the hopes of restoring the institution's reputation and financial health.
Admittedly, his current role isn't as glamorous as taking on the Ku Klux Klan in Tennessee under the tutelage of his mentor, the late civil rights lawyer William Kunstler, or waging other landmark social justice battles.
In a sense, he said, he's worked his way down to the biggest challenge of his life.
"I spent a lot of my career fighting injustice, fighting against something or someone who's done wrong by the people of the community," said McLaughlin, a Pace University professor who lives in Dobbs Ferry with his wife, fellow lawyer Debra Cohen, and their four children. "Now I'm fighting for something. I'm trying to build an institution."
McLaughlin's reputation as an advocate doesn't easily mesh with the low-key deal-maker he has to be to rebuild the nonprofit, some former colleagues said.
"I knew him as a fiery, young, aggressive civil rights lawyer. Now he's a mellower, older, civil libertarian," said Ron Kuby, who worked with McLaughlin decades ago at Kunstler's Center for Constitutional Rights. "It's hard for me to imagine that fierce, intense, brilliant young man in his present capacity."
"This is the best thing that ever happened to him," said Sister Felicitas Russell of White Plains, who worked with McLaughlin for 12 years at Pace. "This job has brought out his tender side, his compassion."
McLaughlin began his career in 1978, fighting discrimination throughout the South; he successfully sued the Ku Klux Klan in Chattanooga, Tenn., for shooting five elderly black women after a cross burning in 1982.
In the late 1980s, he won several voting-rights cases in New Rochelle and Hempstead, N.Y., which led to the creation and preservation of majority-minority districts and the election of minority candidates. In the late 1990s, he helped homeowners in New Rochelle stop Ikea from razing homes to build a store.
McLaughlin came to Hale House in the middle of a firestorm. Former executive director and co-founder Lorraine Hale of Scarsdale and her husband, Jesse DeVore, were convicted in 2002 of stealing about $800,000 in charity funds.
Hale House was devastated. Donations dried up. Millions in surpluses became millions in deficits, and the charity lost $3.7 million in 2003.
McLaughlin was asked by a new board of directors to be Hale House's general counsel. After his predecessor, Lawrence Davenport, left earlier this year, McLaughlin was named interim director and joined the search for a permanent replacement.
The search didn't take long.
"The passion Randy demonstrated was second to none," said board member Melvin Washington, chief operating officer of Human Rights First, an international organization.
McLaughlin has since worked to rebuild public trust.
Hale House, which owns brownstones and apartment buildings in Manhattan, recently signed a $3 million, five-year deal to house homeless families. A preschool learning center will open in coming weeks, and the charity will host several major events to boost fund raising.
Donations have begun to creep back up. The response rate for Hale House's September direct-mail campaign reached 8 percent, up from 3 percent last year, said Annie Murphy, director of program development.
"So many doors have opened up for us in the past nine months," Murphy said.
McLaughlin wants to push open more doors for the children of Hale House. His passion for them is evident whether he is hugging and kissing one after another as he makes his way up the brownstone's stairs, or teaching them to play Senegalese Jembe drums before lunchtime.
These, he said, are the little guys who need him the most.
"I asked myself, 'Was this the right place for me?' " McLaughlin said. "I've been a champion for the underprivileged and the under-served for 25 years. It's time for me to be a champion for these children."
