In 1979, a young attorney named Michael H. Minton successfully argued that a housewife was worth more than $40,000 a year. The public snorted and the press made fun, but the ramifications proved enormous. When the dust finally settled, the 33-year-old Chicago lawyer had catapulted matrimonial law into an entirely new arena.
Enter Michael Minton and a wealthy couple called the Gallaghers. It was 1978, one year after passage of the Illinois Marriage and Dissolution of Marriage Act. Like most other states, Illinois had finally decided to come out of the dark ages and overhaul its matrimonial laws.
But with alimony, what ex-wives usually got was the shaft. Past cases had demonstrated that those who needed alimony most–older women with no job skills–found it the least reliable. When an ex-husband retired, moved away, or died, the alimony ground to a halt. A legal battle with a nonpaying ex-husband could be prohibitively costly.
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Minton’s major argument centered on the replacement cost approach–a valuation method that determined what it would cost if someone else were hired to perform each one of Mrs. Gallagher’s tasks. The total money paid all these replacements would then equal the value of her contributions to the household. Minton drew up a chart of 24 activities ranging from food buyer, nurse, and waitress to bookkeeper, dietitian, and child psychologist and based the earnings on prevailing hourly wages. When he was through, the annual figure had reached $40,288.04. (The same calculations today produce a sum of $48,698.)
The Gallagher trial proved rancorous and protracted, and after it was over, legal actions dragged it out another year. But ultimately, the court did admit that the services of a homemaker had economic value. While it declined to place a price tag on them, the judge in the case awarded Mrs. Gallagher $40,000 a year in permanent maintenance, in addition to her share of the proceeds of the house, stock in her husband’s company, 65 percent of the stock held in a profit-sharing plan, and part of his pension.
Despite all the press and fanfare many of his cases have attracted, Minton is neither cocky nor flamboyant. There are no pinkie rings or pointy shoes. His words are quietly measured and his demeanor so low-key he seems more a therapist than a modern-day King Solomon. But the ministerial air belies a quiet rage beneath.
