Newswise – Juanita Marsh did not go the path expected of a woman born in 1926 into a family of tenants in the small town of Elberton, Georgia.
Marsh was a smart kid and was allowed to skip some of her cotton-picking duties to read books. She graduated first in her class from Centerville High School, which earned her a scholarship to the University of Georgia, where she was a good student, worked in a dining room called Beanery, and learned the battle song – which she sang a lot and her whole Loud for a lifetime.
She became the third female judge in Georgian history and her legal reach expanded when she wrote the first handbook for judges in the City Court and served on the Georgia Judicial Council.
Marsh also founded Anchor Hospital, a substance abuse facility in Atlanta that had a profound impact on the lives of many addicts.
A particularly prominent guest at Anchor was Lyle Prouse, a longtime Northwest Airlines pilot who was the first commercial pilot to be arrested and jailed for flying while drunk. He credits Marsh and his time in Anchor with his recovery. “Juanita’s care, personal attention, and support have been invaluable,” said Prouse.
Your way to the judge
Despite her humble upbringing, her son Charles Bradford “Brad” Marsh is not surprised by the impressive scope of her life’s work. “Mother wouldn’t take no for an answer. And nobody told her no, ”said Brad, a 1981 UGA graduate and attorney in Atlanta. “She was very southern, very polite, but she also understood things. The University of Georgia had given her an education on how the world works. ”
Marsh also had a lifetime share of Moxie. “She was very determined,” said Brad. “I’m sure she noticed her weaknesses along the way, but she never stopped trying.”
Brad said his mother loved her time at university. “Athens was transformative for her. She always said that she wouldn’t be where she was unless she had that experience. “
After graduating with a degree in home economics in 1946, Marsh worked as a home demonstration expert in Statesboro, Georgia, where she met her husband, George Marsh.
When George was in law school, she decided to go too and attended night school at Woodrow Wilson Law School in Atlanta. In 1951 she was admitted to the bar, at that time seldom for a woman. But there weren’t many options for in-laws, so she worked as an elementary school teacher and raised her four children, Brad, Blake, Sherry, and Elliott, and occasionally helped people with divorces or adoptions.
In 1971, Mayor Ralph Presley selected her as a judge on the City Court of College Park. Although she had only practiced as a lawyer on the side, Marsh was respected and very involved in society. Still, she wasn’t an expected choice. “I think he was very forward-thinking,” said Brad. “He said, ‘You studied law, you have to be the judge.’ That didn’t happen in 1970. “
She quickly made the courtroom her own. “Most people only see one district court in their lifetime. And they get their impressions of state courts from what they see here. My court has the dignity of a higher court, ”Marsh said in an article in the Clayton Extra in 1985.
“She handled herself with so much confidence,” said granddaughter Ashley Tyndal, a 2007 UGA graduate who attended Marsh’s courtroom as a child. She remembers her grandmother in full judge’s insignia, who commanded a room full of men. “That was an impressive scene. She was responsible for the whole room. I was impressed by her confidence and her role as a judge. “
Marsh had brought many traffic violations to court, many of them drug abuse. But instead of punishing the defendants, she tried to direct them into treatment programs. She understood that people weren’t just her faults, perhaps because of an experience she’d had at UGA.
As a student in her 40s, she was caught on a Friday night after curfew. And worse, she was wearing blue jeans. “Can you imagine? A girl in blue jeans?” Said Brad with mock horror. But it was actually a big deal back then.
Marsh was put before the board and was to be removed from the school until Dean William Tate stepped in and gave her another chance. “My mother thought he hung the moon. She’d say, ‘Dean Tate saved my life,’ ”Brad said. Marsh saw how a second chance could change someone’s life.
As a judge, Marsh has earned a reputation for being tough but fair. “Trying to be fair, she doesn’t read the court record before putting on her black robe and going to court for fear of being biased by police reports,” Clayton Extra said in 1985.
“She knew that sometimes people do things privately that aren’t authorized,” said Brad. “She would always give someone the benefit of the doubt.”
But Marsh wasn’t a pushover. “She may be soft-hearted in life, but when she gets on that bench, she listens carefully and can be tough,” her husband once said.
“She pronounced punishment,” said Brad. “My high school buddies would say. ‘Your mother did so and so to me.’ And I would say, ‘Well, you probably deserve it.’ “
Marsh’s compassion and willingness to see substance abuse as a problem to be worked on, rather than a character flaw, changed the lives of countless people. “I can’t count the number of times I’ve been to see her and someone said, ‘Judge Marsh, thank you for what you did for my son or my husband.’ They would pull her aside, say thank you, and have a frank, honest conversation, ”Tyndal said. “I knew she was good and did a good job because of those encounters.”
Establish a drug abuse hospital
Marsh decided to start Anchor Hospital partly because of the people she encountered in court, but also because her son Blake had struggled with substance abuse for years.
“When you presented her with a problem, she was trying to find a solution and fix the problem,” said Brad. Though she never gave up on Blake, she couldn’t save what Brad calls “one of the great tragedies of her life and, I believe, the only regret she has ever regretted in her life.”
She has saved countless others through her work at Anchor Hospital. “Mother was there all the time. She would tell her story and basically love her until she recovered, ”Brad said, noting that she did so while maintaining anonymity.
“When she died, so many people came up to me and said, ‘Your mother saved my life. I needed a break and she gave me a chance by allowing me to get help and treatment, ‘”said Brad.
When pilot Lyle Prouse arrived in Anchor, he wasn’t exactly an avid guest. He had hated a previous recovery group experience years ago. “I didn’t just come in and say, ‘Oh man, I’m sure I’m glad I’m here,'” said Prouse, who wrote about his experience in his final approach in his memoir. “I was convinced it was a cult.” But his story was rife and he had hit a public low. “I was hit so hard that I shut up and listened.”
“I might have met her on my first or second day. She came to see me quite often, ”Prouse recalls. “I was pretty devastated and devastated.” Marsh told a shaken Prouse that everything would be fine. “I had to hear that because I couldn’t imagine it and wasn’t so sure whether it would really work.”
It did. Now, sober for over 28 years, Prouse devotes his life to helping others overcome alcoholism. He returned to Northwest Airlines and received a full pardon from then President Bill Clinton in January 2001. Marsh and Prouse remained friends for many years.
Marsh looked like the charming southern woman. “She had a soft, southern, elegant accent that just exuded class,” Prouse recalled. But, as Brad put it, “She could, in parlance, hang out with anyone.”
“In order to be able to travel between worlds – regardless of gender, race or class – certain skills are required. “You need to trust yourself, care about other people, and work to make things happen,” said Abit Massey, President Emeritus of the Georgia Poultry Federation and a 2016 UGA President’s Medal recipient. As the first man elected to the Georgia Women of Achievement board of directors, Massey did a kind of reverse Juanita Marsh. “She looked for ways to help and took advantage of these opportunities.”
Marsh’s hug of all kinds of people dates back to her time at UGA. “She always told me that at the University of Georgia you would meet someone from every small town and hamlet in Georgia. It’s a big place, but she knew people from all over the state and she always felt like this is her window on the world. It really made a huge difference to them, ”said Brad.
Marsh lived on her own terms. “She was a risk taker,” said Brad. “The risk taker in her allowed her to go up to people and say, ‘I need $ 10 million to build an alcohol and drug detox center.'”
“She told me she never considered herself a judge, just a judge,” said Andrea Daniel, president of Athens Technical College, who nominated Marsh for the 2020 Georgia Women of Achievement Award.
“When she got the news in 1972 and asked what she thought about women’s equality, she said, ‘Why should I give up superiority for equality?'” Said Brad. “And that’s it. Their attitude was that I don’t do this to show that I am equal, but because I am human. “
When Marsh was asked by the Atlanta Journal-Constitution in 1991 what its epitaph should be, she said, “Equal justice for all. I tried to treat everyone equally. “
