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Authors: Juan Williams
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dime he and Buster brought into the house, Marshall had a deep need to show his wife, his family, and himself that he had attained some status in the world. The insult he had felt at the University of Maryland Law School’s ban on black students still burned him, and he wanted to show that he was now as good as any white Maryland Law graduate. It was not even a close decision in young Marshall’s mind. He wanted to get out of law libraries, deal with real cases, make money, and be his own man.
Marshall’s initial challenge out of law school was passing the Maryland bar exam. He did it on his first try, signing an oath in which he promised to act “fairly and honorably” as a lawyer and pledged allegiance to Maryland, the United States, and the U.S. Constitution on October 11, 1933.
He was now on his own, but Marshall’s craving for independence had to be balanced with his need to make money. For advice on how to make ends meet, Marshall sought the counsel of the best-known black lawyer in Baltimore, Warner McGuinn.
McGuinn was a small, cocky, Yale Law graduate, who looked close to white and was a former city councilman. Already in his sixties, McGuinnhad recently hired one young black lawyer, W.A.C. Hughes, when Marshall came to see him. But McGuinn could not afford another legal associate and did not even listen to Marshall’s request for a job. Before Marshall could even begin his pitch, McGuinn interrupted him. “Young man, you save your time, you can save my ears. Forget it, I’ve known you since you were born, and I have carefully watched your progress in law school. It’s unbelievably good. And you want to let me have your beautiful, great brain, and I am not going to accept it. You’re going to practice by yourself and get your brains kicked out and then come back to me and we’ll talk.” The senior lawyer did promise Marshall that he would help him set up his office and get some work.
Marshall was not pleased. “And I can remember now I walked down the hall after him, I said, ‘Unreasonable son of a bitch,’ ” Marshall recalled. “But he was right. I lost more cases, whoo-hoo, but we were always very friendly. He was the only one who helped me.”
McGuinn did counsel Marshall on the personalities and politics of judges, prosecutors, and cops. He also encouraged Marshall not to give up, even when money was so short that the novice had to take a part-time job as a clerk in the venereal disease section of the city health clinic.
The Great Depression deepened, and money was tight for whites but almost nonexistent for blacks by 1933. Marshall could afford only a tiny office in downtown Baltimore, on the sixth floor of 4 Redwood Street, the Phoenix Building, which housed most of the city’s black lawyers. In addition to Warner McGuinn and Hughes, there were the law offices of Josiah Henry and Robert McGuinn (Warner’s nephew). Marshall’s office was a single room, dominated by a desk that Warner McGuinn lent him, a black phone, and an old but special rug, donated by his parents from their own living-room floor.
After a few months of sharing a secretary with McGuinn, Marshall got his own assistant, Sue (nicknamed Little Bits) Tilghman. Occasionally McGuinn or one of the older lawyers would hand Marshall a small case. There was not much to share, however. Few black people were willing to trust a black lawyer with their criminal case, divorce, or will. And with the Depression, a paying client was a rarity. Out of his office window Marshall could see bread lines, which had become commonplace in the city. In the fall of 1933 when Marshall opened his office, Baltimore’s unemployment rate was over 20 percent, even higher among blacks. 1 He soon began to have regrets about turning down the offer to study at Harvard. In his first year of practice, Marshall lost $3,500. Clients were soscarce that lunch money became a major concern. To alleviate the problem he would bring a lunch of leftovers to the
Marshall’s initial challenge out of law school was passing the Maryland bar exam. He did it on his first try, signing an oath in which he promised to act “fairly and honorably” as a lawyer and pledged allegiance to Maryland, the United States, and the U.S. Constitution on October 11, 1933.
He was now on his own, but Marshall’s craving for independence had to be balanced with his need to make money. For advice on how to make ends meet, Marshall sought the counsel of the best-known black lawyer in Baltimore, Warner McGuinn.
McGuinn was a small, cocky, Yale Law graduate, who looked close to white and was a former city councilman. Already in his sixties, McGuinnhad recently hired one young black lawyer, W.A.C. Hughes, when Marshall came to see him. But McGuinn could not afford another legal associate and did not even listen to Marshall’s request for a job. Before Marshall could even begin his pitch, McGuinn interrupted him. “Young man, you save your time, you can save my ears. Forget it, I’ve known you since you were born, and I have carefully watched your progress in law school. It’s unbelievably good. And you want to let me have your beautiful, great brain, and I am not going to accept it. You’re going to practice by yourself and get your brains kicked out and then come back to me and we’ll talk.” The senior lawyer did promise Marshall that he would help him set up his office and get some work.
Marshall was not pleased. “And I can remember now I walked down the hall after him, I said, ‘Unreasonable son of a bitch,’ ” Marshall recalled. “But he was right. I lost more cases, whoo-hoo, but we were always very friendly. He was the only one who helped me.”
McGuinn did counsel Marshall on the personalities and politics of judges, prosecutors, and cops. He also encouraged Marshall not to give up, even when money was so short that the novice had to take a part-time job as a clerk in the venereal disease section of the city health clinic.
The Great Depression deepened, and money was tight for whites but almost nonexistent for blacks by 1933. Marshall could afford only a tiny office in downtown Baltimore, on the sixth floor of 4 Redwood Street, the Phoenix Building, which housed most of the city’s black lawyers. In addition to Warner McGuinn and Hughes, there were the law offices of Josiah Henry and Robert McGuinn (Warner’s nephew). Marshall’s office was a single room, dominated by a desk that Warner McGuinn lent him, a black phone, and an old but special rug, donated by his parents from their own living-room floor.
After a few months of sharing a secretary with McGuinn, Marshall got his own assistant, Sue (nicknamed Little Bits) Tilghman. Occasionally McGuinn or one of the older lawyers would hand Marshall a small case. There was not much to share, however. Few black people were willing to trust a black lawyer with their criminal case, divorce, or will. And with the Depression, a paying client was a rarity. Out of his office window Marshall could see bread lines, which had become commonplace in the city. In the fall of 1933 when Marshall opened his office, Baltimore’s unemployment rate was over 20 percent, even higher among blacks. 1 He soon began to have regrets about turning down the offer to study at Harvard. In his first year of practice, Marshall lost $3,500. Clients were soscarce that lunch money became a major concern. To alleviate the problem he would bring a lunch of leftovers to the
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