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"Order in the Court"
by Arnold W. Eaves
Published in the Spring 1998 issue of the North Georgia Journal magazine

When Mary Free, Jessie Adams, and Sue Young look up at the gleaming marble eagles and delicately-carved date shield on old Cherokee County Courthouse today, they admire more than their fathers' sculpting skills. This white Georgia marble facade, created in 1927 for the "new" courthouse, quite likely saved the historic structure from the wrecker's ball in recent years. It would have been a shame to destroy a building responsible for so many colorful memories.

The aged courthouse is remembered in many ways, not the least of which were the trials conducted during "Court Week", that twice-yearly festive occasion when residents of the county came to every small-town county seat -- in this case, Canton, Georgia -- to conduct business and enjoy the punishment being meted out to criminals. Invariably, this meant that not only would one enjoy an interesting trail, but possibly the antics of a colorful "detainee" or two in the jail about the courtroom, too.

Longtime Cherokee residents recall that in earlier days, Court Week was an event closely akin to a county fair. In his chapter on the judicial history of the county in Glimpses of Cherokee County, the late Judge Sam T. Burtz said, "The huge courtrooms in the courthouses built in years gone by were for the use of the general public. Big court was a semi-annual affair and everybody came and stayed the week."

Judge Marion T. Pope, Jr., of the Georgia Court of Appeals practiced law and was Superior Court Judge in Cherokee County for many years. In a recent interview, he described how people came from all around to observe the trials and join in the affair. Prior to Court Week every six months or so, Judge Pope would often be stopped on the street or in the barber shop with inquiries of "Hey, Pope! You got any good cases coming up for us to watch?"

It was not unusual for courtroom spectators to fill every seat and overflow to the available space around the walls. They came not only to watch the shenanigans, but also to "judge the lawyers who had done the best job."

Judge Pope says he remembers it was not unusual for his courtroom to witness the skills of a number of luminaries from the legal world over the years, including those of Eugene Talmadge (later governor of Georgia) and his son Herman (also later Governor as well as U.S. Senator).

The trials weren't the only object of excitement either. "I recall that in more than one instance, escapes were attempted right there in the courtroom," Pope smiled. "Once a defendant bolted right from the witness stand, jumped the railing, ran down the stairs, through the basement and out the back door with deputies in hot pursuit. The [escapee] didn't stop running until he reached the Etowah River, into which he jumped and swam across. He was later apprehended at his home."

Having been admitted to the Bar in 1942, Herbert Buffington is the senior member of the Cherokee fraternity of lawyers. He delights in detailing the times when court procedures were not as rigid as today -- and certainly more entertaining.

Mr. Buffington says that once a defendant in a criminal case had given testimony that had contradicted his own defense. When the judge gave the charge to the jury, he instructed them with the admonishment, "if you believe the evidence as presented to you by the State, it is your duty to convict the defendant. And if you believe what the defendant just told you about the evidence, it is also your duty to convict him."

County Solicitor Channing Ruskell recalls an incident in the courtroom related to the room's unusual acoustics. The hard plaster walls caused a substantial echo effect that significantly amplified noises. During one trail, he devised a demonstration of evidence he thought would aid his case, but which, in fact, did not help him at all.

The demonstration called for a gun to be fired into a barrel of sand in the courtroom. Solicitor Ruskell had not tested out this procedure ahead of time so he was surprised also by the outcome. When an officer fired the weapon as directed, the resulting explosion was so loud that it was deafening. The members of the fury were not only severely shocked, but thoroughly irritated. Ruskell recalls the incident today with a chuckle..."[They] were not impressed" he grimaced.

Ruskell also noted with considerable mirth that back as late as the 1960s, the standard procedure for disposing of confiscated illegal spirits was to pour the liquid down the storm drain in front of the courthouse, in order to make a public display of the effectiveness of the legal system. Enterprising ne'er-do-wells and winos, however, were well aware of the site at which the drain emptied out behind the courthouse, and were often present there to be on the receiving end of "justice."

Like some of the other sheriffs' wives, Jessie Adams, spouse of Sheriff Newt Adams, served as cook for the prisoners in Cherokee County. There were not facilities at the courthouse, so Mrs. Adams had to do the cooking in the sheriff's house a block from the courthouse.

Prison "trustees" or "runarounds" as they were called, would come over to the house with wire baskets to pick up the meals. The Adams's pet bulldog always recognized the sound of the rattling of the baskets coming to the kitchen, and stood menacingly at guard in the kitchen during the loading process, just waiting for a false move from one of the prisoners. Needless to say, most of the trustees were very careful on those premises. "They never wasted much time once the meals were ready to go," Mrs. Adams recalls with a smile.

One audacious prisoner from Florida inhaled his first meal while incarcerated as a "guest" of the county. When he learned who had prepared the tasty food, he sent word to the sheriff that he wanted Mrs. Adams' menu for the next day, so that he would make his selections. The sheriff was not amused, and his loud response to this request isn't repeatable.

One of the most interesting stories about the courthouse relates to the jail's location on the fourth floor -- directly over the courtroom. Judge Pope recalls those circumstances as "a bad decision from the very start." During Court Week, the prisoners not only banged on the pipes to disrupt court procedures, but also plugged up the commodes to flood the courtroom below. On a few occasions, they even set fire to mattresses to smoke up the place.

The cells that line the front of the courthouse building look out on the open plaza and the rear of the marble eagles. This led to a popular Cherokee County euphemism for incarceration: A family was not "in jail," but "behind the eagles."

As surprising as it sounds, escapes from the prison above the courthouse were fairly commonplace. For many years, the county had only six deputies so it was not unusual for the officer assigned to jail duty to be sent out on a call, leaving the jail unguarded.

And when the cat was away, the mice did play...Superior Court Chief Judge Frank Mills recalls that one popular method of escape was to tie bed sheets together and then repel down the outside wall. One night, three prisoners were attempting just such an escape when one of the sheets tore, sending the men sprawling to the ground. One of the unfortunate jailbirds broke both his ankles in the fall, but didn't miss a beat trying to convince the capturing officers that he had been "pulled" out of the window while trying to stop the other escapees.

Once, while serving as district attorney, Judge Mills says he was observing his new assistant DA trying a case. The jury box was positioned opposite the windows of the east wall of the courtroom. Judge Mills says he happened to hear a squeaking noise and at the same time, noticed the distracted jury looking out the window. He turned just in time to see a cord with a six-pack of beer being pulled steadily upward toward the overhead jail.

On August 4, 1955, the North Georgia Tribune reported that some runarounds had "...found a passageway through a ceiling trap door which led to the elevator power unit and forced their way through the plastered ceiling to a supply room where 60 cases of (confiscated) canned beer were stored...it wasn't until four or five cases had been consumed that the refreshment stand was discovered and closed." Solicitor Ruskell recalls that court could not be held that Monday because most of the defendants were too drunk to stand trial.

The mid-fifties through the mid-seventies were years of severe decline for the courthouse. According to Judge Pope, little was spent on maintenance or new facilities to keep up with the dramatic growth Cherokee County was experiencing. Hallways were partitioned into offices and existing offices were further divided without regard to the architectural integrity of the building.

In order to hide the court ceiling that had been damaged by years of flooding from the jail, a drop-ceiling was installed which promptly became an eyesore itself from yet another flooding. Instead of repairing and painting the plaster and marble walls, a cheap wood paneling was applied that added to the overall dinginess of the building.

The attractive hardwood floors in the courthouse had been an early victim. They were ruined after only a few months use in 1929, when the janitor at that time, whose previous custodial experience had been at a local textile mill, used burnt motor oil to mop the floors. He simply didn't know any better.

The construction of Interstate 575 through Cherokee County brought explosive growth to the area. By the late 1980s, court had gone from a small town semi-annual event to an almost daily routine. No additional courtroom space was available in the courthouse building so temporary housing was set up in the parking lot to handle the overflow. Increased demands for other services forced the county to rent space in downtown Canton to provide for a population that had grown from 30,059 in 1970 to 90,204 in 1990.

In 1991, county leaders recognized that entirely new facilities were required if the legal system in the county was to continue to function smoothly.; The first thought was to build a new facility near one of the Interstate 575 interchanges away from downtown Canton. This would have meant demolition of the old courthouse.

At this point, Bernese Cagle and Sarah Buffington, along with members of the Cherokee County Historical Society and other civic leaders realized they would have to get strongly involved if the old courthouse was to be saved. Mrs. Cagle recalls that the first battle in saving the courthouse was to convince everyone that the new justice center needed to be built in downtown Canton, not out near an I-575 interchange. The second battle was to make sure adequate monies were appropriated to fund not only a new justice center, but to renovate the old courthouse as well. It was a long battle on both fronts, but the preservationists ultimately were successful.

Today, historic Cherokee County Courthouse which is listed on the National Register of Historic Places, has been completely renovated, including the installation of a sprinkler system in the building, central air conditioning, and handicap access.

Visitors to the structure can see a courtroom and jail as were used in the early years of the 20th century. The building, however, is not completely a museum. The first three levels (basement, first and second floors) hum with the comings and goings of county business. The old courtroom serves as a meeting room for the County Commission.

Because only one stairway leads to the top two floors (3rd and 4th), they cannot be used for offices and regular public access. The 3rd floor formerly housed the jailer's and the jurors' quarters. These have been restored to their original appearance, complete with marble shower stalls and old-style plumbing fixtures.

On the top (4th) floor, one is confronted with a heavy metal door. Today, the door stands open, but in bygone days, it would have been securely locked to hold prisoners. Viewing the area "behind the eagles," one can see the old cells -- now cleaned and painted -- and the spartan metal furniture upon which the prisoners slept, sat and took their meals.

And if one tries really hard, he or she might imagine the shenanigans which once took place in this area when the prisoners of yesteryear were confined, tried and punished at old Cherokee County Courthouse.

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