Newly appointed judge draws humble philosophy from strained roots

Tim Greenholtz talks in his office Wednesday, Sept. 23, 2015. Greenholtz has been appointed as the 11th Judicial District Criminal Court judge.
Tim Greenholtz talks in his office Wednesday, Sept. 23, 2015. Greenholtz has been appointed as the 11th Judicial District Criminal Court judge.

In his 15th-floor office in downtown Chattanooga, here is what freshly appointed Hamilton County Criminal Court Judge Tom Greenholtz might tell you about - political buttons.

You know, political buttons - those patriotic pucks printed with catchy slogans that get handed out like fortune cookies during presidential elections.

"Let me tell you a story about the '56 election here in just a minute," Greenholtz, 42, said Wednesday morning.

Did you know that President Harry Truman never spent money making political buttons?

That's why they're extremely valuable, he says.

How about the fact that political buttons got bigger when presidential elections moved to national TV? Candidates pinned them to their lapels because they wanted voters to recognize them.

Greenholtz knows all of this.

But the father, community leader and longtime lawyer, whose swearing-in Friday filled the three-month gap left by Judge Rebecca Stern's retirement, knows a lot of things.

"In terms of intelligence, ability and character, I'd rank him in the top five lawyers of everyone I've ever known," said former Tennessee Supreme Court Justice William M. Barker, who hired Greenholtz as a law clerk from 1999 to 2002.

Even that's unusual, Barker said of serving three years as a law clerk. Normally, it's a one-year gig.

But therein lies the beauty of Greenholtz: there's little "usual" about him.

In his office, a massive poster looms with every line from William Shakespeare's masterpiece, "Hamlet," bunched onto the page. Surrounding that frame are 13 glass cases containing hundreds of political buttons. And behind his desk is a bust of James Madison, an influential forefather he fondly calls "Jimmy."

He believes "the criminal court judge has an opportunity to make a difference in the community that a lot of others don't."

He aspires, through a mentorship program, to introduce more people to courtroom proceedings and transform the daunting system into a positive experience.

He plans to make Hamilton County Drug Court, which meets every Monday, "a huge priority."

He served as a board member for the Chambliss Center for Children; the Orange Grove Center, which provides education opportunities to those with intellectual disabilities; and the Community Foundation of Greater Chattanooga.

What hasn't this man done?

Chris Clem, a Chattanooga lawyer who used to serve on judge nomination committees, said Greenholtz had a dazzling backstory.

"Some of the others may have had more criminal court experience," Clem said, "but he had an impressive resume. If you look at his background, he's overcome a lot."

After a two-year battle with lung cancer, Greenholtz's father, a worker's compensation lawyer in Georgia, died when the judge was 15.

The grief that followed tore a painful hole in his relationship with his mother, Greenholtz said. Small things, like a plate on the wrong level of the dishwasher, or a political disagreement, would ignite shouting matches. Shipped away to boarding school in Georgia, Greenholtz returned to Chattanooga in 1991, planning to attend Furman University that fall.

Instead, he was kicked out of the house.

"No money, no car, no job," Greenholtz said. He spent the first night in a nearby treehouse.

After a World War II veteran and his wife welcomed him into their home, Greenholtz registered for classes at the University of Tennessee at Chattanooga, applied for financial aid and found housing.

This immense generosity, Greenholtz said, informs his stern but empathetic philosophy.

"If you provide people an opportunity for themselves, they can do it," he said. "And they do."

In his office, Greenholtz points to a small monkey holding a mirror. It was a gift from a secretary, he said.

But it's also a reminder, to look past the glass.

Contact Zack Peterson at zpeterson@timesfreepress.com or 423-757-6347 for tips and story ideas. Follow @zackpeterson918.

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