PROFILES: MUELLER RETIRES SOON, BUT HER PLACE IN JUDICIAL HISTORY REMAINS

Judge Marybelle Mueller's office in the Common Pleas Courthouse offers a stirring vista of downtown Cape Girardeau and the Mississippi River. But she has little time to admire the view.

Doling out justice in the 32nd Judicial Circuit, which covers Cape Girardeau, Bollinger and Perry counties, consumes her attentions. As associate circuit court judge, her caseload includes criminal, civil, adult abuse, divorces and the never-ending probate.

The petite Mueller has earned a tough-as-nails reputation on the bench. She prides herself on consistency and common sense. Her short-cropped gray hair and conservative dress reflect a no-nonsense, confident attitude about the courts and life in general.

But at age 67, she has grown tired of the pace. After 27 years on the bench, Mueller decided not to seek re-election. Her term ends Dec. 31.

She will leave behind a footnote in Missouri judicial history.

Appointed by Gov. Phil Donnelly to an interim position as a county magistrate judge in 1955, she was elected as probate judge in 1956. That election earned her the distinction as only the second woman elected to the bench in Missouri.

AN EDUCATION INHERITANCE

She grew up in Albuquerque, N.M., the youngest of four Dailey daughters. She was named after her two grandmothers: Mary and Belle.

Their father, a ceramic engineer, told the girls their inheritance wouldn't be money, but a college education.

An older sister went to law school. Another graduated from medical school. A third used her degree in her work as a professional secretary.

Mueller, too, opted for the law.

"I love to read. I love history. I love figuring things out -- making the facts and the law coincide."

Eventually, her mother would follow in her footsteps -- graduating from law school at age 60. She practiced three years as a lawyer for the legal aid in Albuquerque before her death.

But when young Mueller opted for the law, there was no such school in New Mexico. So she enrolled at the University of Missouri Law School. She was one of only three women out of more than 150 students.

"We were all products of World War II when women were just beginning to move out into the work force," she says.

While women were allowed in law school, they weren't exactly welcomed. She found herself the target of repeated discrimination and ridicule. Many told her in words and actions that law school was no place for a woman.

But the pressure just made Mueller more determined to succeed.

"I got better, faster and smarter than any of them."

Her efforts earned her the grudging respect from students and professors, and the admiration of Paul A. Mueller Jr., a law student from one of the older families in Jackson.

She returned to Albuquerque and practiced for a year with a small firm. The hours were spent on trial work, mostly criminal. Her first case dealt with a marijuana sale.

When Mueller began her career, the profession was much different.

"There weren't as many attorneys and everyone knew everyone, even in Albuquerque. It was a very honorable profession. The pay wasn't that good. It was the kind of profession that a man's word meant something. There were no public defenders. The young lawyers were appointed to cases for nothing. It was good experience."

A CHANCE TO JUDGE

She married Paul Mueller in June 1951 and moved to Jackson. It was decided she would raise the family, and not practice law with her husband.

"I loved my husband. Sometimes you have to sacrifice a lot to be with the person you want to be with."

Their first child was born in 1953. A second soon followed.

She enjoyed raising her children, but her love of the law endured.

The Cape County magistrate judge died, and no one seemed eager to filled the post. A change in the law required the new judge be a lawyer.

Mueller had never really thought about being a judge, but saw it as a chance to get back into the profession.

"Frankly no one wanted it," she remembers with a smile. "I didn't know any better. I thought I could take on the world. The bar asked me if I'd take the job. I kept saying anybody could change diapers, but not anybody could be a judge. My husband was very supportive. He enjoyed the extra money."

She made about $3,600 a year, which enabled them to buy their first car and a TV set.

As magistrate, she kept busy with traffic cases, misdemeanors and preliminary hearings on felonies. It was the first court in a three-tiered system. The workload initially required a three-day week -- two days for traffic and one for civil.

She wasn't only one of the first women judges in Missouri, she was one of the youngest at age 25.

If a woman lawyer was an oddity in 1955, a woman judge was even more so.

"Some attorneys weren't any nicer to me as a judge, but I had a little more authority. I was a young girl and some thought I didn't know what I was doing. I proved them wrong. Let me say that the men in the profession have always been good to me. I have found them kind and honorable."

Some of the clients weren't so generous -- a few told her that she should be home raising children.

But Mueller didn't care. "I don't argue unless I have to. You just prove it."

After a year on the bench, Mueller knew she wanted to stay. The probate judgeship opened up and she ran for the post and was elected in 1956.

JUGGLING WORK AND HOME

She learned early on the trials and tribulations of juggling home and work.

The Muellers welcomed three more children into the world -- the last two were twins. She would serve on the bench right up to the birth of the children, and then return a week later.

"I had to if I wanted the job."

Mueller also learned early on to leave the job at the office so she could focus on her children, husband and home.

"I worked 18-hour days -- eight at the office and 10 at home. My husband was a good man, but he did not do housework. I was lucky to have good household help."

One of the lawyers that would come before her court was her husband.

"No one thought anything about it back then. I always said I was never nicer to him. He said maybe I wasn't quite as nice," she smiles at the memory of her husband. He died of lung cancer in March 1986 at age 64.

"I always tried to treat everyone the same."

BREAKING NEW GROUND

But the pressures began to wear on Mueller.

Five children under the age of 9, a full-time job and various social obligations left her constantly tired. When the twins turned 2, she temporarily retired from the bench.

"I felt so tired that I needed to stop," she says.

Mueller concentrated on family concerns until 1973.

It was then she was approached about working as a clerk for Judge James Hunt, the county probate judge. She felt it was a good way to ease back into the profession.

It wasn't long until she was bit by the law bug again. Judge Hunt was getting ready to retire, and Mueller decided to run for his position. She defeated an opponent, and was re-elected each time since.

Mueller knew her election to the bench was unusual. She met few women lawyers much less judges in the early days.

But it wasn't until she read a Washington University Law Quarterly article published in the fall of 1986 that Mueller realized she was only the second woman elected to the bench in Missouri. The first was a magistrate judge in Buchanan County in 1954.

In the 1960s, women began to push for a recognized place in law and medical schools. That effort really took off into the 1980s. Today, she says, about one-third to one-half of all law school students are women.

She's proud of her ground-breaking efforts, and tells young female lawyers working their way up the ranks "not to let it fall apart."

Mueller tells young lawyers of both sexes to be well prepared and not depend on luck alone.

Across the nation, women judges are no longer an oddity. There is one on the Missouri Supreme Court. But Mueller still remains one of the few women judges in Southeast Missouri.

REMEMBERING DEJAN

Mueller has always enjoyed probate and civil cases much more than the criminal work. Court reform in 1979 expanded the kinds of cases she heard.

She handles all the probate cases in the county, and all civil cases with claims of less than $25,000. She hears child support and refusal of Breathalyzer cases. Mueller also handles divorces, criminal and civil cases on assignment.

For eight years, she served as the county's juvenile judge.

It was during that time that she handled one of the county's most notorious child-abuse cases -- a story that garnered international attention.

In 1982, firefighters stumbled over a frail and unconscious 7-year-old in the basement of a burning rented house. The boy, Dejan Kocevski, had apparently been padlocked in the basement for more than four months by his mother and her boyfriend. The two were on a trip to Illinois when the fire broke out.

The boy hung onto life, and slowly recovered. He suffered from severe smoke inhalation and malnutrition, weighing only 32 pounds. As juvenile judge, Mueller shielded the boy from the national media, which descended on the town.

The boy was eventually returned to his father and grandparents in West Germany; the mother was deported to Canada, avoiding a four-year prison sentence.

"I was a fairly new juvenile judge, but I knew the importance of keeping juvenile matters confidential. The media wanted everything," she says, frowning.

Mueller made sure the boy was physically and mentally prepared before leaving the country with his father.

A photograph of Mueller and young Dejan on the courthouse steps still hangs on her office wall.

"It was a tragic case, but as juvenile judge I saw a lot of sad cases. It always made me feel lucky for the opportunities I had and the chances I got."

The juvenile court demonstrated the fact that too many parents don't listen to their children, and too many children don't listen to their parents, she says.

"Too many societal trends end up in court. Over the years, I could see the values change. There was a lack of respect for our heritage, other people and their lives. Church was no longer important to some people."

She has tried her best to dispense the justice with some sound advice.

"They used to say, `there goes lecture 325.' My children say that now. I tried to tell the juveniles in my court they had to take responsibility for their actions. I'm not sure I was always so successful."

On the criminal side, Mueller found better luck.

"A lot of people were only in my courtroom one time. That's not always publicized."

IN THE COURTROOM

In the courtroom, lawyers and clients always know where she stands. She feels consistency on the bench is vital.

And she isn't one to shout in the courtroom.

"That's impolite. No good judge needs to yell," she says matter-of-factly.

Hers is a generation that lived through the Great Depression and World War II. For the most part, she says, they're people who get the job done without a lot of complaining.

"I get tired of people who whine."

She loved the job despite the inconveniences of police officers knocking on her door in the middle of the night, or missed family holidays when an immediate order was required.

"I remember putting the food on the table for Christmas and Thanksgiving when the calls would come. Those are the kinds of memories that stick with you through the years."

She was never afraid in the courtroom although sometimes suspects became unhinged during the preliminary hearings. One time, a kidnapping and robbery suspect became particularly vocal in court and was reprimanded. A few days later he escaped.

"I wasn't scared, I was just careful."

The suspect was apprehended a short time later.

Most people are on their best behavior in the courtroom, wearing their Sunday best.

"Most are dressed up like they're getting married. I always wondered what they looked like otherwise."

The most gratifying case for Mueller is an adoption.

"It's the most fun thing we do -- make a family. It's probably the only time everybody's happy. We still do adoptions, but not as many. There aren't as many babies out there."

Marriages can also be fun -- she has done several hundred. But Mueller has performed thousands of divorces. Some were quite unpleasant.

READY TO RETIRE

Mueller passed along the same inheritance of education to her five children. All five graduated from college.

Her oldest daughter, Paulette, followed in her parents' footsteps and became a lawyer in Dallas. Another daughter, Janet, is a veterinarian in Tucson, Ariz. Daughter Mary Harriet Talbut works at Famous Barr. The twins are Barbara and Robert. She works as a critical-care nurse at St. Francis Medical Center, and he is a Navy orthopedic surgeon, stationed in Spain.

Mueller delights in her three grandchildren: Paulette has two girls, ages 2 and 3, and Mary Harriet has a little boy who will soon be 1. To the little ones, she is simply grandmama.

Her decision to retire was partly personal and partly professional. Missouri requires mandatory retirement for judges at 70. At age 67, she wouldn't be able to fill out an entire four-year term.

"I've worked in front of 90-year-old judges. It's terrible. I'm a believer in term limitations, even though I've had many terms. I don't think judges own these jobs. Too many think they do."

But Mueller also wants to spend more time with her children and grandchildren.

Mueller says she probably would have retired earlier if her husband was still alive.

"I love my yard and garden and church. I want to read a book and not go to sleep." She is actively involved in the preservation of Old McKendree Chapel. She would also like more time to travel. In recent years, she's taken trips to visit her son in Spain and to tour Australia.

She sees retirement as just another stage of her life. "As the youngest of four, I learned early on to be adaptable."

Mueller may be retiring, but you can still call her judge.

"I earned that title. You can still call me judge even if it's honorary."

You would expect nothing less from the first woman judge in Southeast Missouri, who broke new ground with confidence, ease and grace.