Autumn Witt Boyd still remembers the soft crackle of the speakers in Judge Curtis Collier’s chambers – the way they let his clerks follow everything happening in the courtroom down the hall. When the proceedings wrapped and the sounds from the bench faded, she and the other clerks would gather in the library, knowing he was on his way back.
Moments later, Collier would step inside, robe draped over his arm, and turn the quiet space into a classroom. As he hung up the robe, he talked through what he’d just seen – what an attorney had done especially well, what argument hadn’t quite landed or how a point could have been made more effectively. During trials and jury selection in particular, he broke down the craft, teaching them how to approach a jury and how to read one.
Boyd says those moments, repeated over two years, became an invaluable education for a young attorney.
“I learned an enormous amount about effective advocacy – and what really irritates judges – from these generous conversations.”
Boyd, who now practices intellectual property and business law in Chattanooga, says these moments didn’t feel like formal instruction. They were invitations – an uncommon openness from a federal judge who already had a distinguished reputation. For a young attorney trying to grasp not only the law but the culture of federal practice, these impromptu debriefings became a master class.
“I’m 100% the lawyer I am today because of starting my career in Judge Collier’s chambers,” she says. “I count myself incredibly lucky to have had a backstage seat to witness the tremendous professionalism and care he takes with his work.”
Across three decades on the federal bench, Collier has shaped the careers of dozens of lawyers – not only through the opinions he’s written or the cases he’s presided over, but through the way he’s invested in people. His former clerks have gone on to lead litigation departments, argue complex appeals, guide local government, build national practices, teach the next generation of lawyers and even take the federal bench themselves.
They describe him as meticulous but approachable, demanding yet generous and principled but humble. And they agree on one thing: Collier’s most enduring contribution is the community of lawyers he’s formed through mentorship.
Leading with presence
For Cameron Hill, a Chattanooga litigator with Baker Donelson, the clerkship came at the beginning of Collier’s judgeship. He was Collier’s first law clerk – something he refers to with gratitude.
“I tell people I worked with Judge Collier, not for him,” Hill says. “He was very approachable. He wanted to communicate and help people learn. He explained situations and offered his perspective without ever sounding like he was passing judgment.”
Hill now practices complex litigation and appellate matters in Chattanooga, and those early lessons still echo through his work.
“Rarely does a month pass that I don’t ask myself, ‘I wonder what Judge Collier would think about this,’” he says. “’How would he view the position we’re taking?’”
Some lessons came in the form of simple, enduring rules of conduct. One has stayed with Hill for three decades: Don’t take the bait.
“When someone is confrontational or aggressive, your first reaction might be to match that energy,” Hill says. “Judge Collier taught me that you don’t have to respond in kind. Think about your response. Sometimes the best response is no response.”
Hill uses this principle not only in his legal work but in life.
“It’s come in handy in both,” he laughs.
Hill has also spent more than 15 years mentoring younger lawyers inside his firm – first as professional development shareholder, then as the new litigator adviser. In those roles, he’s drawn directly from Collier’s example.
“It would be presumptuous to assume I’ve been able to perpetuate what he gave to me,” Hill says. “But I like to think I’ve shared with others some of the lessons and talents he passed on to me.”
And even after 30 years, Hill still receives periodic newsletters from Collier – updates on former clerks, staff and interns; news of births, marriages, awards and new jobs.
“He certainly doesn’t have to do it,” Hill says. “The fact that he chooses to says everything.”
The art of the courtroom
Celeste Creswell can still recall the nerves she felt walking into her clerkship interview – an interview that remains vivid three decades later. Collier had just been appointed to the bench, and Creswell was a law student eager for the opportunity. He asked her a single question that struck her immediately: How would she prioritize several matters, including a death penalty appeal?
“It was an exercise in being thoughtful about how the court needs to prioritize its work so everything can get done,” she says.
That interview foreshadowed the rhythm of her two years in Collier’s chambers. Now an equity partner at Kabat Chapman & Ozmer, Creswell practices across Tennessee and Georgia, handling complex commercial, employment and appellate matters nationwide. And the habits Collier taught her still shape her work.
“I learned I needed to review a case and know everything about it – from the facts to the law,” Creswell says. “And when I went into the judge’s office to talk with him, I needed to be ready to explain the case in a couple of minutes and answer whatever questions he has.”
She now trains associates the same way.
Like Boyd, Creswell recalls the daily ritual of gathering in the library after Collier returned from the bench. The clerks would listen as he shared what an attorney did well, where arguments could have been improved and how jurors seemed to respond.
“He talked about how to approach a jury, how to interact with a jury and what the jury seemed to be picking up on,” she says. “I really benefited from spending two years with a great trial lawyer turned fantastic judge.”
Creswell’s own mentoring reached beyond the firm. For years she mentored a Howard High School student through a federal bar program. The relationship continued long after the student graduated, and Creswell remains proud of her accomplishments.
“She’s going to be 30 next year,” Creswell says. “She even came to my wedding.”
What stands out most, though, is the culture Collier created.
“He really made chambers into a family,” she says. “It felt like a family when we worked there, and it still feels like a family now.”
A judge who builds judges
Judge Waverly Crenshaw of the Middle District of Tennessee first encountered Collier from the other side of the courtroom. As a practicing lawyer, Crenshaw spent more than a year trying a case before him – long enough to understand how Collier ran his courtroom and why attorneys respected him.
“He’s very much no nonsense,” Crenshaw says. “His rulings were clear, and so were his expectations of counsel. Lawyers needed to be prepared and arrive on time.”
But Crenshaw also observed something more subtle: Collier’s ability to enforce order without inhibiting advocacy.
“He didn’t do it in a way that prevented me from representing my client,” Crenshaw says. “He simply set the guardrails. They were very clear, and I liked that because I knew what the court expected.”
Years later, when Crenshaw was nominated to the federal bench, Collier reached out and offered whatever help he could during the transition, even inviting him to spend a day observing chambers operations in both his office and Judge Sheryl Lipman’s.
“It was invaluable in helping me figure out what kind of judge I wanted to be and how I wanted to run my chambers.”
Crenshaw describes Collier as “the ultimate example of a good judge,” marked by integrity, diligence and fairness.
“He truly exemplifies a judge who listens to all the evidence and applies the law to that evidence without preconceived notions about who should win.”
A mentor for life
For Julian Nunally, Collier’s influence began long before he ever typed a memo or filed a brief. Collier and Nunally’s father have been close friends for decades, so Nunally grew up seeing the judge not in a courtroom but in living rooms and at family gatherings.
“I was always impressed with how eloquent he was, how composed he was and how well read he was,” Nunally says. “And I can say without a doubt that the reason I became an attorney was because I wanted to be Judge Collier.”
Nunally spent the summer before Harvard Law School clerking in Collier’s chambers, and he now works as a labor and employment attorney at Dorsey & Whitney in Minneapolis, representing employers in collective-bargaining disputes, wage-and-hour cases and major workplace-compliance matters.
“He wholeheartedly puts your interests and desires and passions first,” Nunally says. “Then he allows his experience to advise you in wise ways.”
Collier also warned him about the realities of large-firm practice.
“He said, ‘When you go to a big law firm, they pay you a lot, but they draw it from you in blood.’ And boy, was he not lying.”
Perhaps the most powerful lesson was Collier’s advice about balance.
“The law can be a jealous mistress,” Nunally recalls. “He says it can consume your life, take you away from your family and ruin your marriage.”
Nunally now guards against that fate.
“Family is very important to me,” he says. “And even though Judge Collier is at the top of the legal field, he understands that the law isn’t the most important thing in life.”
Nunally also learned by watching how Collier treated everyone around him, including law clerks, assistants, marshals and restaurant servers.
“Everyone is human,” he says. “Everyone deserves the full respect of humanity.”
Teaching by living
Beyond the lessons, Collier’s former clerks talk about the example he set – an example defined by consistency.
Boyd speaks about civility not as a tactic but as a core professional value she absorbed from him.
“It can be very tempting to point out errors or make fun of unpersuasive arguments,” she says. “I learned very quickly that judges do not appreciate this kind of behavior.”
She built that ethos into her own firm. One of her core values is “Use honey, not a hammer,” a philosophy drawn directly from Collier’s approach.
She also remembers how he invested in his clerks as people. He invited them to local bar events. He checked in on their families. He encouraged them to explore Chattanooga and engage with the community. And he officiated several clerks’ weddings – including hers.
Every other year, he hosts reunions, inviting clerks and their families for activities and tours of the federal courthouse. Boyd’s children have taken turns sitting on his bench and banging the gavel while he shares stories about the building’s history.
Creswell, too, felt the depth of his relational leadership. She recalls the way he kept track of clerks’ accomplishments and life events long after they left chambers.
“He makes sure we all feel a sense of connection and pride that we’re part of something as special as what he has built,” she says.
Hill sees the same spirit in Collier’s ongoing communication with former staff, no matter how briefly they worked in chambers.
“Even someone who worked only during a summer is still part of that family,” he says.
A brief history
Collier’s journey began in Marianna, Arkansas, where he grew up one of eight children on a small farm. He attended public schools and earned his degree with distinction from Tennessee State University, where he earned an Air Force commission through ROTC. After graduating from Duke University School of Law, he served on active duty in the Air Force as a JAG officer before transitioning to the reserves.
He then spent years as a federal prosecutor – first in Louisiana, then in Tennessee – trying major public corruption cases, violent crime matters and high-profile fraud prosecutions. In 1995, he was nominated by President Bill Clinton and confirmed by the Senate to the Eastern District of Tennessee, becoming the first judge to fill that district’s fifth District Court judgeship.
He served as chief judge beginning in 2005, entered senior status in 2014 and continues to handle an active docket today. Over the years, he’s presided over complex civil litigation, multi-district matters, nationally watched criminal trials and numerous cases that helped shape the legal landscape of the district.
His résumé includes teaching across the country, chairing important committees, serving on boards and receiving major professional awards. Yet his former clerks say these achievements, impressive as they are, capture only a fraction of who he is.
A living legacy
For Boyd, Hill, Creswell, Crenshaw, Nunally and scores of others, Collier’s mentorship continues to guide how they practice law, how they mentor others and how they lead their own families and communities. His influence is not confined to his chambers or his district; it stretches across Tennessee and throughout the legal profession.
It grows with every clerk he trains, every attorney he advises and every judge he helps shape.
Collier’s legacy is written not only in federal reporters but in the careers, choices and lives of the people he mentored – people who still follow his guidance and strive to meet the standard he consistently set.
And in that way, his influence will endure long after any case file has closed.