A Legacy of Love

Each morning, in the quiet moments before footsteps and chatter fill the halls of Adele H. Stamp Student Union, Marsha Guenzler-Stevens hand-writes a card. 

Pulling open a drawer of the sturdy wood desk that once belonged to the center’s namesake, the University of Maryland’s first dean of women, Guenzler-Stevens selects one from her stack. In flowing cursive, she might wish a former Terp student leader a happy birthday, offer condolences to a colleague or tell a mentee on the other side of the country that she’s thinking of her. 

That personal touch has earned the admiration and respect of thousands of Terps throughout Guenzler-Stevens' 44 years on campus. As the director of the student union, the beating heart of UMD, she oversees more than 600 employes and student employees at the Stamp and Memorial Chapel, yet her door is open to all.

“There’s just one word: love. She exudes that in everything she does,” said Robert Infantino, associate dean of the College of Mathematical, Computer, and Natural Sciences, who has known Guenzler-Stevens for more than 30 years. 

She’s mentored countless student leaders, some of whom have gone on to become health care CEOs, entertainment moguls and higher ed administrators themselves. She’s reshaped campus—literally!—with the creation of the Garden of Reflection and Remembrance, the revamped Student Involvement Suite and more. She’s walked a delicate line between championing student needs and representing the administration in times of crises, earning the respect of both groups. 

Now, as she prepares to retire on Aug. 1, Guenzler-Stevens and nearly a dozen former students and colleagues reflect on her time at Maryland and the legacy she’ll leave behind. 

When Guenzler-Stevens first arrived in 1982 as assistant director of campus activities, students still lined up outside Reckord Armory to register for classes, and when she needed a typewriter, she had to borrow one from administrative staff. 

“To connect with people in the community, you had to get up and walk across campus, or you had to call them,” she said. “It was incredibly relational.”

A major part of her role was overseeing Greek life, though at 25, she was barely older than the fraternity and sorority members; her previous work experience was a brief stint as an admissions counselor for her alma mater, Illinois Wesleyan University, and she’d always lived in the Midwest, unfamiliar with the less-trusting East Coast attitudes she encountered. 

“We were her first students, poor thing,” said Cathy Barham Campbell ’84, M.A. ’91, who served as Panhellenic Association president.

The hours were long; Guenzler-Stevens stayed late at least three nights a week to attend student meetings. She navigated challenges like a fraternity house catching fire and the migration of rush data from paper to computers, and even had to collect rent checks in person. For her efforts, she and her boss were called “Gunsleeze and Jokesteen” in one of the student papers. She took it in stride, recalled her first boss, former Assistant Vice President for Student Affairs Jim Osteen.

“We took great pride in having such ugly names,” he said, recalling Guenzler-Stevens’ great sense of humor and her joking about it with him later. 

While learning the nuts and bolts of the university took time, her ability to recognize and uplift student talent was evident from the start. 

“There’s so many of us she inspired,” said Campbell. When she was too nervous to speak in front of 1,800 people during her first address as president, Guenzler-Stevens told her: “Even if you flub it, what are the top five things you want them to remember? Write those down, have fun, and look at them like they’re your aunts and cousins.” 

“I used that advice through my whole corporate career, speaking in front of tens of thousands of people,” said Campbell. 

Though Guenzler-Stevens might seem omnipresent on campus, greeting students by 7 a.m. when the Stamp opens and staying past midnight during the All-Niter, life circumstances haven’t always made it easy.

She spent years flying back and forth to Chicago every other month to see her sick and aging parents, and for half a decade in the late 1990s, visited her husband, Randy, every weekend in New England, where he was dean of students at a boarding school. 

“You have this guilt of, ‘I’m not 100% here or 100% there,’” she said. “But then you work to make sure you’re being the best partner, colleague, mentor in each community.” 

At UMD, that meant joining the student union staff in 1987 as she finished pursued a doctorate in the College of Education, and championing young Terp leaders like Sherwin Collette ’89, now chief operating officer at Montgomery College; Student Entertainment Events President Jared Paul ’99, who now manages major musical artists; or Asian American Student Union President Christina Lagdameo ’98, who later served at the White House. 

Surveying cars tossed into trees by a freak tornado isn’t part of Guenzler-Stevens’ job description. Nor is organizing a campuswide vigil after a terrorist attack reshaped the nation. But when these crises hit campus in back-to-back years, she stepped up.

Guenzler-Stevens was in the classroom teaching freshmen when the planes hit on Sept. 11. She immediately offered hugs and comfort to those 20 students—but knew that the rest of UMD would need a way to process their shock and grief too.

By then, the Memorial Chapel was part of her portfolio, so she worked with chaplains and colleagues in the Division of Student Affairs to brainstorm. Their solution: Bring 15,000 flowers to campus the next day, to give thousands of Terps the chance to gather at McKeldin Mall and pay their respects. “You could hear a pin drop,” she said. 

For Muslim Terps in particular, the days and months after were a terrifying time. Guenzler-Stevens heard from parents worried about letting their kids, especially those who wore hijabs, return to school and potentially become targets. She reached out to the UMD Muslim community, asking members to gather at the student union’s Atrium.

“She delivered this comforting, supportive message that we are here with you, and gave us space to talk,” said Chaplain Tarif Shraim ’01. 

Just a few weeks later, tragedy struck again. A tornado swept through the Denton community on North Campus, killing two students. The following day, someone needed to help students assess the damage, including cars tangled in trees, and take photos. In stepped Guenzler-Stevens and fellow Stamp colleagues, ready with Polaroid cameras and shoulders to cry on. 

In a crisis, it’s all about showing up, she said, and letting people know “we have a community. You’re not alone in this. You got people.” 

Stepping onto UMD’s campus as a veteran these days means finding support from day one, from more than 90 scholarships to a thriving Veteran Student Life Center and counseling services. That’s thanks in large part to Guenzler-Stevens. 

She didn’t grow up in military family (though her dad served in the Army before she was born) but three decades ago, she met Diane Carlson Evans, a former Army nurse who had served in the Vietnam War, at a women’s leadership conference. Evans was looking for volunteers to create the Vietnam Women’s Memorial, and Guenzler-Stevens raised her hand. 

Since then, “I’ve asked people to tell their stories year after year,” she said. “For Vietnam vets who were told to shut up, this was transformative.” 

In the early 2000s, then-Vice President of Student Affairs Linda Clement asked Guenzler-Stevens to chat with a student veteran struggling to fit in. Guenzler-Stevens discovered that what UMD offered at the time “was not working” and spearheaded a task force with colleague Warren Kelly, now senior associate vice president for well-being, to serve that population better. With $50,000 from the university and a federal grant, they expanded their offerings to include veterans-specific new-student orientation, tutoring and career events, military appreciation days in partnership with Athletics and support for the TerpVets student organization. 

For Dennis Robinson MBA ’10, who served in Afghanistan and Iraq and became one of the first Tillman Scholars at UMD, Guenzler-Stevens’ impact extended beyond his time on campus. He graduated into a tough job market, unable to pursue the career he’d originally envisioned, and after a few years, decided to reach back out. 

“I was ashamed I didn’t do what I said I would” in giving back to the community, he said, so he had pulled back. But she opened her arms to him—and he opened up. “I told her about my rough childhood, the horrors of war, letting it all out. She didn’t shy away from it. Her hug just got tighter.” 

She invited him to UMD to speak to fellow veterans, he started helping with scholarship selections, and now, he returns every year. 

“I have imposter syndrome, but Marsha’s magic is that she sees you for who you are,” said Robinson, now an attorney for the federal government. “She told me, ‘You’re exactly the person who needs to give your perspective.’” 

Four decades into teaching, as clickers and laptops replaced chalk and projectors, Guenzler-Stevens still prefers to head to the local coffee shop with a stack of papers to grade.

“I’ve never had a professor who paid such attention to what we submit,” said Peyton McDonald ’27, after getting back the autobiography she wrote for her “Women and Leadership” class. “There were notes in the margin of every paragraph. It was so special to know someone is actually reading and caring about what you’re doing.”

It’s no surprise that retirement for Guenzler-Stevens doesn’t mean slowing down.

She’s excited to spend more time with her husband and the girls he oversees at St. Timothy’s School outside Baltimore, where they’ve lived for the past 22 years. Volunteer at a dental clinic for low-income children like she used to do (“That’s how I use my biology degree,” she jokes). Take a friend to chemotherapy treatments. Maybe even write a book. 

Whatever she decides, her presence will still be felt across campus for years to come. Generations of Terps will benefit from not only the programs, scholarships and spaces she’s created, but also the passion and warmth she’s imparted to countless mentees.

Infantino sees her as a 21^st century Adele Stamp, the pioneering administrator and adviser for Terp women from 1922-60. “She was a force of nature, the dean of women. Marsha has had all of Adele Stamp’s good qualities ported over to her,” said Infantino, who’s looking forward to one last UMD Commencement with her, leading the senior marshals representing the best of the university.

Guenzler-Stevens credits her “amazing colleagues” for making all her efforts possible, and hopes people will stop and say hi in the coming months. For as long as she’s around, she’ll keep setting up coffee dates, popping up in inboxes with introductory notes and making sure every Terp she meets finds a pathway to success. 

“I look at people and I think, ‘How do you unleash their dreams?’” she said. “I can resource them. That’s the gift I have.”