Denman T. Rucker, Esq.
1911-1987
The following is an excerpt from the book, Bar Nostalgia, Memories and Reflections of the Arlington Legal Community, from the 1950's to the Present, (see photo below) written by the late Ken McFarlane Smith. The book includes a collection of columns from the Journal of the Arlington County Bar Association that were written by Ken McFarlane Smith. One such column was written about our Founder, Denman T. Rucker. It is being reproduced with the permission of the Arlington County Bar Foundation which published the book. The excerpt is taken from pages 103-108 and reads as follows:
Denman Rucker: 'The Good Guy' from Bar Nostalgia, pages 103-108
Although I have revealed a rascal or two in the history of the
Arlington Bar Association, generally I have only written about the
good guys (so no one can take offense, "good guys" refers to all
genders of any nature whatsoever). There was one super good guy
I haven't mentioned other than in passing. He was Denman Rucker, father of the lawyer of the same name who still practices in Arlington today.
Denman Rucker was a handsome, stocky, white-haired, and very pleasant man who somewhat resembled senior circuit court Judge Walter T. McCarthy. Denny was always a player in the Bar
Skit, for two reasons: (1) He played the part of our senior Circuit
Court judge with style, copying his mannerisms and pronunciations
skillfully, and (2) he had a beautiful tenor voice and could
really sing. He was always the showstopper when he played the
part of "Falter T. Malarkey." Ernie Gearheart, a partner in the firm
Jesse, Phillips, Klinge & Kendrick, and I sang with Denman in the
Clarendon Baptist Church Men's Choir. Ernie and I were never
asked to solo-Denman was asked frequently.
I have had to reconstruct (because I was not in Arlington
yet), but when commonwealth's attorney Lawrence Douglas
resigned, his assistant Denny Rucker was appointed by the Circuit
Court for the remainder of his term. Then in 1948, Denman
ran for and won a four-year term as commonwealth's attorney. I
don't know the details, but sometime during that term there was
a big scandal concerning certain county officials playing poker
with local builders and developers. Denman was involved. Interestingly
enough, he was the one who (because of his own conscience)
blew the whistle. He knew full well it might harm his
career, and it did. There were no criminal charges or indictments,
but in 1952 Bill Hassan, a sort of newcomer and outsider, ran
against Denman in the Democratic primary. Bill didn't make a
big deal out of the scandal, but it was there, a haunting
omnipresence, and Denman lost his bid for reelection in a close
vote. The circuit judges then appointed Denman as a commissioner in chancery to hear divorce cases. For years, he did the
lion's share of those cases.
From the beginning, I liked him very much personally, but
soon got a real reading on his character. Millie and I were members of the First Baptist Church of Clarendon. One Sunday in 1955, he asked to talk with me after church. He told me he was
considering a run for commonwealth's attorney and wanted my
support as a very active and involved Young Democrat. He stared
that he would commit to me that if I supported him and he won,
he would appoint me as his assistant. I revealed to him that I had
been asked the same thing by Bill Hassan but that as of that time,
I had not committed. I also told him Bill had likewise promised
me the next available vacancy. However, I told him I would "like
to think it over."
Without missing a beat, Denny put his arm around my shoulder and said, "Don't pass up that opportunity. Hassan is the
incumbent and I have not definitely decided to run. You would
only be getting a possibility from me in exchange for what could
be a sure thing from Bill Hassan." A lesser man might have shaded
the truth a little or argued in order to get support. But not Denman!
He was too principled for that. Denman's final decision
was not to run. I had committed to Bill Hassan, and in 1956 was
appointed as an assistant, just as Bill had promised. I have never
forgotten Denman's honesty. He was far above deceiving a young
lawyer or even running the risk of trying to confuse him politically. In spite of the minor scrape he had gotten into concerning
gambling, for these and other reasons his integrity was (in the
opinion of practically everyone) beyond question.
Denman served for many years as a commissioner in chancery.
The balance of this column will be devoted to a couple of humorous incidents during hearings before him, one known to me and
one told to me.
In those days, divorce was not really an easy matter. There was
a lot of "behind the back" hand-shaking, along with sly winks
concerning the presentation of facts necessary to justify granting
a divorce. There was no such thing as a no-fault decree. Therefore, any times even lawyers of stature managed to exaggerate the
facts enough to obtain a divorce, when those unadorned facts, left
to the ordinary measure of proof, might have failed. Denman
could always sort these things out and make sure that the record
justified the decree. The Circuit Court judges had great confidence
in his ability. He could always separate the wheat from the chaff
and make sure that justice prevailed.
In one of my earlier cases before Denman, I represented a
young lady who, accompanied by her sister, had told me in my
office several times before we actually appeared for testimony
that her husband, an Air Force sergeant, had beaten her on many
occasions. I was consumed with righteous indignation when I
appeared before Denny to present the evidence. Imagine my surprise, when, with my client on the stand, I asked her about abusive
and violent behavior and got the answer, "Well, he wasn't so
bad!" This was surprising to me, but I thought maybe Denman
would excuse her, feeling that she was only attempting to ease her
own feelings, not realizing that she might be undermining her
case. I decided that her case would improve if backed by her sister's
testimony, since the sister had eagerly corroborated everything
my client had said to me earlier.
When the sister took the stand after preliminary questioning,
she suddenly, in response to my question, said, "As
a matter of
fact, I did not see an awful lot of them because during the three
months they lived with me, they spent practically all of their time
in the bedroom." I went into total shock. I recalled that upon
arrival they had glanced suspiciously at the court reporter. I had
neglected to mention that their testimony would be under oath. I
assumed they knew that. This apparently set them off, and they
became very reluctant to say anything similar to what they had
told me in my office. Denman looked at me with an amused smile
on his face and asked me if I wanted a recess. I told him that a continuance
would be more in order, and he readily agreed. We therefore
continued the matter and left.
Once I got them back in my office, I told them in no uncertain
terms that the testimony they had presented before the commissioner,
if left standing, would never make it, and if they did not
testify to the facts as they had laid them out to me on several occasions
in my office, there would be no divorce granted. I advised
them to think it over and call me.
Within a week or so my client called me and told me that they
were ready to testify as to exactly what they had said in my office
and that I should reschedule the hearing. I got a date and took
them before the commissioner, and they testified right down the
line-exactly what they had told me in my office. After all the evidence
was in and they had left the room, Denman looked up
with a whimsical smile on his face. He asked, "When were they
telling the truth?" I looked at him straight in the eye and said, "Denny, I don't have the faintest idea." He roared with laughter
and slapped the desk, but he recommended that the divorce be
granted. It was granted. For my own peace of mind, I decided
years ago that the truth was the "office" version.
Paul Varoutsos related another funny incident at a hearing
before Denny. I was not there, but you can get Paul's version at
your earliest opportunity. Paul had a case in which a young lady
and her best girlfriend were going to testify about the dastardly
(not a misspelling) deeds of her husband and then get a divorce.
On the big day, Paul said he appeared at Commissioner Rucker's
office in order to meet his client. He was surprised to find that not
only the client, but her best friend, were dressed in most revealing
miniskirts. They also were wearing low-cut blouses which
allowed much cleavage to show. In short, Paul said he felt like he
was going to church in the company of a couple of scantily clad
showgirls. That is not actually the way he put it, but you get the
idea! Don't be misled-they apparently were worth the view.
In the law at that time, there was an absolute requirement that sometime during a divorce hearing you had to ask the question of
a woman, "During your marriage, were you a true and dutiful
wife to your husband?" Paul got to that part of the case without
incident. When he asked the big question, his client looked at
her friend sitting on the couch and the friend giggled. With that,
his client then burst into giggles, and Paul said that he, as well as
the commissioner and the court reporter all had the same intuitive
flash at the same time. This gal could have been dutiful, as asked,
but "true"? Never! Paul said whether she was married two weeks,
two months, two years, or two decades, it was highly improbable
that she would have been "true" and that both she and her girlfriend
knew it-hence the giggles.
Commissioner Rucker started laughing, the court reporter
started laughing, and Paul, going along with the occasion, decided
it was really worth a laugh. Finally, pandemonium governed the
scene, and Denman put his head down on the desk on his arms
and shook uncontrollably with laughter. After a period of time,
when everybody got all their laughter out and calmed down,
Denman looked at the court reporter and said in a solemn voice, "Please record the witness's answer as 'Yes."' This again was an
index to Denman Rucker. He certainly saw the humor in the situation,
but he realized instantly that there would be no justice
gained by allowing that question to rule on the matter of her
divorce. Being a true Virginia gentleman, he recorded an answer
that solved the requirement but also did it justice. It all turned out
for the best not only for Paul, but for his client, because she got
her divorce. Who knows? Even her husband may have been
greatly relieved by the granting of the divorce!
Through all his years, Denman was active in the Bar Association
and a credit to our profession. In later years, when his son
came to practice with him, he resumed greater interest in our Bar
Association. His death had a considerable impact on the then-younger
members of the Bar, who knew him since he was so
active in his later professional years. There were many kind and
considerate attorneys practicing in Arlington at that time, but
Denman Rucker was one of the kindest and most considerate. He
was a first-class role model for many young lawyers of that time,
a thing sorely needed in today's world.