The 10 judges crowded around the table at Duffy’s gave new meaning to bar association.
The jurists kidded, counseled and consoled, just as a rotating cast of judges has done each Monday for 32 years. Last Monday, the latest judicial crew gathered for a next-to-last midday meal at a downtown bar as famous for its atmosphere and cheap food as its booze.
Duffy’s closes Nov. 30. When it does, a powerful courthouse confab must find a new place to trade war stories and tease.
“The days of a decent blue-plate special are about to come to an end,” proclaimed Denver County Judge Ray Satter, as he prepared to uniquely season his baked chicken platter.
“Here,” offered Denver District Judge Steve Phillips, “let me get the pepper ready for you.”
Phillips unscrewed and removed the top from the shaker. Everyone laughed.
It’s been no-holds-barred at this table since guys like the late Warren Martin ushered in an institution in 1974.
Martin took a curt style from his Denver courtroom to Duffy’s table.
Each week for decades, Martin ordered chicken fried steak with the words “chicken fried.” As he ate, he sometimes made mincemeat of his pals. Once, Martin watched a notoriously cheap judge counting out change for a tip.
“For God’s sake,” Martin bellowed, “leave a dollar.”
When Denver District Judge Bob McGahey worried about his assignment to criminal court, Martin counseled, “Don’t worry. Murder is just first-degree assault with one less witness.”
The advice from all the judges could be gruff, admitted retired Denver District Judge Lynn Hufnagel, but “you could learn more over this lunch than you could doing research for an hour in a law library.”
Between jibes, the judges hashed out such things as better jury selection.
Hufnagel broke the gender barrier in 1981. Phillips came in 1982. Satter has been a regular for 15 years. Many of the originals – like Martin and federal Judge Dan Sparr – have died. But even as the players changed, the game remained.
“I have told every new judge, ‘Don’t hide out at lunch,”‘ Hufnagel said, sitting at a table of four females and six males.
If you aren’t there, you are fair game.
“I try to be entertained, not the entertainment,” said Denver District Judge Christina Habas.
Few of the judges in the current lunch crew has been inside Duffy’s after dark, when the place turns into a beer-pounder’s paradise. As one judge explained, “I can’t drink in public anymore.”
What they can do is regale one another with tales at noon on Mondays.
“I had a young couple in for a status conference on a divorce,” Phillips told the table this week. “They’d been married a year. There were no kids. Not many assets. The guy tells me he doesn’t mind the divorce, but he wants conjugal visits twice a week. I’m about to say, ‘I don’t think you understand,’ but before I can get a word out, the wife says, ‘Not more than once a week.”‘
Satter countered with the story of a man who came before him charged with knocking off a woman’s shoe in a McDonald’s, then putting the shoe over his nose and inhaling.
“She started struggling with him to get the shoe back,” Satter said, “and it flew out of his hand into the deep-fat fryer.”
The jurisprudence discussed at Duffy’s wasn’t always so soleful. But it was usually fun. At first, longtime Duffy’s waitress Carla Wyckoff didn’t know she was serving judges. She played along with the wisecracks and offered occasional smooches on what turned out to be the balding pates of the powerful.
“No disrespect to the chef,” Habas said, “but we don’t come for the food.”
They came for the camaraderie.
“As a newbie judge, it was good to think you had colleagues,” McGahey explained. “It was like you were part of the group.”
Finding someplace else to maintain this association will be hard. “What we need,” McGahey explained, “is a place with a 10 for ambiance and a 3 for food.”
“And,” Hufnagel added, “a 1 for cost.”
Jim Spencer’s column appears Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Reach him at 303-954-1771 or jspencer@denverpost.com.
