It is a measure of the regard in which Denver police commander Rudy Sandoval is held that Friday’s retirement party was not his first, but his second. The first was sponsored by and for the community, which is something Division Chief Mary Beth Klee says she’s never seen. Then again, she says, Sandoval “is the epitome of what an officer should be.”
Klee says this in front of more than 100 cops, including a bunch of retired narcotics guys, who are not, God love ’em, the most politic of people. But at this sentiment, they blink not an eye, offer not a smirk.
Later, after the jokes about being on fixed incomes and showing up for the free meal, retired Sgt. Don “Deno” DeNovellis tells a story.
“Rudy was captain in the ’80s and he was assigned to narcotics. My first impression was, ‘oh, (expletive)!’ We got a know-nothing captain.’ So, he says, ‘I want to have a meeting with the sergeants.’ He brings us all in and introduces himself and says, “I don’t know anything about narcotics. I don’t pretend to know, nor should I. You guys are the experienced ones. My job is to make life as bearable for you as I can and to serve the community. I only have one request. Don’t ever let me get caught not knowing what’s going on.’ He backed his men, but he never put up with wrongdoing. He told it like it was. I had 10, 15 years before Rudy came on and this guy was the best captain I ever worked for.”
Sandoval himself arrives dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, which provokes doubletakes because he is a man long associated with his uniform. He is about to turn 65 and retires with 40 years on the job, more seniority than any one else in the department. He holds the department record for the longest tenure as captain or commander of a single police district. Seventeen years in southwest Denver police District 4.
I hadn’t been to too many police officer retirement luncheons. OK, I hadn’t been to any. But I expected the words of praise from the police chief and the district attorney and the city council members about a job well done. I expected wisecracks about all the cops born after Sandoval joined the department in 1970.
What I didn’t expect was the emotion. I’m not just talking about Sandoval’s administrative assistant, Shirley Mestas, who chokes the whole place up when she cries and says words will never convey the admiration she has for her boss. Or Sandoval’s own words of farewell, a husky: “Thank you. It was a great time.”
I mean the cops who say, as Sgt. Jaime Lucero did: “He never let his rank go to his head. He always treated you like an equal.” Or Sgt. Tom Sherwood: “He was fair. There was never any hidden agenda. He gave you respect and he got respect.”
I didn’t expect Dennis Griffith, retired 13 years, who shakes Sandoval’s hand and says: “You’re the best guy I ever worked for and that’s because you stayed human.”
All of those traits — equanimity, honesty, dignity, fairness — distinguished Sandoval, says retired Detective Ralph Bravo, who worked 13 years in District 4. “But his sense of what the community needed from police was something I never saw from anyone else. He was wonderful at that.”
He was. I attended several of Sandoval’s community meetings over the years. Admired the way he opened his door to residents. They loved him because he listened to them. He never condescended, was never defensive and he followed through. That he was not named the incoming Manager of Safety angered and disappointed many in the neighborhood. Sandoval was disappointed, too, but he says: “Life goes on. It’s time for the next phase.”
He tells me he has always had a sense of the community he served because, in many ways, he never left it. He was born in Greeley, but raised in the projects at 13th Avenue and Knox Court. His father abandoned the family, leaving his mother to raise Sandoval and his six siblings.
All of them became successful adults, and Sandoval has not forgotten his mother’s lessons, starting with: You treat people the way you want to be treated.
“You know what the important things are in a family, in raising children?” he asks me. “Love, guidance and discipline. And they all gotta be the same. You can’t love them more than you guide them. You can’t guide them more than you discipline them. . . . You have to be a good person. You have to set a good example. You have to have a conscience. Show a little patience and compassion. That’s how we raised our sons. That’s what I took to my job.”
In the department, some called Sandoval “the Godfather.” It was an honorific, a nod not just to his tenure, but to his ability to guide officers, the young, the troubled, the talented. “He was kind of the dad of the family,” Chief Gerald Whitman says.
Commander Sandoval’s last official day is today. Badge number 70017 is now retired.
Tina Griego writes Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. Reach her at 303-954-2699 or tgriego@denverpost.com.
