Merle Nading

Nading managed to get back to the diner’s east-facing doors. He stopped there to handcuff Yarber before taking him inside, away from the howling mob, but was prevented from doing so by interference from one or more persons. Wallis ran out to help. With the situation deteriorating rapidly, Nading knew he had to call for more officers before the mob overwhelmed them. After handing off the still-combative Yarber to Wallis, Nading started to push his way to his car, to get in it, start the ignition and call for help over the radio.

Before he could, however, someone in the crowd ran up to him and hit him hard on the side of his head, knocking him back against the wall, causing his hat to fall off. This emboldened the mob, and three other men jumped him. Nading fought off two of them and they ran away. He held onto to the third by placing him in a headlock.

It was this suspect who suddenly reached around Nading’s waist and snatched his service revolver from the snapped cross-draw holster he was wearing on the front of his gunbelt, put the muzzle of the gun to the center of Nading’s back and pulled the trigger. The wound was instantly devastating. And unsurvivable.

He gasped, “I’m hit!” and fell on the sidewalk between his car and the diner doors. Wallis let go of Yarber, took out a gun from his boot and went to Nading. “Who shot you, Merle?” Nading could say only that he had “run around that way” pointing northward. A pool of blood from his head injury started to form on the pavement.

Along with the shooter, still holding the gun, the mob ran off in all directions. Diner employees who knew and liked Nading came outside to try to help him. One of them, a teen-ager who washed dishes, bunched up his apron and put it under his head.

Diner manager Ernie Clark called the police. A cacophony of sirens filled the night air. Help, and plenty of it, would be there soon; but, sadly, not in time to have prevented the death of a good man who was a loving and much loved husband, father, son, brother, son-in-law, brother-in-law, friend and highly regarded police officer.

District 3 Officer Chris Erickson was patrolling on Colfax when the emergency broadcast was aired. He was among the first officers to arrive at the scene. He made sure the ambulance had an unobstructed pathway into the parking lot.

District 2 Officers Steve McCray, Don Roberts and Mike Pierson also got there within seconds of the broadcast. McCray and Roberts discovered the bullet laying on Nading’s chest while unbuttoning his long-sleeve, blue uniform shirt. McCray considered Nading something of “a protector,” the kind of bigger, stronger, more experienced officer that younger patrolmen like him were glad to have with them when the going got tough. The shooting that night was “a real wakeup call” to him that when you’re a policeman, no matter how big and strong you are, there might still come a day when even those things are not enough to keep you alive.

Scores of officers from throughout the city converged on the scene. A Denver General Hospital ambulance sped into the parking lot and skidded to a stop. Attendants Brett Johnson and Ray Morris loaded Nading up and rushed him to the hospital.

He was pronounced dead at 4:30 a.m. by Dr. Douglas Yajko. An autopsy performed later that morning revealed the .38-caliber round had entered his back and lacerated his aorta before exiting his chest. He was only 30 years old. Wyckoff was assigned the sad task of guarding his friend’s body in trauma room one.

At the scene, grim-faced officers and detectives went about sorting order out of chaos. Biting down hard, many they had to suppress their anger and fight back tears. Later, at home, they could cry and rage, but not here and not now.
The suspect’s description – a black male, 5-8, 170, early 20s with an afro and wearing a tan jacket — was broadcast over and over again. A massive manhunt was begun. The crime scene and much of the area around it were cordoned off by yellow crime-scene tape and further protected from intrusion by officers posted around it. Potential witnesses were identified and isolated, then taken to police headquarters on Champa Street to be interviewed. The scene was documented photographically. Evidence was bagged and tagged. District 2 Lieutenant Charles Minor was in charge at the scene.

Doug White was Nading’s close friend and was working that night in District 2. After the shooting, when he was told to report to Captain Doral Smith, the District 2 commander, at the station, he didn’t understand why. Smith had stopped at the station because he wanted someone dependable who the family knew and trusted to go with him when he went to the Nading family home in unincorporated Adams County to break the news to them.

It had been only a few weeks since Pat had asked her husband if the district captain ever worked nights. He replied, no, never, except if something really good or something terribly bad has happened. Half-jokingly, he told her that if she ever sees Captain Smith standing at their door in the middle of the night, he was there to tell her only one thing, that he had been killed in the line of duty. And so it was, when she awoke to a pre-dawn knock at the door and went to answer it. She pleaded with Smith, “Just tell me he’s still alive, that’s he’s not dead.” He told her he could not say that.

She called her parents who lived nearby and they hurried over. She asked a trusted neighbor to come and watch sons Lance, 10, and Todd, 8, who were still asleep in their beds. White drove Pat and her parents to where her husband’s parents lived at 13th and Franklin St. in Denver When she broke the news to her mother-in-law, Louise Nading cried out in anguish for her husband, “Daddy! They have killed our boy!” A little later, the six of them went to Denver General Hospital to see him.

Sometime later that morning, Pat and the four parents went back to her house. She had to tell her sons about their dad. The boys had been able to spend much of the previous day on Saturday with him. He took them with him to work on the new gym he was helping to build at the District 2 station, while Pat spent much of the day downtown, volunteering for the Denver Visitors and Convention Bureau.

Not long after returning home with the boys, Nading had to get ready to go to work. He had to go in early to work an off-duty shift at Clark’s. Lance remembers his dad standing at the top of the basement stairs telling them he was leaving. “Bye, boys. Your mom will be home soon.” At that moment, an inexplicable and unforgettable wave of profound sadness washed over Lance.

The next morning his mom walked into his room and sat down on the bed. She was smoking, even though she had given up the habit years earlier. She told him his dad had died at work. Todd was sleeping in the room next to Lance’s in the basement. He remembered waking up to the sounds of crying and screaming coming from his brother’s room. He got up to find out what the matter was and was stunned to see all four of his grandparents standing there, crying. Pat was sitting on Lance’s bed, holding him tightly. Both of them were sobbing. She motioned for Todd to join them on the bed. Pat took a deep breath and steadied herself. Then as bravely as she could, she repeated the terrible news to Todd. Sitting on his brother’s bed with his mother’s and brother’s arms wrapped tightly around him, he suddenly realized that the four of them was now only the three of them. Fifty years later, neither Todd nor Lance can speak of that morning without breaking down.

Lance was eventually able to find a small measure of solace in remembering that his dad had lived long enough to see him become a national judo champion at the age of 10. The memory of his father’s joy on that occasion was something that not even the hateful act of a thug from east Denver could ever take away from him. It had been Merle who got him involved in judo in the first place. When Lance was only seven, he wanted to become a great competitive wrestler like his dad had been in high school. But back then, there were no programs offered to kids that young. He’d have to wait until he got to junior high. But his dad found the next best thing – a judo class for youngsters at the downtown YMCA. With his parents’ support and encouragement, he developed into an excellent judoka.

Detectives got an early break in the case when witnesses told them that a short, nervous, black male wearing a tan coat had waited until after nearly all the police cars had left the area before going out on the street to flag down a passing motorist. In the 1500 block of Gaylord Street, a car driven by Larry Bolling stopped. With Bolling were Larry Williams, Charles Higgins and Jerome Brooks. The man in the tan coat asked for a ride, saying he had had too much to drink. He wanted to know if one of them would mind going over to Clark’s parking lot and drive away his car, a tan, 1963 Oldsmobile. Brooks said he would and got out and the man gave him the keys. As they drove off, the man in the tan coat slumped down in the backseat and told Bolling he had just shot a policeman and needed to get out of the area fast. Bolling drove him to 37th and Jasmine in the Park Hill neighborhood. Brooks was stopped and detained as soon as entered Clark’s lot and taken to police headquarters for questioning.

As a result, all four people in Bolling’s car identified the man they had picked up as Kenneth Ray Green, 22, who lived at 2601 Eudora St. He closely matched the suspect description given by other witnesses. Green had served time in the state reformatory for burglary and larceny. A warrant for his arrest for murder was issued.

Initially, as many as 50 officers, including the entire Special Services Unit and every available detective were assigned, full-time, to the case. In the trying days ahead they would be supported by “hundreds” of off-duty officers who worked tirelessly around the clock tracking down witnesses and chasing leads. Additional investigative support was provided by the Federal Bureau of Investigation.

After a second DPD officer was shot that same morning in north Denver, another massive manhunt was started. A rookie District 1 officer named Daril Cinquanta was critically wounded at 9:30 a.m., after he saw a suspicious man get into a car occupied by two girls in the Quigg Newton public housing projects in the 4700 block of Mariposa St. When he contacted the man, a struggle ensued and he was shot by the suspect – a prison escapee from California — who then fled. The 23-year-old officer crawled back to his car to call for help.

Then, if that wasn’t already enough, early the next morning, another District 1 officer, Larry Carmer , was shot, although he was not as badly wounded as Cinquanta. Carmer and his partner, Robert Partenheimer, were investigating a rape at 4371 Clay St., at 1:45 a.m., when the suspect shot Carmer in the leg through the door of his apartment. Partenheimer returned fire, wounding the suspect. Carmer was treated at DGH and released. In less than 24 hours’ time, three Denver Police had been shot in separate actions and one of them had died.

As the search for Green in east Denver intensified, some officers were criticized for what was termed their racist views and the heavy-handed tactics they used to detain members of the black community and search their homes without warrants. Lieutenant Don Brannan of the Homicide Bureau spoke up in their defense:

“The guys aren’t coming in with blood in their eyes. They just want to find the person. They just want to get the job done.” In the same newspaper story, “a young patrolman who had been working more than 18 hours, pointed out, ‘If it ever happened to me, I’d want the guys to find out who did it.’”

Many of them would take a break only long enough to attend Nading’s funeral on the afternoon of Wednesday, October 6th, at the Westminster United Methodist Church at 3585 W. 76th Ave. It was the same church where 12 years earlier, high school sweethearts Patricia Kay Jacobson and Merle E. Nading, Jr. were married. A few years prior to that, Merle had been the first president of the church’s Methodist Youth Fellowship. Both Pat and Merle had graduated from Westminster High School in 1959. Merle had been one of the best high school wrestlers in Colorado and a standout member of the varsity football team. He was offered a football scholarship to Columbia University in New York City but turned it down to marry Pat and start a family.

At the time it was believed to be the largest police officer funeral in Denver’s history, with an estimated 2,500 people attending, including hundreds of law enforcement officers from across the state and beyond it. The Rev. Omer Timmons officiated and the Rev. William McIntosh, a police department chaplain, eulogized Nading. It took a full hour for mourners to file past the open coffin to pay their respects.

The honor guard consisted of Bill Koonce, James Leo, Larry Swanson, Wulf Kroekel, Al Nieto and Phillip Young. Pallbearers were Leonard Portugal, Dean Susuras, J.C. Tyus, John Seckman, Nick Susuras, Jr. and Doug White. Honorary pallbearers included D.L. Bolton, R.L. Nice, D.M. Remley, J.D. Vacca, R.J. Dunkley, H.D. Oaks, Daniel Sewald and A.W. Zavares.

A mile-long line of more than 100 cars, most of them police cars, slowly processed behind a black hearse to Crown Hill cemetery in Wheat Ridge where he was buried.

In addition to his wife and sons, Nading was survived by his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Merle Nading, Sr., two sisters, Mary Ann Smith of Nevada City, California, and Nancy Dworek of Wichita, Kansas; his parents-in-laws, Mr. and Mrs. Henry Jacobson of Westminster, as well as by a brother-in-law Bruce Jacobson of Westminster, sister-in-law Jeanne Jacobson of Denver, and sister-in-law Judy Gibson of Northglenn.

One of the lines of inquiry detectives were investigating had to do with the reported sighting of a car at the scene of Nading’s murder that had been associated with three unknown males who had threatened to kill him a few weeks before. Another line of inquiry was to establish whether Nading and Green had known each other; and if so, in what circumstances. A review of Nading’s log sheets, the offense and arrest reports he had written, contact cards he filled out and all the movers and parkers he had issued found no indication of any previous contact. His fellow officers were asked if they knew of any contact between the two of them and none was reported.

Investigators learned that Green had purchased a one-way ticket on Braniff Airlines to Dallas, Texas, using the name of Joe Woods. He ended up not using the ticket but did escape to Texas for a short time by other means. He may possibly have been concealed in the trunk of his brother Frank Green’s car. On the day of the funeral, Robert Gibson, an employee of a Phillips 66 gas station in Springfield in the extreme southeastern corner of Colorado, noted the car, a 1964 Buick Electra 225, when it’s driver, thought to have been Frank Green and a passenger, believed to have been his wife, stopped for gas before continuing southbound. Gibson alertly notified the local sheriff, who advised Denver detectives. Green had family living in Dallas, Waco and Wichita Falls, Texas.

On Friday Captain Smith, who had been negotiating Green’s surrender with members of his family, came up with an idea involving the giving of reward money to a relative if Green was willing to surrender to Smith in Dallas. It was understood the money would be used for his defense. Later that afternoon, shortly before Smith and one of Green’s family members – who, because he was on probation, was prohibited from leaving the state, but was recruited anyway by Denver District Attorney Jarvis Secombe to go with Smith – were scheduled to fly out of Stapleton Airport for Love Field in Dallas, Division Chief Art Dill quashed the plan citing numerous legal problems with it.

Two days later, one week after Nading’s death, Green was arrested in the east Texas town of Henderson by Henderson Police Officer Dwight Morton and Sergeant James Hale. He was riding in a car with other people including Frank Green and his wife. FBI agents took him before a judge in Tyler, Texas, to be arraigned. Denver Police Sergeant James Jones and Detective Charles McCormick flew to Tyler. In order to lawfully take custody of Green, both men were deputized by the Smith County undersheriff. They took Green to Dallas, then returned with him to Denver.

On October 16th, Nading’s service revolver, a Smith and Wesson combat masterpiece, was recovered after a resident of 1609 Gaylord St. called police to report she had found a gun in a bush in her yard. Its cylinder was loaded with five live rounds and one spent round. The location was just north of where Bolling had picked up Green.

Green’s trial began in February 1972. District Attorney Secombe led the prosecution team. Green was defended by Chief Public Defender Rollie Rogers, who was assisted by. J.D. McFarlane. An all-white jury heard the case in Judge Donald Pacheco’s district courtroom. On February 17th, they acquitted Green after deliberating for only 3 ½ hours. Jurors agreed with the defense that witness identifications of Green as the gunman were not credible. The prosecution was hindered by the unwillingness of some witnesses to testify, and by other witnesses who recanted on the stand. It was clear to anyone with eyes to see that some of them had been threatened. Two of Green’s brothers were arrested for witness intimidation.

Nading’s family, friends, fellow officers and many others in the city were devastated when they learned of the verdict. To Pat Nading, more than anyone else, the jury’s decision was a punch to the gut. Many blamed the verdict on DA Secombe’s poor prosecutorial skills and called for his removal from office. Some of them have not forgiven him yet.

Pat found herself in the unenviable position of having to be the family’s only bread winner while raising her two young sons as a single parent. She and Merle had talked about how, with their kids 8 and 10 years old, she might be able to start working outside of the home. She liked the idea, but never anticipated it would so soon become a necessity brought on by tragedy.

While Merle was still alive, she had taken out an application to join the department as a police officer. He had supported the idea. She tested and finished high enough to get her name placed on the eligibility list of candidates. In the meantime, she went to work for the department in a civilian capacity, in the auto theft section at police headquarters. Several months later, Chief of Police Art Dill called her into his office to ask her if she was ready to “come on the job,” as a probationary police officer in the academy. She told him she would first have to talk it over with her family. The boys were understandably apprehensive. Not only would her schedule change and always be in flux as a patrol officer, but she would face the same kinds of dangers her husband had. In the interest of the wellbeing of her boys, she told Dill it was best for her to stay working as a civilian in the department. It was a decision she never regretted.

Over the next 18 years she worked for the department in various assignments at police headquarters and at District 2, where she was the captain’s administrative aide. After earning her bachelor’s degree, she decided to transfer to Denver International Airport, where, as a senior analyst, she served as the staff assistant to the director of finance. Six years later, she retired from the city.

She found love again and married Larry Amman, a Denver Police lieutenant. They married after Todd and Lance were already well on their ways to living their adult lives.

While she worked for the city and later after she retired, Pat never tired of taking the opportunity to tell her heartfelt story about what had happened to her late husband to academy classes, rolls calls, survivor support groups, community organizations, church gatherings and others. She helped found the Denver Police Museum and served as vice president of its board of directors for many years. She was a passionate advocate for fallen-officer families and was responsible for organizing the first real local support group for them. Wherever and whenever she could, she worked hard to keep alive not only the memory of her late husband, but of all the other Denver Police officers who had made the supreme sacrifice.

Merle Nading would have been proud of his sons too. Lance became a restaurateur. At one time he owned four restaurants in the Denver area, including Pints Pub and Dozens, located near the Police Administration Building on Cherokee Street. In 1987 he bought the York Street Café and Bar. It was not until his mother stopped in for lunch one day that he learned his restaurant just happened to be located in the same block where Clark’s Diner had once stood. After his mother left, he ran over to what was then a Salvation Army thrift store and walked all around it trying to imagine where Clark’s had been and where exactly his father had fallen.

Sometime after that, a black man walked into the bar and asked for him by name. He told Lance he had just retired from the Denver Police Department and wanted to tell him something about his dad; something he needed to hear directly from a black member of the department. Yes, he said, there were racists on the job. For better or worse, a police department reflects the community it serves, and in the late 1960s and early 1970s, racial strife was endemic in Denver and every other American city. But Merle Nading was no racist cop. And because of that, said this man, he and other black officers on the department respected him in life and mourned his passing.

“If my Dad’s death had any meaning at all,” Lance said, “it was to show being a police officer is a noble cause.”

Lance is also an award-winning home builder and successful land developer. He and his wife Wendy have two children, McKenna and Cole, both college students. McKenna is studying to become an attorney, while Cole is focused on computer science.

Todd chose a different kind of career path and became a pilot in the US Air Force. A veteran of the Gulf War and the Iraq War, he flew B1 bombers and was awarded the Air Medal for bravery after a particularly harrowing sortie over Baghdad. After 20 years of service he retired as a lieutenant colonel. He became a pilot and simulator instructor for Frontier Airlines. He is also an evaluator for the Federal Aviation Administration.

He and his wife Donna have three children, Megan, Tyler and Branden, and two small grandchildren. Megan is a dance instructor and teaches horseback riding to children. She and her husband have two kids. Tyler followed his father into the US Air Force and he too became a pilot. Branden just completed his first year of medical school.

Remembering the example his father had set, Todd never hesitated to show his own kids how much he loved them by hugging them and playfully wrestling with them. Not a single day has gone by in the past 50 years that Todd hasn’t thought about his dad.

Bob Wallis became a special friend to the family. He kept Pat up to date about developments in Green’s trial, when it seemed the DA’s office could not be bothered. He drove her to court and back. Wallis made himself available to Pat and her sons if they ever needed someone to talk to or spend time with. He took Todd and Lance on their first skiing trip; from it, Todd developed a lifelong enjoyment of the sport.

Two weeks after her husband died, Pat Nading wanted to convey her heartfelt appreciation for the outpouring of support she and her family had received from people like Bob Wallis and the other men and women of the Denver Police Department. She wrote a letter for the department’s official Daily Bulletin. It is reprinted, verbatim, here.