Ricky Duling, aka Sgt. Santa, checks his list circa 1990.
Dalton Rotruck “Ricky” Duling never intended to adopt the persona of the jolly old elf, at first resisting the notion of an alter ego. In time, however, he realized the role was his calling. As Sgt. Santa, Duling came to be loved for his philanthropic deeds, which brought seasonal joy year-round to people of all ages.
Jeanne Walls, a friend of Duling’s for 30 years, coordinated fundraisers and other events benefiting the nonprofit Sergeant Santa of Richmond Inc. She also portrayed Mrs. Claus during Duling’s Christmas Parade appearances. In a roundup of appreciations by the now-defunct RVA News that was published in December 2010, Walls said, “He wasn’t a paid department store Santa. He was Sergeant Santa 365 days a year. … You could call him at 3 in the morning and say the next door neighbor’s house burnt down and they had three kids … and he would show up with clothes and toys and whatever the family needed.”
Duling never solicited funds for his endeavor. Contributions came in without him ever having to ask.
His late-in-life Santa career began in 1988, following his retirement from the Richmond Police Department after 35 years.
In the RVA News piece, Richmond freelance writer Leah Small recalled how Duling “became a Richmond tradition featured in parades and visited the sick in hospitals and nursing homes.” His “Chief Elf,” Ruby Briggs Clanton, kept Sergeant Santa of Richmond Inc. running and made sure that Duling got to where he was needed.
North of the James Publisher Charles McGuigan visited Santa’s workshop in 2005. He didn’t make an expedition to the North Pole, but to 1418 W. Marshall St., in the Carver neighborhood. The building was paid for with donations, including $5,000 apiece from the property’s three owners. (Today, it’s the Eagle Mill Lofts).
McGuigan described “a long table cluttered with boxes of bulk candy canes that are being packaged in small sacks by some 30 elves, all working methodically while singing Christmas carols. The head elf, Ruby Clanton, answers the phone, which rings about every other minute. And next to me in a folding chair is the man himself — Sgt. Santa, dressed down in khakis, a blue work shirt, red suspenders and a teal nylon bomber jacket. His complexion is ruddy as a Red Delicious apple, his eyes blue as ice, and beard and hair like raw cotton. A pair of wire-rimmed glasses perch on his nose and he is talking, telling me about his own transformation.”
Ricky Duling was born on July 23, 1926, in the back bedroom of the family home on Grayland Avenue, to police officer Frank and his wife, Margaret. Frank died 14 months later in a car accident. During the Great Depression, Margaret was determined to keep the small family together, which included Duling’s older brother, Frank Jr. She sold baked goods, took in laundry and even hosted boarders. The $2 weekly rental came with breakfast and bag lunches on Wednesdays.
At age 16, Duling began working as a photo lab technician, followed by stints at Richmond Steel, then the Dupont cellophane plant. His brother Frank joined the police force and eventually rose to chief. Uncles Tom and Dan were also policemen, and Duling joined the force in 1953. His patrol duties included the streets of Jackson Ward, which he came to know well, although initially kids would scatter at the approach of his police cruiser. So, he began handing out bubblegum and eventually built a rapport.
Duling poses in his police uniform in the mid-1950s.
During the summer months, he and fellow officers would take a group of children from the city’s underprivileged neighborhoods to the Fraternal Order of Police-sponsored John Marshall Youth Camp in Caroline County.
While working as an undercover detective in the mid-1960s, he grew a beard. One day while standing in line at the bank, he was approached by a talent agent who was looking for someone to play Santa in a commercial for Disco Sports, a local sporting goods retailer. Duling initially demurred, but he then decided to leverage his resemblance to Saint Nick to secure a donation — $500 worth of sports equipment for the camp.
The commercial landed him another gig the next year, when a woman asked him to play Santa at a company event. He didn’t have a suit, so she supplied him with one. After the job was done, the owner handed him a big box. It was the Santa suit.
“As far as I’m concerned, this is the end of Santa right here and now,” Duling said, at first refusing the gift. But the man insisted. Duling put the box in the trunk of his police car and drove off.
While waiting at a traffic light a couple of weeks later, he experienced an epiphany. Duling realized how he could use the almost-forgotten red suit in the trunk.
He asked his supervisors for a patrol car, and lawyer friends gifted enough funds to purchase 300 boxes of candy. Then, on Christmas Eve 1972, dressed in the Santa suit, he drove the patrol car to the neighborhood where some of the camp kids lived. They were astounded by the sight. One youngster came to the car and said, “You’re Sgt. Santa now.”
The next Christmas, he traveled from Gilpin Court to Oregon Hill, dispensing 500 boxes of candy, cookies, comic books, coloring books and crayons. Donations steadily increased until he was delivering more than 10,000 boxes. He’d make his runs for 18 hours straight. When he emptied the car of treats, he’d load more. On those nights, he’d manage two hours of sleep.
Richmond broadcaster Bill Bevins got to know Duling well, and he related to Leah Small how he watched his transformation from an ex-cop with spicy stories to Santa and tales of “the little girl with Leukemia who hugged his neck last week and made him cry. ... He was just a loving guy, just the sweetest man who happened to be this badass cop.” Duling died on Aug. 21, 2010. He was 84.
Sgt. Santa parks his modified sled, a three-wheel motorcycle, in 1985.
Duling’s daughter, Tanya Kelly, remembered her father’s impact in the December 2010 tribute: “Everywhere Dad and I would go, just on our daily errands, …‘Hey Sarg, Hey Sarg,’ they would call out. ‘I remember you, and if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have had a Christmas!’ ... People everywhere had been touched by him. You just got used to it. When you went somewhere, you just knew we were going to stop and there were going to be a lot of stories.”
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