Overview:
Two Denver Black men honor their fathers’ legacies, showing how their presence reshapes families and communities.
Black men who have been present in their children’s lives as fathers need to receive their flowers and know the shockwave their involvement has sent through the lives of their children and their communities. Too often, Black fathers have been unfairly cast in a negative light, but their presence tells another story—one of stability, guidance and legacy.
My father is the perfect model of the Black man in my eyes, and I believe his presence makes all the difference in social progress, alongside all the Black men who became role models for their sons. There is a direct correlation to father absenteeism, education level, socioeconomic status and racial identity.
According to the Office of Juvenile Justice and Delinquency Prevention, “Children living with only their mothers in 2021 were more than twice as likely to live in poverty than those living with only their fathers (35.0% vs. 17.4%).” It’s never the choice between being there and not being there. In most cases, it’s the choice between a fighting chance and an uphill struggle.
Two talented and inspiring Coloradoan Black men who owe it all to their father’s presence in their lives are David DeClouet and Elroy Williams.
I met DeClouet at a low point in my life. I needed a job while in the midst of circling listings for possible writing gigs, and I landed at a dealership moving cars. DeClouet had a warm, confident demeanor paired with a Magic Johnson-like grin to pair with his short white beard. He perfectly captured the image of a cool Black Santa Claus who was experimenting with trimmed stubble.
DeClouet proudly took the helm of a father figure for past and current employees at the dealership. He calls every car porter that trained under him “David’s Disciples.” As a recent college grad trying to keep my head above water, DeClouet felt like a life raft. I needed a lot of help, and he was never afraid to offer it. He was always giving nuggets of wisdom and telling me stories about his past. My favorite stories were the ones he told of his father.
In the mind of DeClouet, his father, Frederic DeClouet, held the highest honor and respect. He couldn’t speak more highly of his Pops. Frederic was a World War II veteran, one of the first Black Marines, and a business owner when Black people were often denied the necessary resources and opportunities to break ground on their own ventures. He was an author and a college graduate despite dropping out of school in the sixth grade. He was a skilled cook. And most importantly, he was a fantastic father to his four children.
When asked to compare a defining moment in his father’s life to one of the defining moments in his own life, DeClouet then described the barriers that his father faced in opening a Creole restaurant named “Maggie’s” in Minneapolis in 1958. “He never came out and said it, but because of racism, they would not give him a liquor license,” DeClouet said. “We actually had the restaurant and we were serving people, but the result of not getting the liquor license caused us to fold.”
Black business owners in the 1950s were rare, and for a reason. Not only was it hard to acquire funds, but it was also hard to be given due process in any administrative or legal circumstance pre-Civil Rights Act. Subsequently, the DeClouets migrated to Denver in 1962.
“He was so determined to have his own restaurant with his own name on it,” DeClouet said. “This sticks out in my mind how determined he was … what he wanted to build, to leave for us. He didn’t want his children to want for anything.”
From the brunt of hard work, Frederic passed on a small fortune, including multiple properties and a hefty amount of savings to pair with investments. “He’s always been there, and I don’t know what it’s like not to have a father,” he said. DeClouet remembered his dad’s provision and now, as a father and grandfather, he recounts the example that has been his compass.
“That’s the basic role of what I see a Black man should be showing his young, Black son—is just how to be a man in this world,” DeClouet said. “My father instilled such a great work ethic in me. I didn’t realize how important it was to have a good work ethic.”
DeClouet told me that he didn’t catch on to his father’s advice until he was 35 years old, following the aftermath of a near-fatal attempt on his life. “I chose the wrong path,” DeClouet told me in full transparency. “I started being in the middle of drug deals—being transportation for drug dealers. Even though the money was okay, it was dirty money.”
Having a wealth of life as well as a wealth of resources and opportunities was not enough to steer DeClouet away from the pressures of hard life circumstances. “I was going nowhere fast, and ultimately it ended up with me getting in a car accident and getting shot four times,” DeClouet said. DeClouet told me that it took him ten years to recover from the trauma of getting shot.
“After that, I took on a more serious approach to life,” DeClouet said. “I started living the way I would think my father wanted me to live. When I got shot, it changed the way people looked at me. And it affected the people around me and the people that loved me.”
Similar to DeClouet, I met Elroy Williams at work. I had gotten a job as a valet, and he was the second person I met. He once dubbed himself a “West Indian Prince,” and a first glance at Williams offered me sufficient proof. He had a gold grill, a gold bracelet and two gold chains dangling, and he had an authentic Caribbean cadence to his voice.
Williams showed me the ropes, and I was amazed at how many people fed off his charisma. He could talk someone into a $50 tip, and they would somehow fork it over with a smile on their face. He was like the central figure on the block, and sometimes I would make a friend just by telling them I knew Williams.
I loved to pick his brain, and he loved to tell stories, so we became a great pair. His best stories were always the ones that took place in the Caribbean. Williams is originally from Colón, Panama, like his mother, Miranda Williams, but he eventually landed in Tortola of the British Virgin Islands, where his father, Den Dean Williams, was from.
Williams shared the fondest memories about being around his father, who had sadly passed from prostate cancer in late 2023. “My father was the number one man that I looked up to,” Williams said. “The connection was that I really took a liking to what he was doing—the cooking, the food.”
He would bring Williams and his friends into his restaurant and pay them for a good day’s work in the kitchen, and he made sure everyone, from all walks of life, could get fed a hearty West Indian meal. “My father’s always been a giving person. And he never asked for nothing,” Williams said. “All he wanted was respect.”
Williams’ father, similar to DeClouet, reached a pivotal point in his life when he was nearing the end of his life. “That was rough for me, because he was a big dude, and to see him get cancer to the point where he needed all of our help was really humbling,” Williams said. “I said, ‘You know what, pops? You have always helped us out all our life, so allow us to do something for you.’”
In tribute to his fight through chemotherapy, Williams began to cut his hair, and even after his passing, he continues to shave his head in honor of his father’s legacy. “I did that sacrifice because I feel like all the physical things I could do,” Williams said. “It’s a moment of silence for me to reflect in the mirror and see my father in the mirror.”
The treatment broke down the body of Williams’ father, and after beating the cancer, Den Dean Williams still had succumbed to the long fight against prostate cancer. “That has been life-changing for me,” said Williams.
As the son of a Black man, I understand the importance of carrying my father’s presence into the way I move through the world. Every step I take reflects the vast body of work he poured into me.
For the work that Black men like DeClouet and Williams have done for their families and for Denver, I applaud them. They earned the respect of their loved ones by showing up and being examples of capable, committed Black men. Just like my own father, they deserve their flowers, and I intend to give them that through the gratitude I carry forward.
