In last week’s edition of the AmNews we repeated our salutes to Charles Rangel and Hazel Dukes, two notable New Yorkers who joined the ancestors. Continuing our extended praise song, I offer this one in memory of Lloyd Williams, who was inseparably linked to Mr. Rangel and Ms. Dukes.
Hardly a momentous occasion in Harlem went by without the trio headlining it. I met Lloyd first in the late 80s during a book signing, and he approached me and asserted, “So, you think you’re all that, huh?” I was momentarily stunned by the comment but was instantly relieved by his smile and warm embrace.
Lloyd, as many of his friends and associates knew, had a way of unbalancing and then charming you. After this rather abrupt introduction, he asked me to autograph several of my books, “and bring three to my office this week.”
From that beginning, more than 40 years ago, our relationship evolved into a productive one in which he secured my services, mainly as a co-writer on many of his projects. There was a precision in his editing skills that consistently elevated and refined whatever assignment we engaged.
Our friendship congealed further when I traveled with him and others to Martinique in 2015, where we were part of a diplomatic and commercial delegation representing the Greater Harlem Chamber of Commerce. Whether in conversation with the nation’s leaders or with vendors in the various shops, Lloyd was as commanding as he was gregarious. I never had any doubts about his leadership capability, and what he had done in Harlem was demonstrated abroad. Our last collaboration, along with other writers, was a sequel, of sorts, to “Forever Harlem,” a dream project we worked tirelessly on.
In many respects, this unpublished tome was his magnum opus, his tribute to a community he served unstintingly. Somehow, someway, one day it will stand as a testament to his commitment to Harlem, his love for its people, and its promise. During the holidays, I received a card from his family, emblazoned with a wonderful, smiling portrait of Lloyd, which now graces a mantel in my living room. Each day, when I walk by it, I can almost hear him saying, “Did you finish the story yet?”
Not yet, Lloyd, but I’m working on it.