When I was a little girl growing up in Denver, my uncle owned the Shirley Savoy Hotel and my grandfather was the Managing Director.
My father was in Greenland for six months and during that time my mother, brother and I lived with my grandparents. We went down to the hotel for dinner several times a week as my grandfather liked to make sure all was in order for the night.
Many of the employees were black Americans, but during the early fifties they were called “colored”. There was Curtis Clytus the very tall handsome doorman dressed in a dark uniform with brass buttons, smart hat and white gloves. He was so kind and to my childish delight always called me “Miss Susan”.
In the dining room, we were served by Dawson whose brow was perpetually wrinkled and the dear Aaron Dinwiddie who unexpectedly sent me a wedding present many years later.
These men and all those who worked beside them would have found the election of President Barak Obama a stunning and unbelievable event. They are all long gone, but in their honor I post this blog. Thank you, gentlemen. Your dream is here.
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