My family lived downstairs from The Belafontes in the same building, 300 West End Avenue. He was a friend of my father’s and I have many fond memories of him and his son, David, who I played with.
The elevator broke, between floors, with David and I in it. We rang the alarm. After an hour, or two, they opened up the doors on the floor above and Harry was lowered to the roof of the elevator, removed the panel and pulled me out first. That was just who he was.
On another occasion, David and I were playing and Harry called us in to meet someone. Harry was an imposing figure so there was never any blow back. He introduced us to Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King Junior. Surely, one of the high points of my life.
RIP Harry. You were a great American. When they made you they broke the mold.