A Hard and Personal Story About His Father - Written by Larry Elder
Book corner: Dear Father, Dear Son: Two Lives…Eight Hours by Larry Elder.
Hard work wins. You get out of life what you put in. You can’t always control the outcome, but you can control the effort. No matter how hard you work or how good you are, sometimes things will go wrong. Character is about how you react when they do. – Randolph Elder
Is it possible to reconcile with an abusive parent? In Dear Father, Dear Son: Two Lives…Eight Hours, Larry Elder seems to think so.
In the book, Elder – an African-American conservative best known for his sharp-edged columns and radio commentary – steps away from politics to tell a far more personal story: that of his father, Randolph Elder, and their fractured relationship.
Sober, hardworking, and honest, Elder Sr was unwavering in his commitment to provide for his family. Yet he was also volatile and harsh, with a hair-trigger temper that often erupted into severe physical discipline, ultimately driving a wedge between him and his sons. By the age of fifteen, Elder had stopped speaking to his father altogether – a silence that lasted a full decade.
The heart of the book centers on a pivotal moment: at age twenty-five, Elder returns home intending to confront his father over the pain of his upbringing. Instead, the two talk for eight hours – an encounter that gives the book its title. During that conversation, his father shares the story of his life, revealing the struggles and experiences that shaped him. In seeing the man behind the stern exterior, Elder leaves with a profoundly altered perspective – one marked not by anger, but by understanding, admiration, and, ultimately, love.
Elder structures the book into three broad sections, with the first focusing on his childhood in Los Angeles during the 1950s and ’60s, where he navigates a home life dominated by his perpetually angry and sullen father. He paints a vivid picture of a tense, fearful atmosphere, where even the smallest, most innocent slip-up – a careless remark, a minor inconvenience, or a mild infraction – would trigger his father’s fury. Whether at home or on rare family outings, the specter of corporal punishment was always looming. The family’s attempts at joyous outings were frequently overshadowed by his father’s unpredictable moods, which drained the life from otherwise memorable experiences. A trip to Disneyland, for example, soured when his father, following a bumpy ride, developed a crick in his neck. Similarly, a visit to a Dodgers game was marred by his father’s annoyance at the behavior of other fans. Even the most typical childhood blunders—like his younger brother getting lost at a drive-in theater while returning from the concession stand – were not enough to spare his father’s wrath.
The book’s middle section – its heart and core – revolves around the pivotal incident from which the title is drawn. As a teenager, Elder worked in his father’s diner for the important pocket money it provided. He loathed the experience, particularly his father’s constant barking of orders and the demeaning, impatient way he was treated – especially humiliating because it all played out in front of the diner’s patrons. At 15, an explosive argument with his father pushed Elder to quit on the spot, and the two didn’t talk for ten full years.
From there, Elder threw himself into his studies, eventually finding success in law school and a thriving legal career in Cleveland. Yet the unresolved bitterness festered inside him, an emotional weight he couldn’t shake. Ten years later, the resentment became unbearable, and he made the difficult decision to return to Los Angeles for a confrontation. He showed up at the diner just before closing time, surprising his father. Elder Sr., surprised but composed, sat down with his son and listened, offering no protest, only quiet attention. In a moment of unexpected calm, he shared his own life story, asserting that, despite their turbulent relationship, he had been a better father to Elder than his own father had been to him.
Born in backwoods Georgia in 1915, he never knew his real father; his mother raised him with a series of boyfriends, one of who was a man named Elder. This man never married his mother and, even worse, was an alcoholic who physically abused the two.
One day, after coming home from school and making too much noise, young Randolph got into an argument with his mother and her then-boyfriend. His mother sided with her boyfriend, who threw the boy out of the house – never to return. He was 13 years old, an African-American with little schooling and even less money in one of the poorest and most racist areas in the country. The Great Depression began a year later.
Forced to fend for himself, he left school and took any work he could find. After stints as a yard boy (sleeping at night in barns), shoeshine boy, and cook, he eventually secured a prestigious position as a Pullman porter, then the largest private employer of African-American men in the country. It was through this job that he first visited California. Struck by its more tolerant atmosphere and temperate climate, he promised himself he would return someday.
After Pearl Harbor, he joined the Montford Point Marines, a unit comprising the first African-Americans to serve in the US Marine Corps. Promoted to staff sergeant, he served honorably in Guam as the head of a mess hall crew. But when he was discharged, he found that even with his considerable experience, no one would hire him as a cook. Desperate, he went to an unemployment office in Chattanooga, Tennessee, where a white clerk told him to use the “proper door.” Obediently, he stepped out into the hall and went through the “colored only” entrance – only to end up face-to-face with the same clerk. “Now, how may I help you?” she asked. So, he decided to take up his promise to return to California.
Facing similar obstacles to securing employment as a cook – although out in the Golden State the racism was more polite – he got a job as a janitor at Nabisco. After buying a home in working middle class LA, he was determined to ensure his wife would be a stay-at-home mom for his three rambunctious sons, knowing what could await them if they returned after school to an empty and parentless home. Embodying an almost Nietzschean philosophy towards hard work – Elder describes his father as highly disciplined, indefatigable and seemingly intolerant to pain – Elder Sr worked two full-time jobs and did extra work as a private cook on the weekends, averaging only a few hours’ sleep each night for many years. In addition, after being passed over for promotion due to his limited schooling, he went to night school for his GED. Later, in the early 1960s, at the age of 47, he owned and operated his own diner in the Pico-Union neighborhood of LA, wakening at 4:00 AM every morning. He ran the diner successfully for thirty years until his retirement.
After hours of listening to his father’s story, Elder felt his resentment and pain give way to a growing sense of admiration. Despite enduring profound poverty and racism, his father was neither bitter nor angry. He never saw himself as a victim, nor did he harbor hatred toward others. Instead, he lived with quiet discipline and purpose – resourceful, self-controlled, and relentlessly focused on his goals. He avoided vices, kept to himself, and spent carefully rather than frivolously. Elder was struck by one small but telling detail: his father carried a worn copy of Ten Rules for Success by A. G. Gaston in his wallet (see here), which he passed on during their conversation.
In seeing all this, Elder came to recognize not the harsh, distant figure of his youth, but a resilient, responsible, and humble man—one who believed that hard work could overcome most obstacles and who had simply tried, in his own imperfect way, to pass those values on to his sons.
As the eight hours pass – marked by countless cups of coffee – the two begin to speak not as estranged figures, but as equals: with honesty, warmth, and even humor. In that time, they quietly build a new, deeply affectionate father–son bond. Elder comes to understand that, though his father never expressed it outright, his love and pride in him had always been there. From that moment on, and for the next thirty-five years until his father’s death, they remained inseparable.
In the third section of the book, Elder describes the aftermath of the reconciliation. He describes helping to patch up his parents’ difficult marriage and getting them to revive their strained communication, and so visits to his parents’ home began to take on a lighter, warmer and more joyous tone. Elder describes the outings and conversations that he and his father took together where they shopped and watched movies. Later, he would play an active part in consoling his father after his mother’s passing.
Because of Elder’s public profile, his father slowly acquires a kind of celebrity of his own: he receives a standing ovation at one of Elder’s speeches and is even interviewed by Morley Safer on 60 Minutes.
As his father’s memory begins to fade, the book unfolds some of its most touching moments. Elder explains the iPhone to his father repeatedly due to Elder Sr’s dementia, each time patiently and gently. And in the book’s final passage, as Elder Sr. lay in bed preparing for sleep, Elder sits by his bedside and reads aloud from a book about the Montford Point Marines as his father listens quietly before drifting off. After lights out, Elder stares at his father from the hallway with love and admiration.
Dear Father, Dear Son: Two Lives…Eight Hours is a deeply moving and quietly powerful work. At just 247 pages, it remains a quick read, yet its emotional resonance lingers long after the final page. In less careful hands, the story might have slipped into mawkish sentimentality, but Elder keeps the narrative grounded, lucid, and unsparing. His father would have it no other way.
Note to readers: Randolph Elder passed away in 2011, and lived long enough for his son to read a copy of the book to him. He was posthumously awarded the Congressional Gold Medal in 2013 for his military service.
