Aerial views show COVID-19 and Detroit's new normal Scenes from Detroit as residents learn to live and adapt to the COVID-19 pandemic and find their new normal. Kelly Jordan and Mandi Wright, Detroit Free Press

More than 1,000 people in Michigan have died as a result of the novel coronavirus. They are more than numbers. They've been our fathers and mothers, our nurses on the front lines, our teachers, our mentors, the first responders, our civic leaders, colleagues at the plant, and our beloved friends.

These pages contain tributes to just a few of the metro Detroiters who have died during the coronavirus pandemic. The Detroit Free Press plans to honor those we have lost by continuing to tell their stories. If you have a family member or close friend who has died from COVID-19 and you would like to share their story, please visit our memorial wall and select “Share a story.”

Cmdr. Donafay Collins

Wayne County Sheriff's commander, former radio DJ, father

Cmdr. Donafay Collins died a respected leader, a beloved friend, a husband and a father of four on March 25. He was 63.

Collins was hospitalized for coronavirus for nearly two weeks before his death, said Sheriff Benny Napoleon.

“It was like someone put an anvil around my neck and just dropped it,” Napoleon said, when learning of his passing. “And I've been feeling very heavy since all of this transpired because I know that this is not the last of it.”

A member of the department for nearly 30 years, Collins worked in just about every role before becoming commander of the Division II jail on Clinton Street in Detroit, Napoleon said.

Wayne County Sheriff's Commander Donafay Collins is shown in a photo provided by the department. Wayne County Sheriff's Office

Napoleon remembered Collins as a mentor, always ready to speak up for his staff and deeply tied to the community through friends, outreach and from his time as a radio DJ at FM 92.3.

He retired from his radio role in late March 2019, police said.

Collins was a direct, but kind communicator — firm, but fair, Napoleon said.

“He was very respectful of my position as the leader of the agency, but he was always quick to remind me that he knew me when,” Napolean said with a laugh.

The two go way back, growing up in the same neighborhood on the east side of Detroit, Napoleon said.

Napoleon laughed when asked whether the two went to high school together. Collins went to Kettering High School while Napoleon went to Cass Technical High School, he said.

It was a running joke.

Collins was a well-respected, hardworking member of the force, Napoleon said. He was a role model, the first to volunteer for community-based assignments and always trying to be a better manager.

He got a master’s degree in recent years from the University of Michigan, Napoleon said. Collins was a likely candidate for future promotions, Napoleon said.

Collins was also a fun-loving person, who liked to organize gatherings for a large group of friends.

Though funeral services amid the coronavirus outbreak are complicated, Napoleon said any funeral for Collins would likely be the largest in attendance he has seen.

“It’s going to be a great loss for this agency — and for the whole community,” he said.

Ruben Burks

UAW leader, social justice activist, philanthropist, Flint community advocate

Ruben Burks, the first African American UAW secretary-treasurer, left a powerful social justice legacy when he died at age 86 on April 6.

Starting as an assembler at the former General Motors Fisher Body Plant 2 in Flint in 1955, he would steadily climb through the ranks with a reputation for strength and integrity.

“Ruben Burks was a man of inspiration, he was a man of hope and he was a man of dedication,” said Chris Martin, pastor of Cathedral of Faith Church in Flint and a former president of the Flint School Board. “He was always trying to make sure people were fed. He was a framework, not just a person, a framework in Flint. He was loved by thousands.”

Show caption Hide caption Ruben Burks, the first African-American UAW secretary-treasurer, left a powerful social justice legacy when he died at age 86 on April 6. In this photo from last... Ruben Burks, the first African-American UAW secretary-treasurer, left a powerful social justice legacy when he died at age 86 on April 6. In this photo from last fall, Burks joined striking General Motors' workers as part of the 50th anniversary remembrance of the 1969 strike at Fisher Body Plant 2. Ryan Garza, Detroit Free Press

Based at the union hall across from the Flint Assembly Plant for years, Burks was a respected and powerful force.

“He worked with governors, mayors. You really had to go through Ruben to get elected in the city of Flint,” Martin said. “He was, at one point, the guy everybody had to deal with. He would not shy away from a fight. Ruben was a fighter for civil rights, a fighter for a fair wage. He believed in building the middle class.”

Most recently, Burks walked the line with GM workers striking for 40 days in late 2019.

A Facebook page operated by UAW Local 1292 in Flint ran a photo of Burks beneath the message, "Our condolences go out to the family and friends of Ruben Burks. Ruben passed away today from the COVID-19 virus."

The fact that Burks was appointed at a crucial time in union history by UAW icon Walter Reuther, known for building the union and his legendary support of Martin Luther King Jr. during the most violent civil rights protests, says more than words can capture, said Harley Shaiken, a professor at the University of California, Berkeley, who specializes in labor and the global economy.

"Ruben Burks is a person who served with distinction, who had a reputation for integrity," Shaiken said. "He was a bridge in many ways between the Reuther era and what came after. Walter Reuther stood on the overpass at the Rouge plant on Miller Road and was beaten senseless for passing out leaflets. The union was born not easily and under his leadership and those who struggled so hard and often with great sacrifice to build the union. They set the pace for many nonunion workers and for other unions throughout the country."

Burks' activism with the union lasted half a century.

“It is never easy losing a member of the UAW family, and it is especially hard when it is someone like my union brother Ruben Burks, who gave so much to members and the union that he loved,” said Rory Gamble, who is the first African American president of the UAW. “He was a gentleman, and a fighter for what is right and just. I am forever thankful for his leadership and his friendship.”

In 1970, then-UAW President Reuther appointed Burks to be an international representative in Region 1C, which was based in Flint and covered western Michigan and the Upper Peninsula. By 1989, he was the director of Region 1C and held that position for 12 years.

In 1998, Burks became International UAW secretary-treasurer, a post he held until 2002, the UAW said.

Burks also held leadership roles with the Genesee County Economic Development Agency, and became the first labor leader to chair the Board of Trustees of the United Way of Genesee and Lapeer counties in 1991, the UAW said.

He served as director of the Flint Urban League, director of Goodwill Industries of Flint, an advisory board member of the University of Michigan-Flint, and as a leader with the UAW-General Motors Community Health Care Initiative in Flint. Burks was also involved in the Special Olympics, March of Dimes, Red Cross and Easter Seals. He received an honorary degree in Community Development from Mott Community College in recognition of his contributions to the Flint community.

In June 2014, Region 1C merged with Region 1D. In December 2017, Local 598 renamed its union hall Ruben Burks Hall to honor his leadership.

“Ruben Burks will always be here in spirit,” said UAW Region 1D Director Steve Dawes. “He was a soft-spoken man who was always here when we needed him. He was full of wisdom and never stopped fighting for active and retired UAW members and all working people.”

John Elliott

Educator, union leader, beloved father

As a teacher and union leader, longtime Detroit Federation of Teachers president emeritus John Elliott was motivated by one thing: providing the best education possible for Detroit students.

That’s the assessment of former students and co-workers about Elliott, 88, who died Wednesday, April 8, at Beaumont Hospital, due to complications from the coronavirus.

Show caption Hide caption Longtime Detroit Federation of Teachers president emeritus John Elliott served as president of the union from 1981 until 2001, following many years as a teacher... Longtime Detroit Federation of Teachers president emeritus John Elliott served as president of the union from 1981 until 2001, following many years as a teacher in the Detroit school district, including at Hutchins Junior High and Cooley High School. Hugh Granum, Detroit Free Press

Elliott served as president of the union from 1981 until 2001, following many years as a teacher in the Detroit school district, including at Hutchins Junior High and Cooley High School.

“With John Elliott, anything he negotiated or proposed was for the good of members, but also in the best interest of the students we served,” said Keith Johnson, who served as DFT president from 2008 to 2015. “For him, the quality of the contract and the quality of education children received were inextricably linked. He was passionate about our kids getting a quality education.

His longtime companion, Elizabeth Duhn, a former teacher herself, agreed.

“All of his battles to earn a fair wage and benefit package, to earn a starting salary so we’d be able to attract good new teachers, his fight for smaller class sizes, that was all for students,” she said. “He used to say, ‘Teachers cannot effectively teach, if they don’t have adequate supplies.’ He always had the best interest of both teachers and students in mind.”

Elliott was also a past chairman of the Democratic 14th Congressional District, an active member of the NAACP, and a vice president with the American Federation of Teachers. He guided many people into union leadership, locally and nationally.

Johnson was one of them. The two men formed an enduring bond.

“One of the most important things I learned from him was that just as important as knowing what to do is knowing when to do it,” a skill that played well in negotiations.

Johnson recalled another lesson. Following a successful negotiation in the early ‘90s, Johnson was dismayed that some union members were still not happy. He went to discuss it with Elliott. Elliott told him something he never forgot. “If you ever sit in this seat as president — and I hope you will someday — your job is not to make them happy, your job is to keep them working.”

Elliott’s preparedness coupled with his gentlemanly manner served him well — whether at the bargaining table, before the school board or in one-on-one conferences with teachers, Duhn said.

“John was always prepared,” she said. “He had done his homework. And he was always very respectful. He didn’t argue because he was so prepared he didn’t have to.”

Elliott, a native of Raleigh, West Virginia, served in the U.S. Army. He used his G.I. Bill to earn a teaching degree from Wayne State University. He also studied at Lawrence Tech and the University of Michigan.

Elliott has three adult children: two sons, Mark and Gary Elliott, and a daughter, Andrea Elliott.

Memorial contributions in his honor may be made to the Detroit Federation of Teachers Memorial Endowment Scholarship at Wayne State University, which Elliott established to provide financial assistance to Detroit students studying to become teachers.

Willie Wilkerson

Vietnam veteran, former firefighter, gregarious friend

Aretha Franklin's former romantic partner and longtime friend Willie Wilkerson died April 4 of COVID-19.

Wilkerson, 72, died at Ascension Providence Hospital in Rochester (formerly Crittenton). He had been living in Southfield and was admitted to the hospital March 30, family members said.

Detroit's Queen of Soul, Aretha Franklin, right, arrives Friday, January 13, 2006, at the North American International Auto Show Charity Preview with her date, Willie Wilkerson. J. KYLE KEENER, Detroit Free Press

Wilkerson was a retired Detroit firefighter who met Franklin in the late 1980s when he had a front-row seat at one of her concerts.

He was “hooting and hollering — he’s an outgoing guy — and she started a conversation with him,” said Reginald Amos, a retired deputy chief with the Detroit Fire Department.

The two chatted further after the show, Amos told the Free Press in 2012, just after the couple had announced they were engaged.

When they met, they learned that both had apartments in Detroit’s Riverfront Towers. Soon their relationship blossomed, turning into decades of an off-and-on romance, with Wilkerson also functioning as Franklin’s escort and road manager on her cross-country bus tours after she developed a fear of flying.

Their engagement in 2012 was the last of more than one canceled nuptials. A Free Press article at the time described Wilkerson as “a strapping Vietnam War veteran with a love of Cadillacs — Cadillac Willie is a nickname — (and) a sturdy, steady presence at Franklin’s side.”

After dating for several years, the couple talked about their romance in 1987 for a cover story in Jet magazine.

“She’s a very warm, very loving woman,” Wilkerson said. Yet, Franklin described them as a “fiery match.”

At the time of the 2012 betrothal, Wilkerson was 64 and Franklin was 70. Later that year, Franklin said that they'd decided not to marry, but would remain close friends. And they did. In the months before Franklin died in 2018 of pancreatic cancer, Wilkerson was “still very close to her, visiting her right to the end,” said Wilkerson’s daughter Tequila Wilkerson of Southfield.

“And they talked all the time on the phone,” over the decades of their friendship, Tequila Wilkerson recalled.

Wilkerson was equally devoted to his son and three daughters, his children said.

“We lived a mile apart” in Southfield, said Tequila Wilkerson, whose nickname is Tiki. “The type of father that he was, he came over in the middle of the night one time to kill a spider” that was scaring her, she said.

Willie Wilkerson Jr. was born in Detroit and graduated from Eastern High School in 1966, then served with the U.S. Marine Corps in the Vietnam War, the family said.

Upon his return, he joined the Detroit Fire Department around 1970 and became an outstanding fire engine operator, said Capt. David Webster, who commands the department’s Ladder Co. 27 in northwest Detroit. The two met early in their careers and became lifelong friends, Webster said.

Wilkerson “was the best fire engine operator I ever worked with — hot quick out of the fire station” and taking pride in all he did.

Regarding his friend’s ties to Franklin, Webster said: “He was also kind of elusive, as far as the dynamics of their relationship. I can just say he was affiliated with her.”

Wilkerson retired from firefighting in 1995, Webster said. By that time, Wilkerson and Franklin were known as a couple. For decades, he was her escort to glamorous events, including the Detroit Auto Show and the 2009 inauguration of President Barack Obama, for which Franklin sang “My Country ‘Tis of Thee.”

The two traveled together extensively, said another of Wilkerson’s daughters, Sandra Evangelista of Wilsonville, Oregon.

"In 2015, I was living in the Bay Area (of San Francisco, California), and he and Aretha came out there” so she could perform, Evangelista said.

“We were hanging out backstage, before the concert, and she took me to the side and said, ‘You miss your daddy, don’t you?’ And she said they would stay an extra day.

So, I got to show my dad all around San Francisco the next day,” Evangelista said, adding that “I loved her as much as I loved my dad.”

Her father retained his rollicking sense of humor even during his last days with nurses and other hospital staff, said a third daughter, Tanya Wilkerson Thompson of Grand Blanc.

“He was definitely a funny guy. He just had an infectious spirit. He could come to my son’s basketball games and he was just that guy that everybody could walk up to and feel like you knew him,” she said.

Besides his daughters, Wilkerson is survived by a son, John McGovern of Portland, Oregon, 10 grandchildren and six great-grandchildren. He is also survived by his wife, Doris Ogburn. The two married in 2019.

The family has not decided whether to hold a funeral because of concerns with the risk of disease transmission and the ban on public gatherings.

Family members said Wilkerson loved dogs, and so they directed that donations in his memory be made to the Michigan Humane Society, 30300 Telegraph Road, Suite 220, Bingham Farms, MI 48025; or via michiganhumane.org.

Marlowe Stoudamire

Detroit champion, community leader, beloved family man

Marlowe Stoudamire was larger than life, a vibrant man with a huge smile, known for his tireless dedication to Detroit, his kindness, and his honesty. He truly saw others, and dedicated his life to building Detroit community, and creating opportunity for Detroit and Detroiters.

He died March 24, a victim of the coronavirus outbreak. He was 43; and is survived by his wife, Valencia, and two young children.

Marlowe Stoudamire was project director of international business strategy at Henry Ford Health System before leaving to found consultancy Butterfly Effect Detroit. Elaine Cromie, Special to the Free Press

"Today, this became deeply personal for me," said Bob Riney, COO of Henry Ford Health System, and a friend of Stoudamire's. "Marlowe was a light to the city, a light to the region, a light to the time he spent with Henry Ford Health System, just a great, great dad and husband."

"We are mourning his loss," Riney said. "This is a very, very sad day."

Stoudamire, who was project director of international business strategy at Henry Ford Health System before leaving to found consultancy Butterfly Effect Detroit, brought excellence and enthusiasm to his work, Riney said.

"To say he was an idea generator is an understatement," Riney said. "It was very common for him to call me at any hour to say, 'I just drove by this building and I had this idea' ... I would have a point of view about something in the community, and he would challenge me on it. We gave each other permission to be brutally honest with each other, because we knew we could trust each other."

Stoudamire had also worked at the Skillman Foundation, and led the Detroit Historical Museum's award-winning Detroit 67 project, commemorating the 50th anniversary of the 1967 uprising. The exhibit earned national and international honors, winning a National Medal for Museum and Library Service and sharing second place as a "Project of Influence," at the 2019 Best in Heritage Conference, which recognizes best practices in museums and conservation around the globe.

He was a graduate of Cass Technical High School, held a bachelor’s degree from Wayne State University, a master’s from Central Michigan University and attended Harvard Business School’s Young American Leaders program.

One of Stoudamire's last projects was a partnership with the NHL and the Detroit Red Wings called "Learn, Play, Score," an initiative to bring hockey to more than 30,000 Detroit youths through street hockey at 79 schools and 12 parks and rec centers, hockey as a classroom tool, e-sports, scholarships for hockey programs, open skate sessions at Little Caesars Arena and more.

Those who knew Stoudamire said he was committed to restoring Detroit’s glory through his various projects and relationships. He was a man of action, they said.

“He was one of those shining examples of what you can do when you’re committed to making Detroit a better place,” former state Sen. Ian Conyers said. “Marlowe made Detroit a better place. He was doing it.”

Conyers said he was working out of an art shop on Livernois Avenue in high school when he met Stoudamire. Stoudamire, who was about 10 years older, became a mentor to Conyers and other younger people in the neighborhood.

“I never thought of Marlowe as anything but a straight-up Detroit guy,” Conyers said.

As committed as he was to Detroit, Stoudamire was eager to expand his outlook. He received a fellowship through the German Marshall Fund of the United States.

“His trajectory was limitless,” said Ken Harris, president and CEO of the National Business League, Inc.

When Stoudamire was in his 20s, Harris said they gravitated toward each other. They shared interests in entrepreneurship, economics and lifting up the city’s black professionals, said Harris, who sponsored Stoudamire into the Omega Psi Phi fraternity.

“Marlowe had no bounds and no borders. He was truly a transformational figure,” Harris said. “His spirit will be felt not just in Detroit but internationally.”

Donna Givens, president and CEO of the Eastside Community Network, knew Stoudamire for 15 years, and watched him rise to positions of local and international prominence.

"Marlowe was the greatest hype man I knew. He sold Detroiters to Detroiters and Detroit to the world, with a special love for his native east side," Givens said. "Marlowe believed in me, supported me and worked to include me in every good thing he did … he encouraged me with his trademark, 'Stay tuned. It's going to be big.' "

Roster Detroit may be one of Stoudamire’s most enduring efforts. Roster is an initiative to recognize and showcase the talent of black Detroiters, and push back against the narrative that talent has been leaving Detroit and the state. Roster Detroit began as a series of Facebook posts in which Stoudamire would profile friends in his vast network, showing a broad audience Detroiters’ talents and accomplishments.

Stoudamire’s death shows how unprepared the country was for the pandemic, Harris said.

“To see someone that you love so close to you be taken away from us by this particular virus is nothing we all expect, but at the same time it sends a strong message that the community has to take this pandemic seriously.”

Riney echoed those sentiments: "The social distancing some find a nuisance, they should consider their obligation. It is an obligation for us to take this seriously and break the ability for the virus to spread."

But there's hope, he said.

"We have a choice in bringing out the best in each other, or the worst in each other. I'm seeing the vast majority of people bringing out the best in each other. Marlowe's death makes me do an even better job of messaging the distancing we talk about to everybody. Even in this terrible time, there can be amazing lessons we learn as we grow stronger as a community. I can't think of a better gift to Marlowe than that."

Isaac Robinson

Michigan state representative, community advocate, committed public servant

In the final days and weeks of his life, state Rep. Isaac Robinson was fighting to make sure that the most vulnerable people were protected not only from the coronavirus that was ravaging his city, but the economic ruin that was hitting an already struggling Detroit.

State Rep. Isaac Robinson died on March 29. Robinson's district stretched from the east side of Detroit, through Hamtramck and included Wayne Sate University and New Center. State of Michigan

The 44-year-old Detroiter lost his own battle, dying of a suspected COVID-19 infection on March 29. But not before continuing his tireless advocacy for the constituents in his state House district, which stretched from the east side of Detroit, through Hamtramck and included both Wayne State University and the New Center area.

If there was an issue or a problem, he would call for a protest. He repeatedly marched with minimum wage workers in an effort to get a hike in pay and with other activists to demand an end to water shutoffs in the city and more controls on air and water polluters in the city.

On Christmas Day, he served meals to senior citizens. And in the final days of his life, he organized actions to call for more protections for residents and workers who were impacted by the coronavirus. He wanted to make sure that people weren’t evicted from their homes at a time when they were losing their jobs because of the business shutdowns prompted by the spread of coronavirus.

In the wake of his death, friends and colleagues, both Republican and Democrat, recalled his passion and commitment to the underprivileged.

"Isaac was an incredible spirit, a fighter for working people, and a lifelong champion of the City of Detroit,” said Ron Bieber, president of the Michigan AFL-CIO. “He was also a good friend with a big heart. Last time we talked, he was working to make sure we took care of workers who were affected by this awful coronavirus pandemic.”

State Rep. Sherry Gay-Dagnogo, D-Detroit, said her friend was dedicated to helping others, renting a dilapidated bus to round up a crowd to help a candidate running for office in Flint. The bus broke down on I-75 near Great Lakes Crossing in Auburn Hills and the crew never got to help that day in Flint, but that didn't stop Robinson.

"He just had a sense of the urgency of getting things done," Gay-Dagnogo said. "He really did not sleep. He sent constant emails all night long. When I stopped getting those long emails, I knew something was wrong, but he tried to convince me he was OK."

Robinson received an undergraduate degree from the University of Michigan before attending Northwestern University School of Law.

He helped organize health care workers, served as a law clerk for the UAW's legal department, and worked as an aide in the U.S. and state House of Representatives and the Detroit City Council before he won his seat in the state House in 2018, taking over the seat held by his mother, former state Rep. Rose Mary Robinson, D-Detroit.

Brenda Perryman

Metro Detroit fine arts educator, poet, generous mentor

She was quite the class clown so her teacher told Nortrice Banner that if she was going to act a fool, she might as well act for real.

That teacher was Brenda Perryman, drama and English teacher at Southfield High School, and she was not joking.

She told Banner she had to audition for the school play.

Show caption Hide caption Poet Brenda Perryman, 71, taught English and drama from 1970 to 1988 at Highland Park High School and from 1988 to 2010 at Southfield High... Poet Brenda Perryman, 71, taught English and drama from 1970 to 1988 at Highland Park High School and from 1988 to 2010 at Southfield High School, where she also served as Fine Arts Department head for several years. Provided by Brenda Perryman

“I was terrified, but she got me through it and I never acted up in her class again. Once Ms. Perryman made me know that if I put my mind to it, I could do it, I was never afraid again and the stage became my home,” said Banner, who went on to make a living as an actress and comedian.

Banner is one of countless former students and numerous others mourning the loss of Brenda Perryman, who died April 5 at Beaumont Hospital following complications connected to the coronavirus.

Perryman, 71, taught English and drama from 1970 to 1988 at Highland Park High School and from 1988 to 2010 at Southfield High School, where she also served as Fine Arts Department head for several years, said her oldest daughter, Heather Perryman Tank.

“She made everybody feel that there were her favorite,” said Banner, a 1989 graduate of Southfield High. “She was constantly creating and always inspired us to do the same.”

Perryman’s impact extended far beyond the classroom. In addition to teaching, she was a playwright, poet, and radio show host. On her show, “Talk 2 Me With Brenda Perryman” on Comcast 20/TV33 WHPR, she championed numerous local artists, educators, writers and others.

Social media was flooded Monday with a wide array of metro Detroiters who paid homage to her.

“Your dedication to building up the community you served will never be forgotten,’’ wrote U.S. Rep. Brenda Lawrence.

“She loved teaching and she loved her students,” radio show host Lavonia Perryman said. “It went beyond 8 to 3. She had retired, but she was in touch with many of her students up until the time she passed.”

Jonnie Mae Hamilton, a cousin, said she was always giving to her students, her family, and her community.

“She took care of not only her own three children, but she helped raise her sister-in-law’s two children after her sister-in-law passed,” Hamilton said.

In addition to Heather, Brenda Perryman and her ex-husband, Alex Perryman, have a son, Ryan Perryman, and a daughter, Cortnee Perryman.

Daughter Heather said her mother had boundless energy and limitless capacity to love.

“I don’t know how she did everything she did, she just did,” Heather Perryman said.

Perhaps a motto she published on her website explains it: “The world is my playground and the adventure is in the journey.”

Highlights of her performing career, according to the bio on her website, included being a performance poet/speaker for Procter & Gamble’s nationwide “Total You Tour,” presented to thousands of young women on college campuses and in urban convention centers, which led to appearances on the Tom Joyner “Fantastic Voyage” Caribbean Cruise.

She was the only poet selected to write and perform a poem for actor/author Sidney Poitier during one of his Detroit visits and she was the featured poet for “An Evening with Maya Angelou” Detroit’s Orchestra Hall, according to the bio.

A memorial for Perryman will be held at a later date, Heather Perryman said.

Otis Knapp Lee, 'Mr. Fofo'

Detroit business icon, community servant, beloved father

Otis Knapp Lee, a retired Detroit restaurateur widely admired for serving up massive corned-beef sandwiches at his former Midtown deli called Mr. Fofo’s — and beloved for giving away thousands of Thanksgiving turkeys to all who lined up each November around his eatery — died on April 5 of the novel coronavirus.

Lee, 72, died in Garden City Hospital after being diagnosed about 10 days prior, his son Keith Lee said. He had been living with a sister in Detroit’s Old Redford area, Keith Lee said. His father’s death stunned the family because their patriarch seemed unlikely to succumb to the illness, Keith Lee said.

Show caption Hide caption Otis Lee, owner of the former Mr. Fofo's Deli in Detroit, Michigan, is shown in a 1992 photo in front of his store on Second... Otis Lee, owner of the former Mr. Fofo's Deli in Detroit, Michigan, is shown in a 1992 photo in front of his store on Second near Hazelwood. He died Sunday at age 72 of coronavirus, his son said. John Luke, Detroit Free Press

“He was just fine, other than a little arthritis. He was never sickly, right up until this happened,” he said, adding: “We thought he’d live to his 90s.”

From 1973 when the elder Lee opened Mr. Fofo’s Deli until closing it in about 2007, the eatery on Second Avenue at Hazelwood in Detroit’s Midtown area was a diamond in the rough — a thriving eatery in a troubled neighborhood. The spot’s signature dish was what one happy patron recalled as “the largest corned-beef sandwich this side of the planet,” writing in an internet post, after the man learned of the deli’s closing a dozen years ago.

And “Corned Beef” were the words on the windows and also on an overhead sign whose larger wording was, “Thank you Detroit.”

But inside the deli, there was more: giant slabs of cake, memorable macaroni and cheese, as well as sweet potato pie that drew the attention of the fried chicken chain KFC. In 1993, Lee signed a contract to supply samples of his sweet potato pie to KFC branches nationwide. Although he hoped the deal would reap millions and allow him to hire 200 more employees, the challenges of mass production proved too great, his son said.

“For something like that, you need an entirely different staff and management, and it got to be a hassle, so at some point, he pulled back from it,” Keith Lee said.

In a 1992 Free Press article about the restaurateur’s turkey giveaways, Otis Knapp Lee said he lost his parents when he was 6, as his father went to prison for murdering his mother. His grandmother moved up from Alabama, quitting her job to raise Otis and his five siblings, he said. Under her tutelage, he learned about being cordial to strangers, what color schemes look good and all about baking — including her recipe for sweet potato pie.

After attending Northern High School and trying other careers, Lee was 25 when he opened Mr. Fofo’s Deli, named after the nickname of his son Keith, although soon the customers were calling the father the same thing, he told former Free Press columnist Susan Ager. That was just when soul food was making a name for itself in Detroit, attracting whites as well as blacks, and all age groups.

As the business grew, so did its building, right down the block. Along with an unpretentious in-house eatery and booming takeout trade, Mr. Fofo’s also catered some exclusive events, said Keith Lee, who worked with his father off and on, he said.

“Every year for 30 years, we catered Judge Damon Keith’s big soul-food luncheon” and “I’d see everybody there — the governor, the mayor, Anita Baker.”

“And he did the inaugural cakes for Bill Clinton, two years in a row. They were huge,” Lee’s son recalled.

After closing Mr. Fofo’s, the elder Lee moved to Naples, Florida, and lived there several years before moving back to Detroit to assist his son in opening a new Mr. Fofo’s in 2016, at a new location: on Livernois, a block north of 7 Mile Road.

“We closed that about a year ago because of all the construction on Livernois,” his son said, referring to a massive repaving program that caused headaches for many shops and restaurants on the Livernois business strip between 7 and 8 Mile roads, before the project was largely finished last fall.

Now, the family must confront being unable to have a conventional funeral service because of the pandemic.

“We’re talking about a closed funeral,” to be broadcast to friends and family members via Facebook Live, Keith Lee said. Besides his son Keith, the former deli proprietor is survived by four more sons — Dondi, Sean, Derrick and Christopher — and by a daughter Arika Lee — all of metro Detroit.

Divina Accad

Committed health care worker, wife, mother, and grandmother

Divina Accad, a Veterans Affairs nurse who died of complications from COVID-19, was a hero who spent her career looking after sick veterans in Detroit, says her son.

Mark Accad said his mother died on March 30, after 11 days at a hospital in Taylor. Her death was the first known fatality from the coronavirus among health care workers in metro Detroit.

"My mom was a hero," Mark Accad told the Free Press. "What she did was very heroic."

Divina, who went by Debbie, was 72 and had told her son last month that she was contemplating retiring from the John D. Dingell Medical Center. She fell ill on March 20, and was hospitalized with pneumonia.

Accad was able to see her twice in the hospital, but was not allowed to see her a third time.

"The last time I saw her was at the morgue," he said.

She is survived by her husband, William Accad, two other sons, Willie Jr. and Reagan,; a daughter, Lovelet, and five grandchildren.

Mark Accad said his mother was a nurse for as long as he can remember and loved her job. She always wanted to be helpful to others. Divina lived across the street from Mark, her youngest, in Taylor.

Mark Accad said he was using her death to raise awareness of the risks health care workers face during the coronavirus pandemic.

"Please be considerate of other people," he said, adding they could be health care workers.

"She sacrificed her life for our troops. I want my mom to be known for what she did.

"She was truly 'divine.' "

Larry Rathgeb

Lead Chrysler engineer on the groundbreaking Dodge Charger Daytona

Larry Rathgeb “was the guy Ford and GM loved to hate.”

In the world of Chrysler and Dodge race history, that’s a high compliment, courtesy of Rathgeb’s listing in the Mopar Collector’s Guide Hall of Fame, about the West Bloomfield man’s impact on NASCAR.

Show caption Hide caption Larry Rathgeb, right with driver Buddy Baker, just behind him and Charlie Glotzbach, another NASCAR driver on the left, have their photo taken with a... Larry Rathgeb, right with driver Buddy Baker, just behind him and Charlie Glotzbach, another NASCAR driver on the left, have their photo taken with a replica of the car that Rathgeb was the lead engineer for the car that on March 24, 1970, broke one of racing's most significant milestones, the 200 mph closed circuit track lap. Rathgeb family photo

Rathgeb, who died last month of the coronavirus, was the lead engineer for the car that on March 24, 1970, broke one of racing’s most significant milestones, the 200-mph closed circuit lap. During what was billed as a transmission test at the NASCAR track at Talladega, Buddy Baker drove the Dodge Charger Daytona into the history books on the 30th lap. He topped out on the 34th lap, after a brief stop to celebrate, according to Mopar Canada, at 200.447 mph in the blue No. 88.

That Charger, which is in now being restored in North Carolina, made its mark in part because of a design feature that would be as striking now as it was then, a nose cone in front and a tall wing on the rear. It was pretty radical and pretty ugly, at least to some, said Rathgeb’s son, Jeff Rathgeb of Clawson.

Rathgeb died March 22 at Henry Ford West Bloomfield Hospital at age 90, a victim of COVID-19, according to Jeff Rathgeb.

Rathgeb and his wife of 65 years, Phyllis, were both diagnosed with the virus, but she has recovered. Rathgeb was cremated, and the family hopes to have a memorial service this summer.

Jeff Rathgeb said the grieving process has been difficult, in part, because the family, which includes Jeff Rathgeb’s sisters and brother Sue, Pam and Jerry, have not been able to gather together.

Jeff Rathgeb said his dad was a good family man who was a friend to everyone and apparently a bit humble about his contributions. His son said those included convincing Dale Earnhardt to stick with racing after he hired him to test the Chrysler Kit Car and his dad’s work as a suspension and alignment consultant on the Dodge Viper.

“He was far more influential than he ever gave himself credit for. To him, he was just doing a job,” Jeff Rathgeb said. “Chrysler was a real dominant force in the ‘60s and ‘70s in NASCAR and that was in large part due to dad, and he just never thought he did anything special.”

A lot of people see it differently, Jeff Rathgeb said.

Fiat Chrysler Automobiles said Rathgeb made a big impact in the company’s racing history:

“FCA mourns the loss of Larry Rathgeb, who played such a key role in Dodge and Plymouth NASCAR racing success in the 1970s. We extend our deepest sympathies to his family and admirers.”

NASCAR champion Brad Keselowski in a tweet on Rathgeb’s passing offered his own praise:

“This man was one of my heroes. My dad would tell stories about him seemingly every day when I was apprenticing at his race shop.”

Lawrence “Larry” Rathgeb was born Feb. 12, 1930 in Harrison, New York. His family later moved to New Rochelle, and he worked as a mechanic at a local garage. In 1948, he joined the Army and was part of Army Gen. Douglas MacArthur’s motor pool. He also became a member of the general’s honor guard, serving in the Korean War, Jeff Rathgeb said.

He noted that his father kept an autographed photo of the general in his home office.

Rathgeb and his wife married after he got out of the Army. He later came to Michigan and Chrysler through the Chrysler Institute of Engineering after attending what was then the Missouri School of Mines and Metallurgy.

By the mid-'60s, he was head of Chrysler’s “Special Vehicle Group,” according to the Hall of Fame listing. The effort that led to the groundbreaking Charger Daytona was spawned by a battle to outdo Ford and its Torino Talladega, driven by Richard Petty, in the 1969 NASCAR season.

Dwight Jones

Detroit basketball coach, teacher, mentor, Mumford High School icon

Larry Moore talked to his best friend on the phone two weeks before he died. He sounded fine.

The novel coronavirus cut Dwight Jones down that fast.

“I’m in shock,” said Moore, speaking about the man he considered his brother, about the man who coached and taught at Mumford High School in Detroit for nearly 50 years.

We’re all in shock, truthfully.

Not just that Jones is gone, but that with each day that passes during this pandemic, too many of us are getting the phone calls that Moore got. And that we’re not sure where to put the grief.

Or how to process it.

Dwight Jones speaks with player Eric Longmire in this photo from their matchup against Mackenzie in 1981. Mumford High School

Jones and Moore coached boys and girls basketball together at Mumford High School. And while Moore was just a year younger — Jones was 73 — he looked up to the longtime educator. So did hundreds and hundreds of players and students.

Under normal circumstances, a teacher and coach like Jones would be memorialized within a week or two of their death.

But now?

“It's impossible,” said Moore. “You can’t get together.”

Can’t cry together. Can’t pray together. Can’t laugh together. Can’t reminisce together. Can’t pay respects together.

“These are difficult times,” said Moore. “As for the families? I can’t even imagine.”

Jones, said Moore, was the kind of person who will draw 1,000 people to a service, said Moore. He changed that many lives — the school recently named one of its gyms after him.

But a service will have to wait. Which means the grieving process will have to wait. Because coming together after a death is essential to navigating grief.

Thousands of families around the country are navigating death in this new reality, as a crucial step in their grief has been put on hold. What will take its place?

Praying, said Moore.

Word spread quickly after Jones’ death. Darren Nichols learned about it on Facebook, where he, in turn, spread the news with a remembrance.

Nichols played for Jones and Moore in the mid- to late '80s, first on the junior varsity team, then on the varsity team.

“He was tough,” said Nichols, who runs a Detroit podcast, “Beyond the Headlines.” “He was a disciplinarian. And he had to do things his way.”

He also was honest, straightforward and pushed his players and students relentlessly.

“He loved one-liners,” said Nichols.

He once told Nichols that he was slower than Christmas. And Nichols was. And he worked on it. And increased his speed and quickness.

“He genuinely cared about you,” said Nichols, who developed a friendship with Jones after he became an adult, traveling to the Final Four with him and a handful of other area coaches every year. “We used to sit in the lobby and talk about everything.”

Jones loved being around the coaching clinics held the week before the games in each Final Four city, but he also liked the vendor shows, for he was always in search of a good deal on uniforms and equipment for his sports teams at Mumford — he served as the school’s athletic director for a time, too.

“I’ve been crying for two days,” said Moore.

He is not alone. Not in his grief. Not in his yearning to gather to give his “brother” a proper sendoff. Not in his feeling uncertain, even anxious about where this pandemic is headed and when it will stop.

What he knows is that if the coronavirus can take down Coach Jones, it can take down anyone. And “that it doesn’t discriminate … (not) the rich, the poor, the black, the white. It’s an equal opportunity virus.”

Franklin Williams

Detroit fire captain, loyal Lions fan, beloved husband, father and grandfather

As a Detroit fire captain, Franklin Williams worked long, 24-hour shifts. But before he left his family for work, he’d often cook a big meal — tacos with rice and corn or one of his chicken dishes — so they had plenty of food until he returned.

Williams lived all aspects of his life with pride, dedication and thoughtfulness. At work, he’d show up two hours early. As a golfer, he played courses throughout Michigan, sometimes two rounds in a day. On Sundays in the fall, he and his wife tailgated for every Lions home game. They even traveled to London to watch the team.

“We were ride or die fans,” his wife, Shanita Williams, said. “He took pride in whatever he did.”

Williams was hospitalized with COVID-19 and died of a heart attack on April 8 when medical staff attempted to hook him up to a ventilator, Shanita Williams said. He was 57, the first member of the Detroit Fire Department to die from the virus.

“He was known for getting to his shift early, staying late to make sure every one of the men and women working under him had all their needs taken care of,” Mayor Mike Duggan said. “Capt. Williams meant a great deal to this department and he’s going to be terribly missed.”

Williams' death is considered to have occurred in the line of duty and to be the first coronavirus-related death of a firefighter in the state, Thomas Gehart, president of the Detroit Fire Fighters Association, said.

Shanita Williams said her husband enjoyed mentoring younger firefighters and "the brotherhood and sisterhood that they had."

Williams was born and raised in Detroit and graduated from Denby High School.

He met his wife at a Lions tailgate in 2004 and they got married in 2010. Shanita's maiden name is Williams and he would tease her that she could hyphenate her name to Williams-Williams.

He was a homebody by nature and enjoyed yard work and carpentry at their home in Van Buren Township. Before he fell ill on March 24, he had been working on a deck outside his house. “He’s never going to be able to enjoy his deck,” Shanita Williams said wistfully, looking at the partially finished project while giving a phone interview.

Williams attempted to recover at home until breathing problems became more serious. Shanita Williams took him to St. Joseph Mercy Ann Arbor Hospital on April 5.

“That was the last time I saw him,” Shanita Williams said. “I couldn’t hug him. I couldn’t kiss him, nothing.”

The morning he died, Williams sent his wife a text, telling her that if something happened to him, his cellphone would be unlocked and it contained notes for her. When Shanita Williams called the hospital later that afternoon to check on Williams, a nurse told her that he died.

Shanita Williams said planning the funeral and seeing family in the wake of Williams' death has been difficult because of restrictions against large gatherings. On Friday, Shanita Williams said she did not know where her husband's body was — the hospital, the morgue or somewhere else.

“I don’t even know where he is right now,” Shanita Williams said, choking up. “So it’s hard. It’s very hard.”

Franklin Williams is survived by his wife, seven children, his father, Franklin Williams Sr., and four grandchildren.

Free Press reporters Bill Laitner, Eric D. Lawrence, Nancy Kaffer, Joe Guillen, Phoebe Wall Howard, Darcie Moran, Jennifer Dixon, Kathy Gray, Shawn Windsor and Free Press Special Writer Cassandra Spratling, contributed to this report.