Blood Brothers (21 page)

Much as he might deny his involvement with the Nation, his interviews revealed that he had embraced their philosophy. Cassius puzzled writers with a story about how two flocks of birds in Africa fought each other, became temporarily mixed, and then separated. The moral of the story, he explained, was that the “law of nature” created a world where people “should associate with their own kind.”
⁵⁴

Listening to Cassius, reporters detected the Nation's influence on his evolving identity. In the past, he had proclaimed that he would save boxing because he was the most talented and entertaining fighter in the world. Yet as he listened to Muhammad and spent more time with Malcolm, Clay began thinking of himself as divine, graced by the power of Allah. “I am the resurrection. I am the prophet,” he declared, sent to save boxing. Hearing Muhammad and Malcolm preach about black superiority and the power of true believers affirmed what Cassius had always thought about himself: that he
was
the greatest.
⁵⁵

After the conference ended, Cassius traveled to Philadelphia to attend Muhammad's first public lecture of the year. More than six thousand people, including black and white “guests” and reporters, packed the arena at the corner of 45th and Market Streets. Sitting erectly in the third row next to Bundini Brown, Clay listened intently as Muhammad gave a lecture titled “Separation or Death.” The Supreme Minister excoriated the white man, who was “created for the purpose of murdering black people.” If blacks fail to separate from whites, he warned, “they will die.”
⁵⁶

At several points during Muhammad's harangue, Cassius leapt to his feet, loudly applauding his wisdom, while the Jewish Bundini slumped in his chair with a quizzical look on his face. As an auditory learner, Cassius was mesmerized by what he had
heard
at Muslim meetings. Since childhood, when his father repeatedly told him tall tales, he had gravitated toward grand stories, legends, and myths. Muhammad's yarns about the big-head scientist Yacub, the Mother Ship, and white devils excited Cassius the same way that his father aroused his imagination. Muhammad's simple lessons—that all white men were evil and all black men were good—echoed his father's rants. Over and over again, he heard Muslim ministers repeat Muhammad's messages. The oral culture of the Nation emphasized preaching and “fishing,” memorization and recitation, which suited Cassius's communication style. He did not have to prove that he understood Muhammad's doctrine by reading and writing. He could learn about history, politics, and religion simply by listening and talking, an empowering feeling for a man with dyslexia.

Near the end of the rally, an official asked Clay to rise from his seat so that everyone could see that one of the most famous athletes in America was proud to stand with the Nation. At that moment, even before he won the heavyweight championship, Clay became a propaganda tool for the sect. He was a visible symbol of the movement at a time when the black masses were growing increasingly disenchanted with the Nation's failure to improve the conditions of black citizens.
⁵⁷

No one heard these criticisms more often than Malcolm. On the streets of Harlem, blacks complained that the Nation needed to do more;
he
needed to do more. The Black Muslims talked tough, but when it came time to confront the white man, they were nowhere to be found. Malcolm sensed that the disaffection among blacks threatened
the future of the movement. He knew that Muhammad would never change his tactics. What they needed, then, was an infusion of energy and youth, an icon of strong, defiant black manhood, a voice that could be heard above all the noise. So when Cassius Clay received a standing ovation in Philadelphia, a stirring sound that Malcolm had only heard at Madison Square Garden, he knew that he had found the Nation's new symbol, a galvanizing force for the movement.

Yet the boxer was not yet prepared for such a role. After the rally ended, reporters rushed toward him, but he was in no mood to answer their questions. “If you want to interview somebody, interview Malcolm X,” he quipped. “He's really got something important to say.” The newsmen were stunned that, for the first time in memory, Cassius did not want to talk. He departed the arena without saying much, worried that the media's muckraking might derail his shot at the title.
⁵⁸

Clay did not yet realize that Malcolm had bigger plans for him. Nor could he have foreseen that the rally in Philadelphia would be the last time he would ever see Malcolm and Muhammad together. From his third row seat, he witnessed Muhammad bestow a great honor upon Malcolm, naming him national minister. But this was just another test, a challenge for Malcolm to prove that he really was his “most faithful, hard-working minister.” What Cassius saw that day was a mirage, a kingdom in harmony. He heard Muhammad close with an eerily prophetic promise. Malcolm, he said, “will follow me until he dies.”
⁵⁹

Chapter Nine

BACK TO THE GRAVE

            
How can you justify being nonviolent in Mississippi and Alabama, when your churches are being bombed and your little girls are being murdered?

—MALCOLM X

“H
istory,”
Newsweek
declared, “would mark it: the summer of 1963 was a time of revolution, the season when 19 million U.S. Negroes demanded payment of the century-old promissory note called the Emancipation Proclamation.” The revolution of 1963 was rooted in the rich soil of the South, where overworked field hands bristled under a sharecropping system that locked them into permanent poverty. The revolution could be seen in the northern slums, where blacks protested dilapidated housing, police brutality, and substandard wages. It could be heard in the mourners' cries at Ronald Stokes's funeral, in the prayers of Martin Luther King, and in the sermons of Malcolm X. From the churches of Birmingham to the streets of Harlem, a “revolution of rising expectations” swept the country. It was a revolution teetering between frustration and faith, despair and hope, nonviolence and bloodshed.
¹

In Detroit, Malcolm talked about the revolution. Reverend Albert Cleage Jr., a Black Nationalist Christian minister, had invited him to deliver the keynote address at the Northern Grassroots Leadership Conference in November. Organized by the Group on Advanced Leadership (GOAL), the conference attracted a wide range of radicals, militants, Marxists, and socialists who viewed Malcolm as a leader of Black Nationalism.
²

On November 10, Richard Henry, GOAL president, greeted two thousand blacks, most of whom were not Muslims, into the King Solomon Baptist Church with a grand announcement: “Welcome to the revolution!” At the conference, organizers proclaimed support for the all-black Freedom Now Party, the principle of armed self-defense, and solidarity with “the colored oppressed people of the world.” From the pulpit, Malcolm delivered his “Message to the Grassroots,” a Nationalist manifesto that would endure as a source of inspiration for Black Power activists over the next decade.
³

He began by reminding the audience that what united them—with each other and with the dark-skinned people in Africa and Asia—was resistance to racial oppression. History, he said, taught that only bloody revolution would end the long suffering of black people. The nonviolent “Negro revolution” led by King and other integrationist liberals, he insisted, was not a revolution at all. A real revolution “is bloody, revolution is hostile, revolution knows no compromise, revolution overturns and destroys everything that gets in its way.”
⁴

Marches, boycotts, and sit-ins were not revolutionary tactics. “Whoever heard of a revolution where they lock arms,” he asked, “singing ‘We Shall Overcome'? You don't do that in a revolution. You don't do any singing, you're too busy swinging.”
⁵

Malcolm's speech gave voice to the growing anger in black America. It also reflected his evolving global perspective, linking the black freedom struggle in America to the anticolonialist movement in Africa. Between 1960 and 1963, twenty-four African nations wrested independence from Western colonists. For Malcolm, these revolutions were successful because black people demanded land of their own and “engaged in a bloody battle.” But, he complained, “Negro” civil rights leaders were not demanding land. “These Negroes aren't asking for any nation—they're trying to crawl back to the plantation.”
⁶

Listening to him speak that evening, activist Gloria Richardson recognized that Malcolm sounded more like a freedom fighter than a disciple of Elijah Muhammad. He hardly said anything about religion or the Nation of Islam. His speech was not written to build the Nation or praise the teachings of Muhammad. Instead, Malcolm's “Message to the Grassroots” announced his own vision for a mass movement that
unified all black people, regardless of religion. It represented an ideological break from Muhammad, a fusion of Black Nationalism and internationalism, and the declaration of his political independence. That night in Detroit, Richardson “wondered how long it would be before he would break with [the Nation].”
⁷

I
F
M
ALCOLM
'
S LOYALTY
to Elijah Muhammad was in doubt, Cassius Clay's was not. Five days after Malcolm spoke in Detroit, Clay was spotted in New York with three burly Black Muslim security guards. A few days before he was scheduled to film an appearance for
The Jack Paar Tonight Show
, the Selective Service notified him that he was required to get a physical examination, which would determine his eligibility for the armed services. But Clay wasn't worried about wearing a uniform or carrying a rifle. “I've just spent four hours with God today,” he said after leaving Mosque No. 7. “He's going to fix it so I won't have to serve in the Army.”
⁸

Clay found his sanctuary visiting with Malcolm in Harlem at Mosque No. 7, the Shabazz Restaurant, and the Hotel Theresa, where he was staying. Since Clay returned from London that summer, his relationship with Malcolm had deepened. Spending more time in New York, he snuck into meetings with Malcolm. He solicited his mentor's advice about all things, spiritual and professional. “Malcolm,” he said later, “was very intelligent, with a good sense of humor, a wise man. When he talked, he held me spellbound for hours.”
⁹

In their private moments together, they forged a friendship, a bond, a brotherhood. Clay adored Malcolm and treated him like an older brother. He swelled with pride whenever the minister was near. Malcolm treated him like a man whose thoughts mattered, not like an athlete whose only worth was his body. Cassius, he observed, was “sensitive, very humble, yet shrewd.”
¹⁰

Studying him, Malcolm recognized that the thoughtful boxer had “a plan in his public clowning.” That plan was on full display when Clay filmed an appearance for
The Jack Paar Tonight Show.
Before introducing him, Paar mentioned that Clay put on quite “a wild act,” but he found him to be a genuinely “well-mannered young man.” Paar told the audience that offstage, Clay spoke “very quiet and sensibly.” The fighter's clowning, he suggested, was only an act.
¹¹

Paar's program was known for pairing disparate characters in humorous settings. When Cassius walked onstage, he met Liberace, the flamboyant musician known for his glittering costumes and outrageous personality. When Cassius shook Liberace's hand, he buckled his knees, feigning injury at the strength of the effeminate musician's strong grip, provoking laughter from the audience.

Clay reminded Paar that not only was he the “resurrection of the fight game” but someday he would also become a “great singer” too. After he told the host about his upcoming album with Columbia Records, Paar suggested that he and Liberace perform a song together. It seemed like an odd pairing—a black boxer and a closeted gay pianist—but the two were perfectly suited to share the stage. Both men thought of themselves as entertainers and they shared a love for audiences. Liberace sat down at the grand piano, then he abruptly rose from the bench and told Cassius to step aside so that the television viewers could see his candelabra. The crowd roared with laughter as Cassius and Liberace exchanged smiles. Finally, the musician deadpanned to the self-promoting boxer, “For a change, do the one about you.”

After performing a tune, they delivered an encore:

       
Clay comes out to meet Liston and Liston starts to retreat,

       
If Liston goes back an inch farther he'll end up in a ringside seat.

       
Clay swings with his left, Clay swings with his right,

       
Look at young Cassius carry the fight.

       
Liston keeps backing, but there's not enough room,

       
It's a matter of time till Clay lowers the boom.

       
Now Clay lands with a right, what a beautiful swing,

       
And the punch raises the Bear clean out of the ring.

       
Liston is still rising and the ref wears a frown,

       
For he can't start counting till Sonny comes down.

       
Now Liston is disappearing from view, the crowd is going frantic,

       
But radar stations have picked him up somewhere over the Atlantic.

       
Who would have thought when they came to the fight,

       
That they'd witness the launching of a human satellite?

       
Yes the crowd did not dream, when they put up the money,

       
That they would see a total eclipse of the Sonny.
¹²

C
LAY
'
S PERFORMANCE WON
over an audience outside the world of boxing. While reporters hounded him about his association with the Black Muslims, Clay distanced himself publicly from the controversial sect. Instead of talking about his relationship with Malcolm or Elijah, he continued to craft a nonthreatening image—an image of a smiling, jovial “Negro,” an entertainer cracking harmless jokes and reciting poems, an act encouraged by his white managers. But the real Cassius Clay—the man who would become Muhammad Ali—could hardly hide his enthusiasm for the most controversial black organization in the country.

Dan Parker, a prominent columnist for the
New York Journal-American
, reported that while Clay was in New York, he visited corporate offices on Madison Avenue proudly wearing an NOI signet ring, a clear “badge of membership,” and showed people a picture of himself with Elijah Muhammad. Although Clay maintained that he had not joined the Nation, Parker and other sportswriters no longer doubted the boxer's membership. Since July, when a reporter from the
Chicago Sun-Times
caught him leaving the Muslims' school, Clay's association with the Nation had provoked suspicion that “he had been brain-washed by the Black Muslims.”
¹³

The Louisville Sponsoring Group shared the reporter's concerns and worked to disentangle Cassius from Malcolm. Job one, they thought, was to get their fighter out of New York City and away from Mosque No. 7. Since Cassius had returned from London, he had been markedly distant from his wealthy, white benefactors, reluctant to return to training under Dundee in Miami. Bill Faversham talked to Clay's mother, Odessa, explaining the need to persuade Cassius to return to Miami. Promoter Bill King pitched in as well, explaining to Cassius that if he didn't train in Miami there would be no Liston fight.
¹⁴

He reluctantly returned south, but he still chafed under the LSG's guidance. W. S. Cutchins, a prominent member of the group and president of Brown & Williamson Tobacco, reported that Cassius wanted larger paydays—“$200,000 after taxes” was the number that he fixed on—and no more television appearances, which he had come to consider undignified. “Fighting, not acting,” was his profession, he asserted, and even if the LSG upped his take for TV appearances to 60 percent, he was still not interested. Suddenly, it seemed, Cassius no
longer wanted to jive on stage or sing songs with Liberace. He didn't want to play the clown anymore.
¹⁵

The LSG suspected that the Muslims, one in particular, had persuaded the young fighter to ignore the counsel of his white advisers. The group feared that they no longer spoke for Cassius because Malcolm X did. Malcolm didn't want Clay singing and dancing on television like Stepin Fetchit. If Cassius was ever going to become a freedom fighter like Malcolm, he had to keep his gloves on outside the ring as well.

Cutchins's solution to separating Clay from the Muslims was to schedule nontitle matches for him every few months. Then, between training in Miami and boxing in various cities, he would not have time for Malcolm. Only if they followed that plan could they get “just about 75% back to our normal relationship with him.”
¹⁶

Yet Cassius kept slipping away from Miami to New York. There he met with an associate of Malcolm's who would become his new business manager. Archie Robinson, a slight, bespectacled, soft-spoken man not much older than Clay, had first met the young boxer a few months earlier when Malcolm introduced them at the Muslims' luncheonette. Malcolm worried that Cassius needed protection from manipulative white men who exploited black boxers and knew that he could trust Archie to keep an eye on him.
¹⁷

But Archie wasn't interested in wasting his time on the boisterous boxer. A former road manager for The Platters, Robinson did not know anything about the fight game or Clay except that he found him a bit obnoxious. “He's a clown,” he said. “I don't play with amateurs.” Malcolm's tone turned serious. He was not asking for a favor. He was giving him an assignment. “It's not about boxing,” he said. “One day this kid is going to be heavyweight champion of the world, and he's going to embrace the Nation of Islam. Do you understand what that could mean?”
¹⁸