As he often does when he feels at home in someone else’s living room, Muhammad turned on the television. A movie about Vietnam starring Gene Hackman was showing. The last twenty minutes were unremitting violence and gore.
“I made a wise decision when I didn’t go to Vietnam,” Ali told one of the other guests. “All that killing was wrong.”
Then he switched to CNN, which had a brief feature on a presidential pardon given by Bill Clinton to a forty-five-pound turkey. Instead of winding up on someone’s dinner table, the turkey would spend the rest of its years on a petting farm in Virginia.
Ali was asked if he thinks it’s right for people to kill animals to eat when other types of food are available. He considered the issue and responded, “Everything that God made, he made for a purpose. I don’t believe in hunting just to kill an animal. That bothers me. But I think it’s all right to eat animals like turkeys and fish and cows.”
Connye Richardson had been cooking for days, and it seemed as though every one of God’s foods was served. If Muhammad is truly planning to fight again in Madison Square Garden, this wasn’t the place to slim down. But it was a good Thanksgiving. Ali was both happy and in a reflective mood as the day drew to a close.
“God has been good to me,” Muhammad said in the car going back to the hotel. “I’m thankful I’ve got a good wife and nine healthy children. I’m thankful I was three-time heavyweight champion of the world. I’m thankful I live in a country like America. I’m thankful I’ve been able to travel and meet people all over the world. I’m thankful that, even though I haven’t fought for fifteen years, people still remember me. I have a good life. I’ve got a lot to be thankful for.”
PENSACOLA, FLORIDA
FEBRUARY 27, 1997
As noted earlier in this volume, I spent part of 1996 and 1997 traveling around the country with Muhammad Ali, speaking to students about tolerance and understanding. On February 27, 1997, our travels took us to Pensacola, Florida. The plan called for Muhammad and myself to address 7,600 students at the Pensacola Civic Center on the subject of HEALING. But a group of Christian fundamentalists threatened legal action to halt the event, claiming that our appearance was a plot between a Muslim and a Jew to teach heresy to their children. For several weeks, a controversy raged. Then, inexorably, the community came together in support of our visit. Florida Governor Lawton Chiles attended the assembly and praised its purpose. The event was an enormous success. My own remarks to the students of Pensacola follow.
As most of you know, Muhammad Ali and I have co-authored a book about bigotry and prejudice. Early in the book, there’s a statement by Muhammad that has led to some controversy in Pensacola, and I’d like to discuss that quotation with you. Muhammad’s words were as follows:
My mother was a Baptist. She believed Jesus was the son of God, and I don’t believe that. But even though my mother had a religion different from me, I believe that on Judgment Day my mother will be in Heaven. There are Jewish people who lead good lives; and when they die, I believe they’re going to heaven. If you’re a good Muslim, if you’re a good Christian, if you’re a good Jew; it doesn’t matter what religion you are; if you’re a good person, you’ll receive God’s blessing.
The words I just read to you reflect Muhammad’s belief that all people serve the same God; we just serve Him in different ways. Obviously, there are people who disagree with Muhammad’s view. They believe that the only way a person can go to Heaven is to embrace Jesus Christ as his, or her, Savior. That belief is their right. But some people in this community have carried their beliefs a step further by trying to halt this assembly.
I got a telephone call recently from one of these people. She didn’t give her name. Instead, she began by demanding, “How dare you question the word of God?” I told her, “I’m not questioning the word of God. I’m questioning your ability to interpret the word of God for me, because I believe in a loving God, who bestows His blessings upon all people.” That was the end of the conversation, because she hung up.
I want to make it as clear as I possibly can that no one on this stage today is here to challenge what any of you believe insofar as it relates to your own personal religious convictions. I hope you like your religion and are fully satisfied with it. Muhammad and I like our respective religions too. All we ask is that you keep in mind that we all have the same Creator, and all of us have to work to get along. Our message is simple. Let’s understand each other and be tolerant of our differences, whether those differences relate to our religion, the color of our skin, the language we speak, the country we come from, or any of the other sources of diversity that sometimes divide us.
As you go through life, you will find that your education, your jobs, your personal relationships, and your government, are all dependent in varying degree upon the will of others. That’s the nature of living. No one goes through this world on their own. But there’s one area where each of you will have total control over your own destiny. Each and every one of you has complete control over your own moral fiber. That means you can be as bigoted and prejudiced and hateful—or as tolerant and understanding—as you want to be. Hate is ugly. It’s ugly when it’s shouted out on the street. And it’s ugly—it will eat you up and destroy you—when it lies in your heart. So if you hate, let go of it.
It’s unlikely that any of you will ever become as good a fighter as Muhammad Ali or have the same impact on history as Muhammad Ali. But in your own way, each of you can become as good a person as Muhammad Ali. All you have to do is take the best qualities that people like Muhammad have to offer and make them part of your own individual personalities. But don’t stop with famous people. There’s a horrible misconception in our society that just because someone is famous or a big celebrity that that person is a hero or a good role model. And that’s not necessarily the case. Some celebrities are lousy role models.
But if you look around, you’ll find people in your everyday lives who are wonderful role models. I’m sure there are teachers in your schools who care about you and work hard to give you the best education they possibly can. Those teachers are wonderful role models. I would hope that all of you have one or more relatives who love you and provide for you and do everything they can to give you good values. Those relatives are wonderful role models. And whether you know it or not, each of you is a role model. There are kids in grade school who look up to you and want to be like you. Many of you have younger brothers and sisters who feel the same way. And as role models, you young men and women have a responsibility to be the best people you can possibly be.
Focus on what’s best in yourselves. Learn to treat other people with dignity and respect. Learn how to love.
Thank you.
A DAY OF REMEMBRANCE
1997
On June 24, 1997, Muhammad Ali awoke in the nation’s capital at 5:00 A.M. He said his prayers, ate a light breakfast, and read quietly from the Qur’an. Then, accompanied by his wife Lonnie and several friends, he left the Hay-Adams Hotel and drove to a unique destination—the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum.
The museum was not yet open to the public when Ali arrived at 7:45 A.M. He had come early because he feared his presence during normal visiting hours would cause a commotion unsuited to the decorum of his surroundings. Several staff members greeted Muhammad and his party when they arrived. There were introductions, and the tour began.
The mission of the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum is to inform, honor, and inspire. More specifically, it is designed to present the history of the persecution and murder of six million Jews and millions of other victims of Nazi tyranny; to commemorate those who died; and to encourage visitors to contemplate the moral implications of their own civic responsibilities.
Ali began by assimilating facts as he walked through the museum . . . One-and-a-half million children were exterminated in the Holocaust . . . It wasn’t just Jews . . . Gypsies, the physically disabled, mentally handicapped, and other “undesirables” we
re also victims . . . Books were burned, synagogues destroyed . . .
As the tour progressed, Muhammad began to draw parallels between the Holocaust and the slavery that his own ancestors endured. Ali has spoken often about how black Americans were robbed of their African names and given slave names instead. Now he learned of people whose Jewish names were replaced by numbers tattooed on their forearms. Standing in a boxcar used to transport Jews to death camps in Poland, he imagined himself in the cargo hold of a slave ship two centuries earlier.
Midway through the tour, Ali came to a glass wall bearing the names of thousands of communities eradicated during the Holocaust.
“Each of these names is a whole town?” Muhammad asked incredulously.
“Yes.”
“I never knew it was that bad.”
The tour went on . . . A pile of shoes taken from the dead at Majdanek . . . Bales of hair cut from the heads of concentration camp victims . . . A crude metal table where bodies were placed and gold teeth extracted with pliers . . . Grainy films of nude bodies piled high being bulldozed into trenches.
Ninety minutes after the tour began, Ali stopped to read a quotation in silver letters on a gray wall:
First they came for the socialists.
And I did not speak out because I was not a socialist.
Then they came for the trade unionists.
And I did not speak out because I was not a trade unionist.
Then they came for the Jews.
And I did not speak out because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for me.
And there was no one left to speak for me.
Finally, Ali entered the Hall of Remembrance and placed a white rose beside the museum’s eternal flame.
During the course of his life, Muhammad Ali has taken many courageous stands. But his presence at the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum on June 24, 1997, is among his most important statements of principle.
The victims’ faces on this particular morning were Jewish. But they could just as easily have been faces from Cambodia, Bosnia, or Rwanda. By virtue of his presence, Ali demonstrated once again his solidarity with all victims of persecution. And he joined his spirit with millions of Holocaust victims and with the survivors who remember them.
REMEMBERING JOE FRAZIER
2012
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about Joe Frazier, who died one year ago, on November 7, 2011.
I met Joe at the Sahara Hotel in Las Vegas on December 1, 1988. I’d just signed a contract to become Muhammad Ali’s official biographer. Two days of taping were under way for a documentary entitled Champions Forever that featured Ali, Frazier, George Foreman, Ken Norton, and Larry Holmes. I was there to conduct interviews for my book.
On the first morning, I sat at length with Foreman; the pre-lean-mean-grilling-machine model. George was twenty months into a comeback that was widely regarded as a joke. Six more years would pass before he knocked out Michael Moorer to regain the heavyweight throne.
“There was a time in my life when I was sort of unfriendly,” George told me. “Zaire was part of that period. I was going to knock Ali’s block off, and the thought of doing it didn’t bother me at all. After the fight, for a while I was bitter. I had all sorts of excuses. The ring ropes were loose. The referee counted too fast. The cut hurt my training. I was drugged. I should have just said the best man won, but I’d never lost before so I didn’t know how to lose. I fought that fight over in my head a thousand times. Then, finally, I realized I’d lost to a great champion; probably the greatest of all time. Now I’m just proud to be part of the Ali legend. If people mention my name with his from time to time, that’s enough for me. That, and I hope Muhammad likes me, because I like him. I like him a lot.”
Then I moved on to Ken Norton, who shared a poignant memory.
“When it counted most,” Norton reminisced, “Ali was there for me. In 1986, I was in a bad car accident. I was unconscious for I don’t know how long. My right side was paralyzed; my skull was fractured; I had a broken leg, a broken jaw. The doctors said I might never walk again. For a while, they thought I might not ever even be able to talk. I don’t remember much about my first few months in the hospital. But one thing I do remember is, after I was hurt, Ali was one of the first people to visit me. At that point, I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to live or die. That’s how bad I was hurt. Like I said, there’s a lot I don’t remember. But I remember looking up, and there was this crazy man standing by my bed. It was Ali, and he was doing magic tricks for me. He made a handkerchief disappear; he levitated. I said to myself, if he does one more awful trick, I’m gonna get well just so I can kill him. But Ali was there, and his being there helped me. So I don’t want to be remembered as the man who broke Muhammad Ali’s jaw. I just want to be remembered as a man who fought three close competitive fights with Ali and became his friend when the fighting was over.”
Larry Holmes held out for cash, so our conversation was short: “I’m proud I learned my craft from Ali,” Larry said. “I’m prouder of sparring with him when he was young than I am of beating him when he was old.”
End of conversation.
That left Joe.
Frazier wouldn’t talk with me because I was “Ali’s man.” But at an evening party after the second day of taping, Joe approached me. He’d been drinking. And the bile spewed out:
“I hated Ali. God might not like me talking that way, but it’s in my heart. First two fights, he tried to make me a white man. Then he tried to make me a nigger. How would you like it if your kids came home from school crying because everyone was calling their daddy a gorilla? God made us all the way we are. He made us the way we talk and look. And the way I feel, I’d like to fight Ali-Clay-whatever-his-name-is again tomorrow. Twenty years, I’ve been fighting Ali, and I still want to take him apart piece by piece and send him back to Jesus.”
Joe saw that I was writing down every word. This was a message he wanted the world to hear.
“I didn’t ask no favors of him, and he didn’t ask none of me. He shook me in Manila; he won. But I sent him home worse than he came. Look at him now. He’s damaged goods. I know it; you know it. Everyone knows it; they just don’t want to say. He was always making fun of me. I’m the dummy; I’m the one getting hit in the head. Tell me now; him or me, which one talks worse now? He can’t talk no more, and he still tries to make noise. He still wants you to think he’s the greatest, and he ain’t. I don’t care how the world looks at him. I see him different, and I know him better than anyone. Manila really don’t matter no more. He’s finished, and I’m still here.”
Twenty-one months later, when I finished writing Muhammad Ali: His Life and Times, I journeyed to Ali’s home in Berrian Springs, Michigan. Lonnie Ali (Muhammad’s wife), Howard Bingham (Ali’s longtime friend and personal photographer), and I spent a week reading every word of the manuscript aloud. By agreement, there would be no censorship. Our purpose in reading was to ensure the factual accuracy of the book.
In due course, Lonnie read Frazier’s quote aloud.
There was a silent moment.
“Did you hear that, Muhammad?” Lonnie asked.
Ali nodded.
“How do you feel, knowing that hundreds of thousands of people will read that?”
“It’s what he said,” Muhammad answered.
Ali’s thoughts ended that chapter of the book.
“I’m sorry Joe Frazier is mad at me. I’m sorry I hurt him. Joe Frazier is a good man. I couldn’t have done what I did without him, and he couldn’t have done what he did without me. And if God ever calls me to a holy war, I want Joe Frazier fighting beside me.”
On the final day of our reading, Muhammad, Lonnie, Howard, and I signed a pair of boxing gloves to commemorate the experience. I took one of the gloves home with me. Howard took the other.
The following spring, I was in Philadelphia for a black-tie gala celebrating the twentieth anniversary of the historic first fight between A
li and Frazier. This was Joe’s night. It was a fight he’d won. But his hatred for all things Ali was palpable.
Early in the evening, Howard suggested that I pose for a photo with Muhammad and Joe. I stood between them. Joe wrapped his arm around my waist in what I thought was a gesture of friendship. Then, just as Howard snapped the photo, Joe dug his fingers into the flesh beneath my ribs.
It hurt like hell.
I tried to pry his hand away.
You try prying Joe Frazier’s hand away.
When Joe was satisfied that he’d inflicted sufficient pain, he smirked at me and walked off.
Muhammad Ali: His Life and Times was published in June 1991. Joe decided that I’d treated him fairly. In the years that followed, when our paths crossed, he was warm and friendly. A ritual greeting evolved between us.
Joe would smile and say, “Hey! How’s my Jewish friend?”
I’d smile and say, “Hey! How’s my Baptist friend?”
Fast-forward to January 7, 2005. Joe was in my home. We were eating ice cream in the kitchen.
Three boxing gloves were hanging on the wall. The first two were worn by Billy Costello in his victorious championship fight against Saoul Mamby. That fight has special meaning to me. It’s the subject of the climactic chapter in The Black Lights, my first book about boxing.
The other glove bore the legend:
Muhammad Ali
Lonnie Ali
Howard L. Bingham
Thomas Hauser
9/10—9/17/90
Joe asked about the gloves. I explained their provenance. Then he said something that surprised me.
“Do you remember that time I gave you the claw?”
“I remember,” I said grimly.
“I’m sorry, man. I apologize.”
Muhammad Ali: A Tribute to the Greatest Page 13
