by Hana Ali
“I was a cheerleader for a while. I was on the pep squad. In boarding school, I was on the softball team, volleyball and basketball team. I’m a pretty good athlete. I was in the band. I played the clarinet. In high school, I was Prom Queen. I did not date very much. I had one boyfriend all through high school. He lived down the block, but when I got into my senior year we sort of outgrew each other.”
It’s a good thing they did. A few years after Mom met Dad, she found out her high school boyfriend and his new girlfriend were the victims of a random shooting.
“Were your parents strict with you?”
“They really didn’t have to be. They were, but not overly. People always felt I was older because of the way I carried myself. I always seemed more mature. I don’t remember being pushed to study, or to do what I had to. This sounds like bragging, but ever since I was in boarding school I never made anything but straight As. That was bad for my brothers and sisters. I was always the example to them. I was the role model. Something that was very important to me happened when I was sixteen. I won a scholarship to work in a hospital over the summer. I was serious about being a doctor. My favorite part was working in the emergency room. We were supposed to work there a week. I stayed a month. I really got into it.”
“Before Ali, was there any important boy or man in your life?”
“No, I just had the boyfriend I mentioned, but I began to lose interest in him before I met Muhammad.”
“You are very, very beautiful. You say that when you were young your head was filled with academic thoughts. Were you treated in any special way because of your looks?”
“I never even thought about the way I looked until I went to boarding school. My family never made me aware of being special. It was at school that the kids started to compliment me, but you know how it is when you are growing up—you think you are ugly. I thought I was too tall. I was also shy, and I think the attention made me even more shy, because I had the feeling people were staring at me.”
“Throughout high school, here in Los Angeles, what kind of a life did you lead?”
“I remember taking science courses in preparation for college, I was active in afterschool clubs and events, and I was generally home studying. I didn’t go out very much, and when I graduated I was accepted at several eastern colleges too. I didn’t go because of the weather, and I ended up at USC. I am a very precise person. I probably got it from my science courses, but my brothers and sisters are like that too, so it must have also been my upbringing. I should mention the colleges, because my parents were so proud of them. I had four-year scholarships wherever I applied. I was accepted at USC, UCLA, Princeton, and Yale. What is ironic is that I ended up in the bad weather with Muhammad anyway.”
“What about your religious background?”
“We were practicing Catholics. I went to Catholic schools. Elementary and boarding.”
“How did you change from being a Catholic to a Muslim?”
“When I met Muhammad, he said I was already a Muslim. It is just the way you live. I think he said to you that I’m a better one than he is. [Like him] I don’t smoke or drink or eat pork—I live very decently, as I did before. There was no ceremony. My family is still Catholic. All religions are really the same; if you are a good person, you are a good person in any religion.”
“How old were you when you began college, and what was your major?”
“I was seventeen and was studying pre-med. Even though the first couple of years are general study, I was taking all science courses. I was doing very well; I was on the dean’s list. I went there for one year and was about to begin the second year, and I met him.”
“How did you meet him?”
“I had a summer job at a department store. I heard they were looking for two representatives. One for Ali and one for George Foreman, whom he was going to fight at that time. It was a contest, and I had done some modeling work before. I had won several titles, and did some department-store modeling. The titles were school titles, like Prom Queen, Girl of the Month.”
“Did you think about going into modeling and giving up your education?”
“No, never. It was just a diversion. I was never serious about it.”
“Didn’t you feel very special, winning titles for your looks and receiving such high grades?”
“I guess that is why I am the way that I am. I don’t try to compete with Muhammad. If I didn’t really feel like something before I married him, I could see really feeling like a nothing. I think that is what he experienced before—a constant sense of competition. He does not have that with me. I’ll never try to prove I’m someone with him. I don’t have to. I could go out and try to be famous, but I don’t need to. Fame isn’t important to me. I might want to do some commercials just for fun, as I did modeling in school as a diversion.”
“Let’s go back to when you met Ali . . .”
“I was interviewed by a group [Booker Griffin, who ran the fight promotions from their West Coast office] who wanted several girls who would represent [Foreman and Ali] for a poster to advertise the fight. We were going around showing people slides and trying to get people interested in going to Zaire, Africa, for the fight. We went to a boxing exhibition [in Salt Lake City], and that’s where I met him. We picked him up at the airport, drove him to his hotel . . .”
“How did he react to you?”
“He ignored me when he first met me. If you are ever around, you will notice when he meets people, he likes to clown; it depends on his mood, but he likes to grab and hug people—that was a lot different from the way he treated me. He was doing that to everyone else but me. Later I asked him why, and he said he was afraid of me. He said he was afraid he might say the wrong thing. Actually, I didn’t realize it then.”
“What was your first impression of him?”
“I was impressed with him—he seemed to have high morals. I admired him.”
“How did you really get to know him?”
“I went to Africa with a separate group; he was already there. We just got to know each other by talking and being around. [George Foreman cut his eye, so the fight was postponed a month. Dad invited my mother to the presidential compound, where he was training, in N’Sele.] By the end of the month, we had begun to care for each other . . . He told me that his marriage was really over. Before I would let myself get involved, I checked with those close to him to see if it was true. You know men lie! I was convinced that his marriage was over emotionally, and they were going to get a divorce.”
“I know he doesn’t want us to talk about that whole period before your marriage, so we won’t. You were married after Hana was born. Your life must have changed radically as soon as you started seeing him, even before you actually married him?”
“We have known each other for five years. Our youngest child, Laila, is thirteen months old. Hana is two and a half. In the past five years things have been so frantic that I don’t feel as if we have begun to settle down. Perhaps we can’t for quite a while.”
“What did it feel like, being a mother at such an early age? You were just twenty.”
“Well, when I realized that my plans about my future had changed, and that my future was Muhammad, I was very anxious to have a child. I was very happy when I knew I was going to have Hana. I wanted children, and I just had them and they fit in. I did not think about it that much. We travel with them, and when we can’t I have family and responsible people who stay with them when we are away.”
“Did you have any problems about their being so close in age?”
“Hana seems to have been troubled by Laila’s presence. She was drinking out of a cup, and now she has gone back to the bottle, and in general reverted to some baby ways that she had outgrown. They are very attached to each other—it will work out. I want the children to be proud, but I don’t want them to be arrogant and think they are better than anyone else because their father is Muhammad Ali. I know that is a very hard job. When we come here to my m
other’s, the kids just seem to come alive. They are pretty good at home [the Woodlawn house in Chicago]. We travel so much with them, but this house is so small, they do much better here.”
My father enters the room.
“Hello,” said Marilyn. “Are you going to join us?”
“I’ll just sit around,” said Dad.
“How many homes do you have?”
Dad looked at my mother. “Tell her how since you’ve been with me,” he said, “you haven’t been able to settle down and fix up a home. How you never know where you are . . .”
“Yeah,” said Marilyn, “it must be crazy being married to him.”
“It is!” said Mom. “We have several places—”
Dad interjects. “Our summer home is here in California [they had just purchased Fremont Place, but we had not moved in]; our main home is in Chicago.”
“In the past five years,” said Mom, “he’s been fighting ever since I met him. So he’s training most of the time. We live in one training camp for three months, then move to the city where he is fighting, and then go home for a couple of weeks, then in between he has appearances to make.”
“What do you do when he is so busy with his life?”
“I just take care of the kids. I play tennis; I love birds and I collect them. When I was pregnant with Hana, I raised farm animals just to keep busy. I like to paint. I do oils and watercolors. I have several at the farm. I did a lot of painting there while I was carrying Hana . . . My painting is literal; I don’t do abstracts. I like the old-master type of paintings.”
Dad gets up. “Your questions are all right. I’m going upstairs.”
“He’s so tired that he doesn’t care,” said Mom, laughing.
“I won’t take advantage . . .” replied Marilyn.
“I have very little free time,” said Mom. “We are always traveling. I love antiques and I go window shopping a lot. I love to admire beautiful old things and paintings. Every once in a while I see something I really love and I will buy it. I am anxious to be able to decorate our new home here, in California.”
“What are some of the problems with all the fame, which is different from that of most celebrities? His fame is worldwide.”
“I’m sort of shy, so I am a little self-conscious in crowds, people staring at us. Sometimes when we are tired and trying to spend some quiet time I wish people wouldn’t come around, but there are always people around. I don’t mind very much; he doesn’t mind at all . . .”
“You are very striking and very intelligent, and you would have pursued a career in medicine had you not married him. Does it bother you that all the attention is going to him?”
“Not at all. I prefer it that way. I’m getting out of my shyness—I guess I have to—but I am more comfortable with his being the center of attraction.”
“I am interviewing you here in your mother’s house, a simple place by comparison to where you could be staying. I know your family is very important to you. Do you ever worry that all the glamour might take you away from your roots?”
“No, I have never felt that way, or even thought about it. When we are in town we enjoy being here . . .”
“Hello again,” Marilyn said to my father as he walked back into the room.
“We feel the family—grandmother and father and brothers and sisters—should not be deprived from seeing the children,” said Dad. “The family feeling is very important. Hana knows all the names. We have to be together as much as we can . . .”
“Veronica, how do you handle jealousy?” Marilyn looked at my father. “Is that okay to ask?”
“Yes, that is okay. She can talk about that,” said Dad.
“When I first met him, I had to get used to him hugging everyone. Now I’m used to it. I can’t say I like it, but I try not to pay attention to it. It doesn’t make me angry, but if I had a choice I would rather he didn’t do it. But it is his personality. Sometimes I just get disgusted with the boldness of the women today. Even in front of me, they sort of push you aside and don’t acknowledge you. They are really bad, sometimes.”
“Veronica, what are some of the things you feel you do well?”
“I feel that I have a lot of artistic ability, but I don’t have enough time to express myself that way. I am good in just about any sport. We play tennis together, and on the farm we ride horses and ride bikes together.”
“What makes you angry?”
“I get angry when I can’t understand why people can’t live in peace together. People should be able to live the way they want—without so much interference.”
Marilyn looks at my father. “Can I ask her what makes her angry about you?”
“Yeah,” he said.
“I would have to think about that for a while,” said Mom.
“You want to know what makes her angry about me?” said Dad. “Wearing the same clothes too often. She says they are dirty—I don’t think so. If I wear a black shirt and pants, I say it’s not dirty.”
“It may not be dirty, but it is strong,” said Mom, laughing. “I would not have told that, but since you did, it is okay.” Both Mom and Dad laugh.
“It makes her angry when I am up early and won’t let her sleep . . .”
“So you wake her up because you are up?”
“Well, I kiss her on the cheek and she gets mad and pushes me away.”
“Did you ever hit him?”
“She hit me once. Nothing serious. l can’t remember when, but she knocked me down one day.” He laughs.
“I did not!”
“She did. She took a poke and then she stomped me.”
They all laugh.
“I’m only joking,” he said.
“Seriously, does it ever bother you to know how strong he is?”
“No, I never think about it,” said Mom.
“Oh yeah?” said Dad. “One morning she said, ‘Ali, you are strong—put on some Ban Roll-On.’”
“Veronica, do you think there is anything about you he doesn’t like?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think he would tell me.”
“She takes too long to get dressed. She has a hard time deciding what to order in a restaurant,” said Dad.
“That’s because I’m particular about food. You don’t even need a menu,” said Mom.
Marilyn changes the subject. “Muhammad, you have said that when you have ten thousand tax-free bonds you are going to give it all up and preach. Do you seriously think the two of you can devote yourself to the religion?”
“That’s my goal in life,” said Dad.
“Veronica, do you think you can share this dream with him?”
“I will be a part of it. I’m not sure in what way.”
“In the Muslim religion, the woman’s job is not the same,” said Dad. “She is beside me to comfort me, help me, raise the family, travel with me, help me make decisions.”
“What decisions does she help you with?”
“A lot of them . . . Where we should live. She has even helped me make decisions on certain fights, by helping me to decide where to train, and planning our schedules.”
“Do you feel he is dependent on you?”
“Not at all. I don’t feel that. I really don’t know how I have helped him make any decisions about the fights,” she said.
“Muhammad, are you very dependent on her?”
“I am, but she doesn’t know it, she doesn’t feel it.”
“Why doesn’t she feel it, if it is true?”
“Because she isn’t an arrogant, sassy kind of woman. She is 100 percent my woman—even in thought. She never uses words of profanity, she never wants to party or disco. She never talks bad about people.”
“It’s interesting, people think how lucky she is. I think you are a lot luckier to have her.”
“She is a saint,” said Dad. “She is sweet and nice. I am the lucky one.”
At this point my father stood and walked out of the room. “Goodbye, girls,” he said.
Marilyn then focused her attention back on Mom. “Veronica, we really didn’t get into what makes you angry when he was here. Let’s go back to it.”
“It is hard to get me mad. I never really get mad at anyone. My family will tell you that.”
“Is it that you feel it mostly inside but do not show it?”
“Yes, I guess you can put it that way. I don’t know if I can tell you what makes me mad, but some things can. Like things in the newspaper that are untrue get me angry. I don’t stay upset very long. I get over things quickly. I do get mad when he rushes me. He tells me to get ready at a certain time, and he keeps coming in and bothering me long before it’s time. He’ll actually time me with his watch, and if it’s thirty seconds past he will say, ‘I told you, you wouldn’t be ready.’ He’s been brought up that way—he thinks if you are supposed to there at 10:00, get there at 9:30. I try to get him to go to certain places later—he’s not supposed to arrive before everyone else. He ends up waiting for the people when they are coming to see him.”
“I was very surprised today,” said Marilyn. “All the people around him seemed so comfortable. For a celebrity of his level, that is surprising. Usually they have to let a few people down; he didn’t.”
“Once you get to know him, you will see he treats everyone the same. He likes to be around common people more than celebrities.”
“You told me about how he spoils people around him. Does he spoil you?”
“I don’t think he spoils me. I’m the one he doesn’t spoil. The people he spoils are the ones that are not close. The ones that are close he treats normally. He is generous with me, but I don’t spend a lot of money.”
“If you wanted a fur coat, would you go out and buy it, or ask him for it?”
“I would be afraid to ask him. I just don’t like asking. I always wanted a Mercedes and I never told him, so one day he got his cook a Mercedes and I still didn’t say anything.”
“You say you don’t get mad, but you must have been really mad this time.”
Laughing, “Yeah, I was. I didn’t say anything for a while, but finally when I let it out he said I should have told him. He did get me one. He is so generous. He gives people houses and cars. I am trying to get him to act more normal. It is working—he’s changing.”
