He scribbled one night, "You have not converted a man because you have silenced him. John
Viscount Morley." And the same night, almost illegibly, "I was going downhill until he picked me
up, but the more I think of it, we picked each other up."
When I did not see him for several days, a letter came. "I have cancelled all public appearances
and speaking engagements for a number of weeks. So within that period it should be possible to
finish this book. With the fast pace of newly developing incidents today, it is easy for something
that is done or said tomorrow to be outdated even by sunset on the same day. Malcolm X."
I pressed to get the first chapter, "Nightmare," into a shape that he could review. When it was
ready in a readable rough draft, I telephoned him. He came as quickly as he could drive from his
home-which made me see how grinding an ordeal it was to him to just be sitting at home,
inactive, and knowing his temperament, my sympathies went out to Sister Betty.
He pored over the manuscript pages, raptly the first time, then drawing out his red-ink ball-point
pen he read through the chapter again, with the pen occasionally stabbing at something. "You
can't bless Allah!" he exclaimed, changing "bless" to "praise." In a place that referred to himself
and his brothers and sisters, he scratched red through "we kids." "Kids are goats!" he exclaimed
sharply.
Soon, Malcolm X and his family flew to Miami. Cassius Clay had extended the invitation as a sixth
wedding anniversary present to Malcolm X and Sister Betty, and they had accepted most
gratefully. It was Sister Betty's first vacation in the six years of the taut regimen as a Black Muslim
wife, and it was for Malcolm X both a saving of face and something to do.
Very soon after his arrival, he telegraphed me his phone number at a motel. I called him and he
told me, "I just want to tell you something. I'm not a betting man anymore, but if you are, you bet
on Cassius to beat Listen, and you will win." I laughed and said he was prejudiced. He said,
"Remember what I told you when the fight's over." I received later a picture postcard, the picture
in vivid colors being of a chimpanzee at the Monkey Jungle in Miami. Malcolm X had written on
the reverse side, "One hundred years after the Civil War, and these chimpanzees get more
recognition, respect and freedom in America than our people do. Bro. Malcolm X." Another time,
an envelope came, and inside it was a clipping of an Irv Kupcinet column in the Chicago Sun-
Times. Malcolm X's red pen had encircled an item which read, "Insiders are predicting a split in
the Black Muslims. Malcolm X, ousted as No. 2 man in the organization, may form a splinter
group to oppose Elijah Muhammad." Alongside the item, Malcolm X had scribbled "Imagine
this!!!"
The night of the phenomenal upset, when Clay did beat Liston, Malcolm Xtelephoned me, and
sounds of excitement were in the background. The victory party was in his motel suite, Malcolm X
told me. He described what was happening, mentioned some of those who were present, and
that the new heavyweight king was "in the next room, my bedroom here" taking a nap. After
reminding me of the fight prediction he had made, Malcolm X said that I should look forward now
to Clay's "quick development into a major world figure. I don't know if you really realize the world
significance that this is the first Muslim champion."
It was the following morning when Cassius Clay gave the press interview which resulted in
national headlines that he was actually a "Black Muslim," and soon after, the newspapers were
carrying pictures of Malcolm X introducing the heavyweight champion to various African diplomats
in the lobbies of the United Nations headquarters in New York City. Malcolm X toured Clay about
in Harlem, and in other places, functioning, he said, as Clay's "friend and religious advisor."
I had now moved upstate to finish my work on the book, and we talked on the telephone every
three or four days. He said things suggesting that he might never be returned to his former Black
Muslim post, and he now began to say things quietly critical of Elijah Muhammad. Playboy
magazine asked me to do an interview for them with the new champion Cassius Clay, and when I