his guests for dinner that evening, at his new home.
Mr. Muhammad said that his children and his followers had insisted that he move into this larger,
better eighteen-room house in Chicago at 4847 Woodlawn Avenue. They had just moved in that
week, I believe. When we arrived, Mr. Muhammad showed us where he had just been painting. I
had to restrain my impulse to run and bring a chair for the Messenger of Allah. Instead, as I had
heard he would do, he was worrying about my comfort.
We had hoped to hear his wisdom during the dinner, but instead he encouraged us to talk. I sat
thinking of how our Detroit Temple more or less just sat and awaited Allah to bring converts-and,
beyond that, of the millions of black people all over America, who never had heard of the
teachings that could stir and wake and resurrect the black man... and there at Mr. Muhammad's
table, I found my tongue. I have always been one to speak my mind.
During a conversational lull, I asked Mr. Muhammad how many Muslims were supposed to be in
our Temple Number One in Detroit.
He said, "There are supposed to be thousands."
"Yes, sir," I said. "Sir, what is your opinion of the best way of getting thousands there?"
"Go after the young people," he said. "Once you get them, the older ones will follow through
shame."
I made up my mind that we were going to follow that advice.
Back in Detroit, I talked with my brother Wilfred. I offered my services to our Temple's Minister,
Lemuel Hassan. He shared my determination that we should apply Mr. Muhammad's formula in a
recruitment drive. Beginning that day, every evening, straight from work at the furniture store, I
went doing what we Muslims later came to call "fishing." I knew the thinking and the language of
ghetto streets: "My man, let me pull your coat to something-"
My application had, of course, been made and during this time I received from Chicago my "X."
The Muslim's "X" symbolized the true African family name that he never could know. For me, my
"X" replaced the white slavemaster name of "Little" which some blue-eyed devil named Little had
imposed upon my paternal forebears. The receipt of my "X" meant that forever after in the nation
of Islam, I would be known as Malcolm X. Mr. Muhammad taught that we would keep this "X" until
God Himself returned and gave us a Holy Name from His own mouth.
Recruit as I would in the Detroit ghetto bars, in the poolrooms, and on the corners, I found my
poor, ignorant, brainwashed black brothers mostly too deaf, dumb, and blind, mentally, morally,
and spiritually, to respond. It angered me that only now and then would one display even a little
curiosity about the teachings that would resurrect the black man.
These few I would almost beg to visit Temple Number One at our next meeting. But then not half
of those who agreed to come would actually show up.
Gradually, enough were made interested, though, that each month, a few more automobiles
lengthened our caravans to Temple Two in Chicago. But even after seeing and hearing Elijah
Muhammad in person, only a few of the interested visitors would apply by formal letter to Mr.
Muhammad to be accepted for Nation of Islam membership.
With a few months of plugging away, however, our storefront Temple One about tripled its
membership. And that so deeply pleased Mr. Muhammad that he paid us the honor of a personal
visit.
Mr. Muhammad gave me warm praise when Minister Lemuel Hassan told how hard I had labored
in the cause of Islam.
Our caravans grew. I remember with what pride we led twenty-five automobiles to Chicago. And
each time we went, we were honored with dinner at the home of Elijah Muhammad. He was
interested in my potential, I could tell from things he would say.
And I worshiped him.
In early 1953, 1 left the furniture store. I earned a little better weekly pay check working at the Gar
Wood factory in Detroit, where big garbage truck bodies were made. I cleaned up behind the
welders each time they finished another truck body.
Mr. Muhammad was saying at his dining table by this time that one of his worst needs was more
young men willing to work as hard as they would have to in order to bear the responsibilities of
darsice
(darsice)
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