I went to Springfield, Massachusetts, to try to start a new temple. A temple which Mr. Muhammad
numbered Thirteen was established there with the help of Brother Osborne, who had first heard
of Islam from me in prison. A lady visiting a Springfield meeting asked if I'd come to Hartford,
where she lived; she specified the next Thursday and said she would assemble some friends.
And I was right there.
Thursday is traditionally domestic servants' day off. This sister had in her housing project
apartment about fifteen of the maids, cooks, chauffeurs and house men who worked for the
Hartford-area white people. You've heard that saying, "No man is a hero to his valet." Well, those
Negroes who waited on wealthy whites hand and foot opened their eyes quicker than most
Negroes. And when they went "fishing" enough among more servants, and other black people in
and around Hartford, Mr. Muhammad before long was able to assign a Hartford temple the
number Fourteen. And every Thursday I scheduled my teaching there.
Mr. Muhammad, when I went to see him in Chicago, had to chastise me on some point during
nearly every visit. I just couldn't keep from showing in some manner that with his ministers
equipped with the power of his message, I felt the Nation should go much faster. His patience and
his wisdom in chastising me would always humble me from head to foot. He said, one time, that
no true leader burdened his followers with a greater load than they could carry, and no true leader
sets too fast a pace for his followers to keep up.
"Most people seeing a man in an old touring car going real slow think the man doesn't want to go
fast," Mr. Muhammad said, "but the man knows that to drive any faster would destroy the old car.
When he gets a fast car, then he will drive at a fast speed." And I remember him telling me
another time, when I complained about an inefficient minister at one of his mosques, "I would
rather have a mule I can depend upon than a race horse that I can't depend upon."
I knew that Mr. Muhammad wanted that fast car to drive. And I don't think you could pick the
same number of faithful brothers and sisters from the Nation of Islam today and find "fishing"
teams to beat the efforts of those who helped to bring growth to the Boston, Philadelphia,
Springfield, Hartford, and New York temples. I'm, of course, just mentioning those that I knew
most about because I was directly involved. This was through 1955. And 1955 was the year I
made my first trip of any distance. It was to help open the temple that today is Number Fifteen-in
Atlanta, Georgia.
Any Muslim who ever moved for personal reasons from one city to another was of course
exhorted to plant seeds for Mr. Muhammad. Brother James X, one of our top Temple Twelve
brothers, had interested enough black people in Atlanta so that when Mr. Muhammad was
advised, he told me to go to Atlanta and hold a first meeting. I think I have had a hand in most of
Mr. Muhammad's temples, but I'll never forget that opening in Atlanta.
A funeral parlor was the only place large enough that Brother James X could afford to rent.
Everything that the Nation of Islam did in those days, from Mr. Muhammad on down, was strictly
on a shoestring. When we all arrived, though, a Christian Negro's funeral was just dismissing, so
we had to wait awhile, and we watched the mourners out.
"You saw them all crying over their physical dead," I told our group when we got inside. "But the
Nation of Islam is rejoicing over you, our mentally dead. That may shock you, but, oh, yes, you
just don't realize how our whole black race in America is mentally dead. We are here today with
Mr. Elijah Muhammad's teachings which resurrect the black man from the dead... ."And,
speaking of funerals, I should mention that we never failed to get some new Muslims when non-
Muslims, family and friends of a Muslim deceased, attended our short, moving ceremony that
illustrated Mr. Muhammad's teaching, "Christians have their funerals for the living, ours are for our
departed."
As the minister of several temples, conducting the Muslim ceremony had occasionally fallen to
my lot. As Mr. Muhammad had taught me, I would start by reading over the casket of the departed
brother or sister a prayer to Allah. Next I read a simple obituary record of his or her life. Then I
usually read from Job; two passages, in the seventh and fourteenth chapters, where Job speaks
of no life after death. Then another passage where David, when his son died, spoke also of no life
after death.
darsice
(darsice)
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