The Audubon Ballroom, between Broadway and St. Nicholas Avenue, on the south side of West
166th Street, is a two-story building frequently rented for dances, organization functions, and
other affairs. A dark, slender, pretty young lady, occupationally a receptionist and avocationally a
hardworking OAAU assistant to Malcolm X, has since told me that she arrived early, about 1:30
P.M. , having some preliminary work to do. Entering, she saw that the usual 400 wooden chairs
had been set up, with aisles on either side, but no center aisle; the young lady (she wishes to be
nameless) noticed that several people were already seated in the front rows, but she gave it no
thought since somealways came early, liking to get seats up close to the stage, to savor to the
fullest the dramatic orator Malcolm X. On the stage, behind the speaker's stand, were eight
straight brown chairs arranged in a row and behind it was the stage's painted backdrop, a mural
of a restful country scene. The young lady's responsibilities for this day had included making
arrangements and subsequent confirmations with the scheduled co-speaker, the Reverend Milton
Galamison, the militant Brooklyn Presbyterian who in 1964 had led the two one-day Negro
boycotts in New York City public schools, protesting "racial imbalance." She had similarly made
arrangements with some other prominent Negroes who were due to appeal to the audience for
their maximum possible contributions to aid the work of Malcolm X and his organization.
The people who entered the ballroom were not searched at the door. In recent weeks, Malcolm X
had become irritable about this, saying "It makes people uncomfortable" and that it reminded him
of Elijah Muhammad. "If I can't be safe among my own kind, where can I be?" he had once said
testily. For this day, also, he had ordered the press-as such-barred, white or black. He was angry
at what he interpreted as "slanted" press treatment recently; he felt especially that the
newspapers had not taken seriously his statements of the personal danger he was in. United
Press International reporter Stanley Scott, a Negro, had been admitted, he later said, when a
Malcolm lieutenant decided, "As a Negro, you will be allowed to enter as a citizen if you like, but
you must remove your press badge." The same criterion had applied to WMCA newsman Hugh
Simpson. Both he and Scott came early enough so that they obtained seats up near the stage.
Malcolm X entered the ballroom at shortly before two o'clock, trudging heavily instead of with his
usual lithe strides, his young lady assistant has told me. By this time several other of his
assistants were filtering in and out of the small anteroom alongside the stage. He sat down
sideways on a chair, his long legs folded around its bottom, and he leaned one elbow on a kind of
counter beforea rather rickety make-up mirror that entertainers used when dances were held in
the ballroom. He wore a dark suit, white shirt and narrow dark tie. He said to a little group of his
assistants that he wasn't going to talk about his personal troubles, "I don't want that to be the
reason for anyone to come to hear me." He stood up and paced about the little room. He said he
was going to state that he had been hasty to accuse the Black Muslims of bombing his home.
"Things have happened since that are bigger than what they can do. I know what they can do.
Things have gone beyond that."
Those in the anteroom could hear the sounds of the enlarging audience outside taking seats.
"The way I feel, I ought not to go out there at all today," Malcolm X said. "In fact, I'm going to ease
some of this tension by telling the black man not to fight himself-that's all a part of the white man's
big maneuver, to keep us fighting among ourselves, against each other. I'm not fighting anyone,
that's not what we're here for." He kept glancing at his wrist watch, anticipating the arrival of
Reverend Galamison. "Whenever you make any appointment with a minister," he said to his
young lady assistant, "you have to call them two or three hours before time, because they will
change their mind. This is typical of ministers."
"I felt bad, I felt that it was my fault," the young lady told me. "It was time for the meeting to start,
too." She turned to Malcolm X's stalwart assistant Benjamin X, known as a highly able speaker
himself. "Brother, will you speak?" she asked-then, turning to Malcolm X, "Is it all right if he
speaks? And maybe he could introduce you." Malcolm X abruptly whirled on her, and barked,
"You know you shouldn't ask me right in front of him!" Then, collecting himself quickly, he said
"Okay." Brother Benjamin X asked how long he should speak. Malcolm X said, glancing again at
his wrist watch, "Make it half an hour." And Brother Benjamin X went through the door leading
onto the stage. They heard him expertly exhorting the audience about what is needed today by
darsice
(darsice)
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