Muhammad Ali: A Tribute to the Greatest

by Thomas Hauser

  Eventually, of course, I played the tape for Ali. One night when he was at my apartment for dinner, I took my old reel-to-reel tape recorder out of the closet and turned it on.

  About a minute into the interview, Muhammad reached into the formidable sack of one-liners that he carries with him at all times. “I remember that afternoon,” he said. “You were wearing a blue shirt.”

  “And you were wearing a white terrycloth robe.”

  We listened to the rest of the tape in silence. Then Ali asked, “Was I really wearing a white terrycloth robe?”

  “Yes. Was I really wearing a blue shirt?”

  Ali laughed. “You’re crazy,” he said.

  TRANSCRIPT OF MARCH 1967 RADIO INTERVIEW

  CONDUCTED BY THOMAS HAUSER

  WITH MUHAMMAD ALI

  Q: Your outlook on life is different from that of a great many other people. It’s based on your religion. Could you give us some idea of what it is?

  ALI: As far as my outlook is concerned, I’d say that ninety percent of the American public feels just the way I do as far as racial issues are concerned; as far as inter-marriage is concerned; forced integration and total integration such as many Negro civil-rights groups are trying to accomplish today. We who follow the Honorable Elijah Muhammad don’t believe that this is the solution to our problem. Unity among self, respect for self, doing for self is what we believe. And this don’t make me no different from whites, because the masses of them believe and have been practicing this ever since we’ve been in America. So my outlook on life is really the same as ninety percent of the whites in America. They’re just shocked and surprised to see that we the Negro who have accepted the teachings of Elijah Muhammad now want to be with ourselves and live among ourselves and don’t want to force-integrate, and that’s such a surprise to the whites, which makes us controversial and different but really we’re not different. We’re just different from the Negro who’s striving for forced integration. But as a whole, the whites believe like we do and have been believing like we do all the time.

  Q: Would you like to see a world someday where the white man and Negro can live together and call each other friends?

  ALI: I’m not the one to say. I would like to see peace on earth. If separation will bring it, I say let’s separate. If integration will bring it, I say let’s integrate. But let’s not just stand still, where one man holds another in bondage and deprives him of freedom, justice, and equality, neither integrating or letting him go to self. I don’t like that. But I like seeing peace, whatever means will bring it.

  Q: Do you think the Negro is better than the white man or just different? Are we the same underneath the skin?

  ALI: Nobody on earth is made the same. Some are born blind; some crippled; some are yellow; some are red; some are black; some are white. No men are really equal or the same. As far as going into the differences and why they’re different, I couldn’t say. But the man that we follow for all of our spiritual teachings, who gives us knowledge and understanding, is Elijah Muhammad. And I’m sure that, if you have him on your radio show, he can tell you why we are not alike and dig into the depths of why we’re different. But it’s not my job to know who’s who and who’s different, because I’m not that wise. That’s up to Elijah Muhammad, our leader.

  Q: You’ve had an outstanding boxing career; perhaps the most outstanding of anyone in the ring today. Who’s the toughest opponent you’ve had to face?

  ALI: The toughest opponent I’ve had to face is Sonny Liston.

  Q: What about Floyd Patterson?

  ALI: He was easy.

  Q: You’ve said that, in the ring, you tried to humiliate Floyd Patterson and Ernie Terrell. Is that true?

  ALI: Yes.

  Q: Why?

  ALI: Because they talked about me and my religion; mocked my leader and teacher and advisors; and didn’t want to respect me as Muhammad Ali, which is my name now. So they’re lucky they got off as easy as they did.

  Q: Do you think that two wrongs make a right? Was it right to humiliate them like that?

  ALI: Is it right to go to war? Is it right that we’re in a war now, killing people? I have my beliefs, and I’ll defend them.

  Q: One of the things that people are interested in now is your status with the draft. What will you do if your final appeals fall through and you’re drafted? Will you then resist going into the Army?

  ALI: I don’t think it would be respectful to the draft board or the government or the Justice Department to make a decision now. That’s a hypothetical question. I haven’t been drafted yet. My appeals haven’t run out. It’s in the hands of my lawyer; he’s handling it. So it wouldn’t be respectful to make a decision or say anything on this radio show. But the world knows that I am a Muslim. The world knows that I’m a sincere follower to death of Elijah Muhammad. And we say five times a day in our prayers, “My prayers, my sacrifices, my life, and my death are all for Allah.” I repeat, “My prayers, my sacrifices, my life, and my death are all for Allah.” This is what I sincerely believe. I’ve upheld my faith through the past years. I gave up one of the prettiest Negro women in the country; cost me one-hundred-seventy thousand dollars in alimony. This was all controversy and publicity before the draft started. The white businessmen of Louisville, Kentucky, will tell you that I’ve turned down eight million dollars in movie contracts, recordings, promotions, and advertisements because of my faith. So I don’t see why I should break the rules of my faith now.

  Q: There seems to be an opinion circulating that Zora Folley is just here for a pay-day for himself and for you and to keep you in shape. Do you think that Folley represents a genuine threat?

  ALI: These are just the hypocrites and the phonies, the newspaper writers that are shook up because everything that I said would come true did come true. I said that I was the greatest. They thought I was just acting the fool. Now instead of admitting that I’m the greatest and admitting that I’m the best heavyweight in all history, they’d rather belittle the contenders and say it’s just a pushover. They were complaining because Patterson didn’t fight but once a year. They were complaining because Liston didn’t fight but once a year. They were complaining because Johansson didn’t fight but once a year. The game was dead. Now I revive it, fighting every two months. And what more can I do but fight the number-one contender. Zora Folley is the number-one man on earth next to me. So they can call him a bum. They can call him an old man. All I say is, “If he’s a bum, if he’s an old man; then why do the boxing authorities in this country rank him number one?” So they’re just looking for fault, and they don’t know what to do. They’re all shook up. They said Terrell would be tough; they built him up to be tough. He was nothing. They said Patterson would be tough. He was nothing. They said Cleveland Williams would be a big test. He was nothing. They said Chuvalo would be nothing. He was tough. So don’t pay attention to the critics in the press. They don’t know nothing about boxing. They never trained a day in their life. They can’t throw a left jab. All they can do is talk. They’ve been wrong, and I’ve been right. I look for Zora Folley to be tougher than Ernie Terrell.

  Q: Who among the young fighters such as Joe Frazier, Buster Mathis, and Jerry Quarry do you look for to give you the most trouble in the years ahead?

  ALI: I’d say Joe Frazier.

  Q: What does he have that would make him tougher than the others?

  ALI: He’s strong; he hits hard. I’ve never really seen none of them fight. But from what I hear, he’d be the toughest

  Q: Have you given any thought to retirement?

  ALI: Not really. I believe I’ll just stay here and keep whupping them until they find somebody who can whup me.

  Q: What sort of long-range plans do you have for when you finish up in the ring?

  ALI: I want to be a minister for the Islamic faith as taught by the Honorable Elijah Muhammad. That’s all I want to be is a minister.

  I WAS AT ALI-FRAZIER I

  2004

  I was
an ardent sports fan when I was young. I played a lot of baseball, football, and basketball. Those were also my favorite sports to watch. I followed boxing but without the intense interest in the sweet science that I have today.

  Like many Americans, I became aware of Cassius Marcellus Clay Jr. at the 1960 Rome Olympics. I found him charming and followed his career as he rose to conquer Sonny Liston. Then, like a lot of people, I was turned off by his adherence to Nation of Islam ideology. The lure of Muhammad Ali’s personality was strong, and I had no problem with his message of empowerment for black Americans. But I took issue with the notion that white people were devils who had been created 6,600 years ago by an evil scientist named Mr. Yakub and that apartheid was a preferred way of life. Regardless, in 1967, Ali won me over again when he refused induction into the United States Army during the height of the war in Vietnam.

  In 1970, I graduated from Columbia Law School and began clerking for a federal judge prior to a five-year stint as a litigator on Wall Street. The United States Supreme Court had yet to rule on Ali’s appeal of his conviction for refusing induction and he was facing five years in prison.

  Then, in early 1971, I read that Ali and Joe Frazier had signed to fight at Madison Square Garden. Obviously, it would be a memorable athletic competition. Two great fighters, each one undefeated with a legitimate claim to the heavyweight championship of the world. But just as clearly, it was going to be an event that transcended sports.

  The tumultuous decade just passed had been marked by assassinations, men landing on the moon, and the rise of a new drug culture. But its most important markers were Black America rising to assert itself and opposition to the war in Vietnam. Ali symbolized both of those markers.

  Joe Frazier, by contrast, was perceived as a symbol of the ruling order. Fairly or unfairly, as Bryant Gumbel later wrote, “Frazier became an instrument of the oppressors. The blackest man in the ring was cast as the villain to blacks across the land and was called hero and savior by the most bigoted of white men.”

  Tickets for Ali-Frazier I were priced from $20 to $150. The day they went on sale, I bought two mezzanine seats at $20 apiece. On fight night, scalpers were getting ten times those numbers.

  I went to the fight with a friend. Entering the Garden, I bought an “official program.” It was a generic publication with a LeRoy Neiman painting of Ali and Frazier on the cover and a 16-page insert on “The Fight.”

  I’d been to Madison Square Garden for boxing once before, but this night was different from its predecessor. Early in Ali’s career, Budd Schulberg wrote, “Cassius Marcellus Clay is doing for fistic glamour what Marilyn Monroe did for sex.” Now the Garden was glamour personified.

  The arena was jammed. There was electricity in the air. Major superstars who were used to sitting on camera in the first row were fifteen rows from ringside and happy to be in the Garden at all. Frank Sinatra wangled a press credential by agreeing to photograph the fight for Life Magazine. Thousands of fans stood outside the arena just to be there and watch the celebrities come in.

  None of the preliminary fights was slated for more than six rounds. The most notable undercard bout featured Ali’s brother, Rahaman, against Danny McAlinden.

  Rahaman had fought on the undercard of both Ali-Liston fights and Ali versus Oscar Bonavena. His record stood at 7 wins and 0 losses with 2 knockouts. McAlinden was a heavyweight from Ireland via England. His record was 14-1-2 with 13 KOs, and he had never fought off the sceptered isle before.

  Fights in New York were scored at that time on a round-by-round basis; not on points. McAlinden won a majority decision: 4-2, 3-2-1, 3-3.

  As the night wore on, the tension grew.

  Then, finally, it was time.

  “I’ve covered sports for a half-century,” Jerry Izenberg later reminisced. “I’ve been to every kind of championship and seen every great athlete of the past fifty years. No moment I’ve ever seen had the electricity of Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier coming down the aisle and entering the ring that night.”

  People forget how young Ali and Frazier were at the time. Muhammad was 29 and Joe only 27. But even though some of Ali’s greatest ring triumphs lay in the future, as a fighter he was already growing old.

  The fight was even in the early rounds. The crowd was evenly divided. But as the night wore on, Frazier partisans had more reason to cheer.

  I remember Ali going to the ropes, beckoning Frazier in. I remember round eleven, when Joe wobbled Muhammad with a big left hook. And most painfully, I remember the fifteenth round, when Joe hit Muhammad as hard as a man can be hit and Ali went down. At that point, the fight was lost and my hope was that Muhammad would be able to finish on his feet. He did, although the judges ruled against him: 11-4, 9-6, and 8-6-1.

  Ali had been defeated in his first “superfight.” Against Sonny Liston in 1964, Cassius Clay had been widely perceived as nothing more than a kid coming to get beaten up. Ali-Liston II drew only two thousand paying fans. Now, when it mattered most and the world truly cared, “The Greatest” had failed.

  I left Madison Square Garden that night feeling depressed but knowing that I had witnessed something historic.

  REFLECTIONS ON TIME SPENT WITH MUHAMMAD ALI

  COMBINED PIECES WRITTEN FROM 1991 THROUGH 1997

  My personal relationship with Muhammad Ali began in 1988, when we met in New York to explore the possibility of my writing the book that ultimately became Muhammad Ali: His Life and Times.

  The idea originated with Muhammad’s wife, Lonnie, who wanted a book which would place Muhammad in context, not just as a fighter but also as a social, political, and religious figure. I was approached because I had previously written a book about professional boxing entitled The Black Lights, as well as books about race relations, public education, United States foreign policy, and a number of other subjects of concern to Muhammad.

  On paper, the fit between us seemed good. I was 42 years old, only four years younger than Ali, so I’d experienced his era, from the civil rights movement to the rock music he loves. I’d spent five years as a lawyer on Wall Street, and thus was able to work my way through the financial entanglements of Muhammad’s life and the complex litigation that followed his refusal to accept induction into the United States Army. And while I was determined to maintain my objectivity in writing, I was a lifelong Ali fan.

  Writing a biography about a living subject is an extremely personal endeavor, and I wanted to make sure that, if the project went ahead, Muhammad and I would get along. I also wanted to make sure that I could capture Muhammad’s voice. At the time, Mike Tyson was the undefeated undisputed heavyweight champion of the world. Some experts were going so far as to proclaim that Tyson was better than Ali in his prime. Thus, before I met with Muhammad and Lonnie, I spent an afternoon writing a piece entitled I’m Coming Back To Whup Mike Tyson’s Butt. Then, when we got together, I read the piece aloud and presented it to Muhammad. His response was to take a pen from his pocket and write across the front page, “To Tom Hauser from Muhammad Ali—This is what I can still do to Tyson right now.”

  But there was another threshold issue to confront. Like millions of admirers, I’d seen Muhammad on television. Sometimes he’d looked well. Other times, though, the light seemed all but gone from his eyes. I didn’t want to involve myself with the project unless Muhammad was capable of making a significant contribution to it. Also, I didn’t want to spend several years working on a book that would be a source of depression instead of joy.

  To resolve those issues, after meeting initially with Muhammad and his wife, I accepted their invitation to spend five days at their home in Berrien Springs, Michigan. My first two days there, I was intimidated by Ali’s presence. I found it hard to make eye contact with him. Other than John F. Kennedy, who was my boyhood hero, I don’t think there’s a person on the planet who would have affected me in that manner and certainly not to that extent. Then, on the third morning, I went downstairs to the kitchen. Muhammad was sitting at the brea
kfast table, finishing his cereal and toast. He looked up and asked if I wanted cornflakes or granola. In that moment, I realized that any distance between us was my own fault. Muhammad didn’t want to be put on a pedestal. He wanted me to relate to him the same way I’d relate to anyone else.

  I also realized over time that, despite Ali’s speech difficulties, his health is better than most people think it is. Muhammad suffers from Parkinson’s syndrome, which refers to a series of symptoms, the most noticeable of which are slurred speech, stiffness in walking, and an occasional facial “mask.” The most common cause of Parkinson’s syndrome is Parkinson’s disease. In Ali’s case, the symptoms were brought on by repeated blows to the head; blows that destroyed cells in his brain stem which produce a substance called dopamine. But the condition is not life-threatening. And more important, it’s a motor-skills problem. There are no intellectual deficits. Muhammad’s wit is sharp and his thought processes are clear. Indeed, when we signed our contract for me to write the book, I couldn’t resist saying, “Muhammad, stick with me and I’ll make you famous.” Ali countered, “More famous than Elvis Presley?”