Newspaper Page Text
PAGE EIGHT
Waiting for The Prophet
An Outside View
After hearing about the hostility with which the Muslims treat
their brown brothers who are the unenlightened outsiders — a hos
tility as violent as their hatred for the white man — a non-Muslim,
interested to find out what Muhammed’s religion is all about, has a
queasy stomach and shaky knees when approaching their place of
meeting. True this Sunday’s get-together was supposedly “public”,
advertised on posters for weeks, with words of welcome for all the
public —an invitation to “come and see for yourself”. True, too,
this meeting was not on their
own home ground here — Temple
No. 15 at 444% Edgewood Ave.,
but at the Magnolia. How wel
come could you feel though, when
you came up Magnolia St. to get
to the place, and were greeted on
either side by a sea of hostile
faces, two deep, lined down the
sidewalk on either side? The
frightening thing was the silence
— hundreds of people just standing
inmobile, watching — they didn’t
seem to need to talk. Each man
knew what he was supposed to
do, the militancy was evident —
in the silence in the conform
ity of dress — an ocean of blue
suits and red ties. You’re sup
posed to be the welcomed public
— but you don’t just hop out and
walk in.
But this is just the first im
pression. About the time you de
cide it’s really too much on the
nerves, and even a chance to see
this Muhammed, isn’t worth it,
one of the brothers greets you
courteously and asks if you know
where to go. You gush a little
bit, so happy that one of them
at least spoke. After the collec
tive taciturnity, you half expected
them to break out in Arabic when
they did talk, but that came later.
Right now they were talking in
English, ungrammatical English
but at least something that could
be understood. So you round the
corner thinking, “That wasn't so
bad after all” — and come face
to face with the sisters, standing
right in front of the Magnolia.
Panic again. You’ve heard that
one of the tenets of the religion
is that the brothers must be
courteous to the women. But the
sisters — they look fiercer than
the men, standing there in long
flowing robes, with head scarves
tight across their foreheads and
hanging loosely down their backs.
Again the silence is frightening.
This time, even more so. Few
things are more sinister than a
bunch of women, standing close
together — not huddled, . . . these
were no demure debs waiting for
the dance to begin — with nary
a whisper, giggle, or derisive
snort to be heard from the lot
of them — just long sober faces.
You’re escorted to the door —
there are far more sisters inside.
You walk into a dimly lit room
and you’re grabbed — literally.
These inside are smiling and mut
tering words of welcome, but . . .
they’re also grabbing. At this
point, you’d rather go back to
the solemn sisters outside. About
this time you realize that you’ve
been handed down the line. One
sister is dumping out the contents
of your purse, while another is
patting you down, and these sis
ters are thorough — all the while
assuring you that “this is some
thing we have to go through too
. . . You understand, don’t you?"
Before you can nod you and your
purse have been put back together
again and are being “helped” on
down the line. The door into the
main auditorium is nowhere in
sight — but neither is the door
to the outside any more and the
sisters' line is strictly a one-way
street. You’re stopped once more
near the door to the auditorium
and boy is it good to see the light
again — but this time a sister is
wielding a pencil, and she says
"your name”. It’s a good thing
you’re so scared you’ve forgotten
it. Any name will do, and that’s
what you give them. Before you
have time to pat yourself on the
back, you’re whisked into the
auditorium, escorted to a seat,
this time by one of the brothers.
You discover that all the women
are seated on the left side, and
CHURCH
NEWS
NOTICE
The A. C. Epps Gospel choir of
Ariel Bowen Methodist Church
invites you to their installation
program, Sept. 18th, 1960 at 7:30
P.M., 380 Arthur St., S.W.
We are asking for two selections
and a donation.
Thanking you in advance,
Mrs. Joyce Billings, Pres.
Miss Selen Pryon, Sect.
Rev. L. P. Grissom, Pastor
Cosmopolitan A.M.E. Church,
corner of Vine and Foundry
Streets, is sponsoring a church
wide “Tea” Sunday, Sept. 18th,
from 5 to 7 P.M. in the first unit
of the church. Plenty of free park
ing next door to church. You and
your friends are cordially invited.
Rev. J. F. Moses, Pastor
M. M. Napp reporter
The Fulton Gospel Singers will
appear in Concert Sun., Sept. 25,
1960 at St. Anthony Spiritual
Church at 3 o’clock, 272 Dodd
Ave. Sunday night at 8 o’clock
the Fulton Gospel Singers will ap
pear at Antioch Holiness Church
on Foot St.
Mr. Burl Fulton, Mang.
that there are far more Muslim
women present than there are
feminine members of the public.
As you surreptitously pat yourself
and your purse to make sure
you’re both there after the scare,
you begin to settle down and look
around. The first thing you note
is the incongruity of the paper
butterflies hanging from the ceil
ing on strings. Surely they were
left over from the last gala event.
Could such a frivolous creature
be the sacred insect of this re
ligion? There was no gay flit
ting quality about these people.
As you look around you notice
that the brothers inside are in
formation — about ten paces from
each other around the room.
When they relieve each other,
they walk in double time, click
their heels smartly, and stand
ramrod straight, at attention. At
all times one man in the middle
aisle walks slowly up and down,
peering down the aisles as he
goes. You don’t dare sneeze out
of turn. You shudder to think
what it would have been like if
the public hadn’t been welcome.
The visiting ministers are all
seated in the low-ceilinged band
stand. The program begins when
Jeremiah X, minister of the At
lanta temple, greets the audience
in Arabic in the greeting of peace,
to which everyone except a few of
us “publics” respond in more Ara
bic. We then rise and face the
east, which paradoxically now
means facing Sunset Ave., with
arms outstretched and palms
raised, while minister Jeremiah
glibly runs through the Islamic
prayer. Then we begin in earnest.
After Minister Jeremiah’s wit
ness to the effect of Mohammed’s
teaching on his life, minister Mal
colm X. from Boston testifies.
It wasn’t so much that they’d
all committed the same sins be
fore they were saved: when
you’ve run through all ten there’s
no way to go but up. It was just
that they used identical phrases
and sentences, as though it were
a set routine, taught to all the
ministers. The only differences
were in the individual talents they
THE ATLANTA INQUIRER
I Passed As A Muslim
‘An Inside View’
by “George X” as told to the Inquirer
A few years ago, I visited the temple of Islam a couple of times
when it was located on Auburn. I had even written a letter to
Muhammad, but I never followed it through. When I heard that
Muhammad was coming to Atlanta I decided I would go to see
just what was going to happen.
As I was getting ready, some
friends of mine came by and told
me that all of the men were
dressed in dark suits and red
ties. I figured that it would be so
crowded, no one would be able to
get in except the brothers and
sisters so I put on a blue suit and
red tie. When I got to the “Meet
ing Place,” men were lined up
and down the side-walks in an
erect position so I found a spot
which was not occupied and as
sumed a position similar to the
ones the others had.
I was standing at attention when
a middle-aged man came up and
manifested. Minister Malcolm’s
run - through was faster and
smoother and jollier than the
others. The standard “All praise
is due to Allah” slipped in and
out of his speech at the proper
times like a well-oiled cylinder,
soon, all eyes turned toward the
left exit. Here a huge man, far
taller and heavier than any other
in the room filled the doorway.
No one passed through the door
into the back without his permis
sion. Suddenly, a line of men
marched out of the door and
formed a solid wall to the plat
form. Minister Jeremiah yelled
“everyone stand” and up the steps
came a little man, dressed in a
light grey suit, wearing a black
jeweled turban. He had been hid
den from sight as he emerged
from the door and approached the
steps by the husky men who
formed the line to guard him.
Elijah Mohammed had finally
come on.
HOW NEAR IS YOUR HOME
TO ONE OF THESE?
ATLANTA FIRE STATIONS
Headquarters and signal station
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stood beside me. A few women
came by and hailed the man; the
man responded with a salute to
them. After this happened a cou
ple of times, I found myself fa
miliar enough with the salute to
give it and the response.
One of the men standing in the
line turned to me and inquired
about the temple to which I be
longed. “Temple number 15,”
was my reply. This temple was
here in Atlanta. We began talking
about how well the Negro lived
here (homes, etc.) as compared
to the Negroes in New York. Be
fore long I found myself talking
about how badly the white man
treats the Negro. This further se
cured my position as being one
of them.
I crossed the street and was
greeted by a strange “brother”.
I replied, and we began talking.
He asked me my name and I
replied “George”. “Are you going
in now?” he asked. “Yes, are
you?” We both stepped behind
the white sheet used as curtains,
and as a “brother” started to
search me, the other said, “Oh,
he’s with me and he’s a brother.”
This got me clearance to go in.
One man asked me if I wanted
to get in line and help search the
incoming males, but I refused
saying that I was on post inside.
Once on the inside, I was di
rected to take up post at the
entrance and later taken down
front where I was to relieve one
of the “brothers” already on post
in the front of the stage. Quickly
finding an excuse, I mnaaged to
get to the rear of the ballroom,
where I moved around freely as
a brother until I got read to leave.
All praise to Allah, I am here
to tell the story.
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5:30 - 5:55 “Wake Up Atlanta” with “Jack the Bellboy”
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Beginning 6:00 A.M.
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10:00 - 12:00 Midnite “Christian Journey”
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“Christian Journey”
MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 19, 1960
