Black Men Feel Like A Million
He’s been trashed as a hate-spouting demagogue, the scourge of white folks, an antiSemitic rabble-rouser. All true.
He’s a Nightmare in a Bow Tie to mainstream politicians.
Bill Clinton bad-mouthed him as “malicious.” Bob Dole called him a “racist, unhinged by hate.” Newt Gingrich tagged him “an unrepentant bigot.” Colin Powell avoided him like double pneumonia.
Sneer at him or fear him, nobody can take away Louis Farrakhan’s triumph.
In the face of thunderous criticism, Farrakhan’s brainstorm of a Million Man March was a historic smash. Never mind it wasn’t really a million men, nor even a march. And Farrakhan’s rambling rant almost ruined it.
Argue that thousands of black men who came by car, bus, train and foot were the real heroes, not Farrakhan. I’d agree.
Ask why they came, you heard the same words: pride … solidarity … responsibility and “getting our act together.”
On this chilly, sky-blue day with Washington’s monuments glinting like jewels, they jammed the Mall as far as the eye could see. U.S. Park Service cops called the crowd 400,000. I thought the throng bigger than the 600,000 I saw at the 1969 antiVietnam War march.
Wandering among the crowd, often a white outsider in a sea of black faces, I found the atmosphere more family reunion than political rally: fathers with sons, cab drivers, lawyers, kid gang members, hugging and high-fiving in “OneIn-A-Million” T-shirts.
Poignant signs: A young man’s homemade banner, “I Am Not Alone.” A cardboard placard, “I Am Part of History.”
Bottle that mood on the Mall, spread it from ghetto to suburb, America would forget its post-O.J. trial angst.
It was the most tranquil mass event I’ve seen in Washington. No boozing, rowdiness or anger. “Flawless,” said a Park Service officer.
“I came for unity,” said Antonio Simon, who worked at the Philadelphia Navy Yard. “We must show we’re not criminals, addicts or muggers, but solid brothers. Together, we’ll take back our cities.”
“Beautiful to see young black males and not be scared to death,” said N.Y. Rep. Charles Rangel, a Democrat from Harlem.
“Awesome crowd, a religious feeling,” said Rep. John Lewis, D-Ga., civil rights hero who dislikes Farrakhan. Marveling at the harmonious masses, Rep. Kweisi Mfume, D-Md., sighed, “I’ve been near tears all day.”
Detest him or distrust him, Louis Farrakhan was the prime mover of this black man’s festival. Critics can’t split the message from the messenger. I found no one who totally repudiated Farrakhan.
“He’s not afraid to offend people on top. A lot of it’s envy, sour grapes,” said Charles Smith of North Philadelphia.
At 3:56 p.m. under chilly shadows, Farrakhan began orating in a loopy style that made Fidel Castro seem taciturn. Comparing himself to Newton, Einstein, Moses and Jesus, he said the march was his “like it or not.”
Voice cooing scorn, Farrakhan answered Clinton’s attack: “You spoke ill indirectly of me. I must tell you, Mr. President, I’m not a malicious person. I’m the doctor who points out what’s wrong.” That, no surprise, turned out to be white America. “The root of suffering is white supremacy,” Farrakhan said. “You are sick, America, you need help.”
Yet, he waved an olive branch at Jews. “If you can talk to Yasser Arafat, why can’t you talk to us?”
Farrakhan ended his diatribe with the crowd raising fists and chanting, “I pledge from this day forward, I will never raise my hand with a knife or gun to beat, cut or shoot any family member or human being except in self defense.”
Fine. The Nation of Islam monologist rambled for 2 hours, 29 minutes. On this Mall 32 years ago, the Rev. Martin Luther King’s “I have a dream” speech lasted 19 minutes. Any doubt whose words will reverberate longer? I suspect Louis Farrakhan’s national role is limited. Matched against Jackson’s fading star or Powell’s potential, he’s a tainted preacher, not a political player.
But the Nightmare in a Bow Tie was a clear winner. When Farrakhan blew his trumpet, thousands of black men heard a new, proud music.
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