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I had always been very careful to stay completely clear of any personal closeness with any of theMuslim sisters. My total commitment to Islam demanded having no other interests, especially, I felt,no women. In almost every temple at least one single sister had let out some broad hint that shethought I needed a wife. So I always made it clear that marriage had no interest for me whatsoever; Iwas too busyEvery month, when I went to Chicago, I would find that some sister had written complaining to Mr.Muhammad that I talked so hard against women when I taught our special classes about the differentnatures of the two sexes. Now, Islam has very strict laws and teachings about women, the core of thembeing that the true nature of a man is to be strong, and a woman's true nature is to be weak, and whilea man must at all times respect his woman, at the same time he needs to understand that he mustcontrol her if he expects to get her respect. But in those days I had my own personal reasons. I wouldn't have considered it possible for me to loveany woman. I'd had too much experience that women were only tricky, deceitful, untrustworthy flesh.I had seen too many men ruined, or at least tied down, or in some other way messed up by women.　Women talked too much. To tell a woman not to talk too much was like telling Jesse James not to carrya gun, or telling a hen not to cackle. Can you imagine Jesse James without a gun, or a hen that didn'tcackle? And for anyone in any kind of a leadership position, such as I was, the worst thing in theworld that he could have was the wrong woman. Even Samson, the world's strongest man, wasdestroyed by the woman who slept in his arms. She was the one whose words hurt him.　I mean, I'd had so much experience. I had talked to too many prostitutes and mistresses. They knewmore about a whole lot of husbands than the wives of those husbands did. The wives always filledtheir husbands' ears so full of wife complaints that it wasn't the wives, it was the prostitutes and mistresses who heard the husbands' innermost problems and secrets. They thought of him, andcomforted him, and that included listening to him, and so he would tell them everything.

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"You saw them all crying over their physical dead," I told our group when we got inside. "But theNation of Islam is rejoicing over you, our mentally dead. That may shock you, but, oh, yes, you justdon't realize how our whole black race in America is mentally dead. We are here today with Mr. ElijahMuhammad'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 thatillustrated Mr. Muhammad's teaching, "Christians have their funerals for the living, ours are for ourdeparted."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 orsister a prayer to Allah. Next I read a simple obituary record of his or her life. Then I usually read fromJob; 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.To the audience before me, I explained why no tears were to be shed, and why we had no flowers, orsinging, or organ-playing. "We shed tears for our brother, and gave him our music and our tears whilehe was alive. If he wasn't wept for and given our music and flowers then, well, now there is no need,because he is no longer aware. We now will give his family any money we might have spent."Appointed Muslim Sisters quickly passed small trays from which everyone took a thin, round patty ofpeppermint candy. At my signal, the candy was put into mouths. "We will file by now for a last lookat our brother. We won't cry-just as we don't cry over candy. Just as this sweet candy will dissolve, sowill our brother's sweetness that we have enjoyed when he lived now dissolve into a sweetness in ourmemories."I have had probably a couple of hundred Muslims tell me that it was attending one of our funerals fora departed brother or sister that first turned them toward Allah. But I was to learn later that Mr.Muhammad's teaching about death and the Muslim funeral service was in drastic contradiction towhat Islam taught in the East.　We had grown, by 1956-well, sizable. Every temple had "fished" with enough success that there werefar more Muslims, especially in the major cities of Detroit, Chicago, and New York than anyone wouldhave guessed from the outside. In fact, as you know, in the really big cities, you can have a very bigorganization and, if it makes no public show, or noise, no one will necessarily be aware that it isaround.But more than just increasing in numbers, Mr. Muhammad's version of Islam now had been getting insome other types of black people. We began now getting those with some education, both academic,and vocations and trades, and even some with "positions" in the white world, and all of this wasstarting to bring us closer to the desired fast car for Mr. Muhammad to drive. We had, for instance,some civil servants, some nurses, clerical workers, salesmen from the department stores. And one ofthe best things was that some brothers of this type were developing into smart, fine, aggressive youngministers for Mr. Muhammad.　I went without a lot of sleep trying to merit his increasing evidences of trust and confidence in myefforts to help build our Nation of Islam. It was in 1956 that Mr. Muhammad was able to authorize Temple Seven to buy and assign for my use a new Chevrolet. (The car was the Nation's, not mine. Ihad nothing that was mine but my clothes, wrist watch, and suitcase. As in the case of all of theNation's ministers, my living expenses were paid and I had some pocket money. Where once youcouldn't have named anything I wouldn't have done for money, now money was the last thing to crossmy mind.) Anyway, in letting me know about the car, Mr. Muhammad told me he knew how I lovedto roam, planting seeds for new Muslims, or more temples, so he didn't want me to be tied down.In five months, I put about 30, 000 miles of "fishing" on that car before I had an accident. Late onenight a brother and I were coming through Weathersfield, Connecticut, when I stopped for a red lightand a car smashed into me from behind. I was just shook up, not hurt. That excited devil had a womanwith him, hiding her face, so I knew she wasn't his wife. We were exchanging our identification (helived in Meriden, Connecticut) when the police arrived, and their actions told me he was somebodyimportant. I later found out he was one of Connecticut's most prominent politicians; I won't call hisname. Anyway, Temple Seven settled on a lawyer's advice, and that money went down on anOldsmobile, the make of car I've been driving ever since.