Robert Muhammad, for his part, issued an open letter in which he said the Nation "will do nothing to hurt or harm what [Quanell] is attempting to do of good." On the other hand, Muhammad wrote, "If he goes contrary to the teachings of the Honorable Elijah Muhammad, it will bring him down.
"The Honorable Louis Farrakhan and we who follow him pray that Allah will bless Brother Quanell to return to the fold when his time is up ... As-Salaam Alaikum."
Quanell isn't sure he'll ever return to the local mosque. He never mentioned it, but another section in the Autobiography dealt with Malcolm's life after leaving the Nation.
"I knew better than all whites knew, and better than nearly all of the black 'leaders' knew, that the most dangerous black man in America was the ghetto hustler," Malcolm wrote. "The ghetto hustler is internally restrained by nothing. He has no religion, no concept of morality, no civic responsibility, no fear -- nothing."
Malcolm wanted to gather Harlem's hustlers and take them to places like Little Rock and Birmingham, where black people were getting beat up. Malcolm's hustlers would not get beat up. He had great plans, but he began receiving death threats and then black Muslims began following him, and on February 21, 1965, as he stood to speak in Harlem's Audubon Ballroom, he was shot by several men. He died at the age of 39.
In case someone is following, Quanell drives fast now. His driver's license gives only the address of the Nation of Islam, and his phone number is unlisted. Still, he said, he gets death threats. He stays on his toes. In restaurants, if he can't get a black waiter to look out for him, he'll go into the kitchen himself to watch the white cooks prepare his food. He said he didn't fear white reporters, but inside his apartment, Quanell made a point of mentioning that a bodyguard was upstairs. His backup was not vigilant, however. The toilet soon flushed, and there came the sound of a shower.
In the living room, Quanell sat away from the windows. Above one of the red couches was a large photo of his younger brother, dead in his coffin. Otherwise, amid sketches of Elijah Muhammad, the velvet painting of Farrakhan and a giant portrait of Malcolm X, there were photos of Quanell himself, making speeches.
He said the MFOI will fight for reparations to the descendants of slaves, and it will support black politicians and will help to establish a black economy. There was so much the MFOI would do, but Quanell eventually boiled it down to just this:
"Why not start a gang that will stop those police officers from doing what they do to our people?" he asked. "We got to have that kind of gang!''
A gang that will fight Quanell's war in the name of the people: Why not? Quanell has been a gang leader before. If gang members will kill over who's wearing a blue rag and who's wearing a red one, he said, "Can you imagine what these brothers will do if we change their thought processes?''
The afternoon began filling then with unanswered questions. Quanell flashed a copy of what he said was an MFOI magazine, but he wouldn't allow it to be read. The MFOI has an 800 number, but no one answers it. Brothers were training at that very minute, he swore, but he wouldn't display a single soldier.
Upstairs, the bodyguard had finished his shower. He came down, said goodbye and walked out the door. Quanell sat alone with his back to the wall, still talking about revolution.
