Somebody called me and asked me if I'd chair this meeting, moderate this meeting. So I arrived and Bayard [Rustin] and Jim Farmer were representing integration and Malcolm and Bill Worthy were supposed to speak for separation. Bayard didn't show. So Jim Farmer came to me and said, "I feel that since Bayard isn't here, I would like for Mr. Malcolm and Mr. Worthy to speak and then I could speak last, since I'm only one [representing integration]." So I went over and I said, "Mr. X, Jim feels, cause he's all alone on the platform that he was wondering if he could speak last." Malcolm looked at me and said, "I was born last, and I intend to stay last." Some introduction. So that's the way we did it.
People called him Mr. X?
I called him that. Then I took to calling him Mr. Malcolm. But I think I just said Mr. X. After that I called him Mr. Malcolm.
Did you like him?
Oh immensely. He was just like some sort of ambassador.
I remember before he was killed. I called him. He was burned out. Somebody gave me his number. I called him and I said, "You know I'd love to come hear you speak." He said, "Well you know, we're not encouraging your people, but if you want to come next Sunday, you could sit in the wings, just come and sit." There were some white people there. And then it was Sunday, and I had to do something with [my son] Christopher, so I didn't go. That was the day he was shot. I was just as glad I hadn't gone. But I remember hanging up, because Malcolm -- he didn't sound like he was scared, but he sounded like he thought he was going to get killed. I was working at the Telegram then [the New York World-Telegram and The Sun newspaper]. I hung up and I said, "You know, this country is crazy. I mean, I think Malcolm X really thinks he'll be shot. Imagine that?" And then he was shot. Shows my judgement.
Peter Goldman [a journalist who wrote The Death and Life of Malcolm X] knew him far better than I did. The longest conversation I had with him was the night before the Liston - Clay fight. It was strange his naiveté and the amount of hope he had for white people. Very strange.
You know, all these guys have it if you talk to them long enough. It comes out. I mean Al Sharpton is that way. Hope that white people will get better. Malcolm said to me, when we were talking, he said, "Well -- Jesse's that way too." Jesse Jackson.
I was having breakfast with him [Jackson] oh, about three or four years ago, and he always sort of treated me as though I was a government auditor. And we were having a sort of edgy conversation. I always liked him a lot, but I've just never been able to reach him. And he said, "There's something in your voice that sounds Southern." I said, "Well my mother was from Virginia, so there might be a few of those [influences], there can't be many left. As far as I know my voice sounds like Groucho Marx." He said, "No, there's something Southern. I knew there was something Southern about you. I knew that was why I like you."
Malcolm said to me, "You know if you find a white guy who is a Southerner, he's better than any other white guy." He didn't say that to me because he thought I was a Southerner. And I thought to myself, 'If you knew that's part of their fooling colored people.' You know, but I didn't feel I could say that.
Interview with journalist Murray Kempton 1994
Malcolm X was assassinated on February 21, 1965
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