The wrath of Farrakhan

So Louis Farrakhan has apparently given his last public address and it takes me back to one of the most surreal nights of my life -- my evening with the Nation of Islam. It was 1991-ish, and I was working on the college paper when the minister came to town and like I did when the president or Jimmy Buffet or the governor of New York or Bishop Tutu came calling, I decided I'd use my pseudo press credentials to see what the big deal was.

I arrived at the King Street Palace, a 60-year-old but recently renovated venue in a moderately sketchy part of town, about a half-hour early since I wanted to take some pictures and I needed to track down my contact. What I didn't realize was that I also was going to need to pass through security. Now, I've been to the White House and I've been to the Kremlin -- I've even flown commercial airlines from DC to NYC -- but I've never been more closely scrutinized than I was by the Nation of Islam security detail. These guys don't play. Nor do they smile.

So, I get inside and I'm seated around the third row, just left of center. I'm not sure what the capacity at the Palace was (it's condos now) but I'm pretty sure we were at capacity + 10% or so. Yet even with the standing-room-only crowd, I was afforded the luxury of an open seat on either side of me. I'm trying to come up with a fitting metaphor to describe how conspicuous I was but it's escaping me. I wasn't the only caucasian in the room, but I believe I was 25% of them. There was a reporter from one of the TV stations, a little blond woman, who stayed for all of ten minutes -- she didn't even bother with a seat and left while the warm-up pass-the-collection-plate guy was still on stage. Also, a couple friends of mine from school were there. We came separately, but I caught up with them after (they weren't hard to spot) and found out they'd been stuck standing through the whole thing all the way in the back.

Anyway, eventually Mr. Farrakhan took the stage and went through his pitch. I have to say, he was an excellent speaker. There's not a lot I agreed with in his speech, and frankly I don't remember much of the content at this point, but he had his audience enraptured. And this wasn't a Nation of Islam crowd, this was just a large sampling of the black community in Charleston who were curious about what he had to say, and I think it's a safe bet he swayed a few minds to his way of thinking -- at least judging from how well his collection plates (buckets, actually) were filled by the end.

Most amusing moment: As the entire audience bowed their heads while Mr. Farrakhan said a prayer he referred to the fine people here in Charleston, North Carolina, at which point the entire congregation in the King Street Palace corrected him with a quietly murmured "South Carolina."

Most unnerving moment (other than the body guards that appeared to be staring at me the entire time): There was one point in the speech where Farrakhan said something the the effect that the white media would be distorting what he said here tonight; at which point I glanced around realized that everyone I could see was looking right at me as I sat there with my empty-seat buffer, a camera in one hand, notebook in the other.

I'm not sure I'd do it again, but I enjoyed my evening with minister Farrakhan. Oh, and sorry, I guess there was no "wrath;" sometimes the headline's more important than the story; just ask the New York Post.

Ed. note: The photo is indeed from that evening. Unfortunately I'm unable to locate the photos I took inside the venue nor the poster for the event that I "borrowed" from a street corner somewhere nearby.