Will “Hiphop Minister” Conrad Muhammad Go from N.O.I. to G.O.P.?

Written by Adam Heimlich on . Posted in Miscellaneous, Posts.



Conrad Muhammad:
Hey, good brother, what’s happening? What’s going on, man?


Man on 125th St.: I’m
alright, how you doin’?


CM: It’s good to
see you. How’s your family doing? They good? How’s Tony?


M125: He’s great.


CM: You know I’m
running for Congress, right?


M125: Congress?


CM: Did you hear about
it?


M125: You wanna be a
politician?


CM: I think it’s
time that a good strong brother gets into the process, you dig?


M125: It’s all good.


CM: Now, you know me,
I haven’t changed.


M125: Don’t get
in there and sell out.


CM: I won’t do that.
I’ll be the same man I’ve always been. And you know it. And I’m
coming in smokin’, just like that.


M125: Don’t sell
out, man, don’t sell out. The devil is busy.


CM: If I sell out, you
come and get me.


M125: I’m comin’
to get you, yo.




Conrad Muhammad
is the fastest walker in Harlem. The late-afternoon sidewalks are sweltering,
but he’s wearing a suit and tie, keeping a rush-hour pace. Everyone else
is doing that unhurried summer shuffle, or else they’re stationary, under
trees in folding chairs. The former Nation of Islam minister greets them all–heartily,
many by name. When someone replies with more than a greeting, he turns on his
heel without breaking stride to face him. The new perspective might yield a
view of someone else he wants to approach, in which case: zip. It’s like
trying to follow a bumblebee.



"This
community needs someone with young legs, who can walk up and down the streets
of this district and provide leadership to the people," is the first thing
he tells me. He says he walks the streets of Harlem every day. I find out later
that by "every day" he actually means every day he’s not down
in Baltimore–where he was until recently director of outreach for a church–or
up in Mount Vernon, where he’s employed as administrator of a $3 million
grant for city youth programs. There was also some time at Harvard. He did a
lot of walking and greeting as part of his old job, though. Today, the focus
is on what he’d like to be his next–U.S. congressman from the 15th
District–and it’s clear enough that he’s no carpetbagger.


He has a
youthful face to go with his young legs. He’s a natural speaker, with skills
sharpened by a decade of preaching and a mini-career in radio, and he’s
not a bad listener, either. People in Harlem know who he is. To some, no doubt,
he’s just that fast-walking guy with the suit, but Muhammad wouldn’t
have conducted an interview while working Harlem’s streets if the routine
didn’t make him appear widely respected. It does. The question is, Is he
serious? His generational peer across the Hudson, Cory Booker, held political
office and enjoyed outside as well as grassroots support, yet he failed to wrest
power from Newark’s Mayor Sharpe James. Conrad Muhammad may be down with
the regular folks, and they might be tired of the old dandy in office, but a
demonstration of that is not necessarily as impressive as a campaign plan, some
experienced strategists and a volunteer team might have been. Those are not
things he has to show, today at least.



Muhammad’s
most intense period of communication with the people of Harlem was plenty serious.
He was a successor to Malcolm X, heading the Nation of Islam’s mosque No.
7. Many people still address him as Minister, even though he doffed his bowtie
five years ago. A phantom association with the Nation may be a boon to the candidate’s
popularity along Malcolm X Blvd., but it’s also likely to be the main obstacle
between Muhammad and his goal. That’s because the easiest way to acquire
funding to oppose Democrat Charles Rangel, who’s held the House of Representatives’
15th District seat since 1970, would be as a Republican. And the local G.O.P.
is cool on Conrad. The party has said the problem is that he’s a registered
Democrat. Muhammad doesn’t buy it.


"My
whole career has been talking about self-sufficiency, the African-American people
taking their own destiny into their hands," he says. He points out that
he’s a free-marketer, that his message is strong on traditional values
and that the local G.O.P. regularly endorses candidates far to the left of him.
His post-N.O.I. work as "The Hiphop Minister" was undisguised conservative
activism. Furthermore, he adds, the Republicans put Rangel on their line in
several of his 16 successful races. Calling the issue of his party affiliation
"a smokescreen, a red herring," he says he and the Republican leadership
"shouldn’t even be arguing over this. We should be focused on getting
the seat."



Conrad Muhammad: Hey,
brother, how are you? You know I’m running for Congress?


Jamaican Man on Lenox Ave.:
Yes I do. I heard it.


CM: I need your help.



JM: You
Democrat or Republican?



CM: Ah,
I’m running as a Republican.


JM: That’s
not going to work.


CM: Listen
to me: I am a Democrat, but I may have to run as a Republican.


JM: It’s
not going to work.


CM: Remember
Bloomberg was a Democrat all his life. He had to run as a Republican because
the system…


JM: You
don’t want anything to do with that.


CM: You
don’t like the brother.


JM: Nah,
I really don’t.


CM: I
have not liked him in the past, but sometimes–you see, we got too many
people in one club. We got to be in both parties.


JM: They
not gon’ change, boss.


CM Let
me ask you a question: Are you a betting man at all?


JM: Huh?


CM: Do
you bet–are you a betting man?


JM: Yeah.


CM: You
ever go to the racetrack?


JM: Oh
yes.


CM: When
you go to the racetrack, how many–do you bet on one horse, or do you spread
your money around?


JM: Sometimes
three, because sometimes I play the trifecta.


CM: That’s
what I’m saying. In politics you gotta do the same thing. You can’t
have all Democrats. You gotta have some Democrats and some Republicans.


JM: You
have to look at the constituency, you know what I’m saying? These people
are not gon’ change that easily. You have to come up with something real
good for them to do that. I’m telling you. Get with the hiphop crowd and
the old folks and stay right in the middle.


CM: I
know what you’re saying.


JM: And
you will do it, trust me.


CM: And
I can count on your vote?


JM: [Makes
face indicating that he’s not ready to vote Republican]


CM: [Laughing]
Okay, okay.





Muhammad
is 37, divorced, the father of three. His children reside primarily with their
mother in Bethesda, MD, though Conrad shares custody. Despite his comfort in
Harlem, his speaking voice is obviously that of a non-native New Yorker. He
grew up in St. Louis and Washington, DC, middle-class and Christian. He came
to politics and black nationalism simultaneously, while an undergrad at the
University of Pennsylvania, working on Jesse Jackson’s 1984 presidential
campaign. "I became discouraged and almost bitter against the political
process, because I felt that he was disrespected," he recalls, then adds,
"but that was in my immaturity."



That same
year, his 19th, Muhammad joined the Nation of Islam. "I had a lot of faith
in the Nation, pretty much because of the message of self-reliance, family values,
hard work, discipline and clean living," he says. Though Muhammad doesn’t
speak of it, his rise to the top of the local N.O.I. hierarchy suggests that
in his 20s he was extremely effective at communicating the Nation’s message–which,
Nation detractors are quick to point out, has included anti-Jewish and anti-American
rhetoric. He was 32 when he and the Nation parted ways.


"I
just became frustrated with the direction of the movement," he says. "I
believe that as African-Americans we can be critical of this country, but we
have to embrace our American-ness, and we have to embrace the process. I’ve
really grown to believe that we have the best political system in the world.
I’ve grown to appreciate democracy. And I think the Nation is challenged
to embrace those ideas. You may not like the way things are, but you have a
right to say it, and in a lot of countries you don’t."


One of the
stops on Muhammad’s greeting tour is Harlem Underground, a custom hat and
t-shirt store off 125th St. Outside, we run into Carl Redding, proprietor and
chef of the soul-food restaurant Amy Ruth’s. Muhammad introduces us, and
I ask Redding if he’s ever voted Republican. He replies that he has, three
times in fact–for Reagan, Pataki and Bloomberg. Muhammad is engaged in
another conversation at the moment, so I follow Redding into Harlem Underground,
and Muhammad soon enters as well, teasing me about "diving for the air
conditioning."


The candidate,
who had been more than an hour late for our interview, neglected to mention
that it would be conducted while he worked the streets. Redding’s suggestion
that Muhammad purchase an embroidered "Conrad for Congress" cap at
Harlem Underground is what allows an uninterrupted question-and-answer session
to take place. While the hat is being embroidered, he’s stuck. If keeping
a reporter moving shows solid political instincts, Muhammad’s performance
when literally cornered in Harlem Underground indicated acumen extending still
further beyond his ability to connect with a crowd. Which is to say, he was
amiably evasive, saying things like, "I absolutely support the concept
of gun control."


Here’s
the distilled version of Conrad Muhammad on the issues: He’s for the war
and "very supportive" of President Bush’s handling of it so far.
But he’s "concerned" about Ashcroft "overreaching"
on civil liberties. He’s also with the President on welfare, particularly
his approach to "talking about the importance of marriage with regard to
welfare." He’s against discrimination based on sexual orientation,
but would vote "no" on a civil unions bill. He’s pro-life except
in cases of rape, incest or life-of-the-mother-at-stake. And he believes that
the Constitution guarantees the right to bear arms. All of these he frames in
terms of values. He says he wants a society ethical enough that abortions are
rare and citizens feel safe without guns.


In summary,
Muhammad gives a statement that wouldn’t sound off-key at a Republican
National Convention: "I’m a religious man. I think values are important.
I’ve worked in the community a long time. And I know that no amount of
government money can change this community if we don’t have a strong family
value." The only hitch is he refuses to indicate from which religion he’s
currently drawing his values. "We got ’em all here, and I intend to
serve all constituencies," he demurs. "I’m a man of faith, and
we’ll leave it at that."



The
New York Sun reported in its July 5-7 issue that Muhammad plans to convert
back to Christianity. According to the Sun’s Errol Louis, on a Sunday
near the end of June, Muhammad stood alongside Rev. Calvin Butts at Harlem’s
Abyssinian Baptist Church and told the assembled that "at some point in
the future" he will retake his birth name, Conrad Tillard.



New York
Post
columnist Robert A. George is someone who thinks Muhammad could, with
Republican Party support, unseat Rangel. In a scathing June 3 editorial (headlined
"The Grand Old Stupid Party?"), he chided Assemblyman John
Ravitz, Manhattan Republican Party chairman, for giving Muhammad the brush-off.
George quoted Ravitz saying that the former minister should start on the path
to G.O.P. acceptance by campaigning in Harlem for Gov. Pataki’s reelection.


Muhammad
tells me he’d be happy to do just that. "I’ve endorsed him,"
he says. "More has happened in this community under George Pataki and Secretary
of State Randy Daniels than had happened for a long time." Also, he adds,
"I think [Pataki] has done a good deal to help repeal the Rockefeller Drug
Laws, which hurt a lot of African-American young people. Young people’s
lives have been thrown away, and Cuomo didn’t do anything about it."


A more likely
scenario involves Muhammad devoting the summer of 2002 to campaigning for himself.
That’s the case even though the local G.O.P.–even before George’s
Post editorial saw print–endorsed Independence Party candidate Jessie
Fields for Congress from the 15th. (Fields might be as unlikely a Republican
endorsee as Muhammad, or Rangel for that matter. She’s a Harlem doctor
who runs single-issue campaigns about healthcare.) Only hours before our interview,
Assemblyman Ravitz rescheduled a meeting with Muhammad that had been planned
for the following day. The candidate said he was taking steps to enact Plan
B: challenging Rangel in the Democratic primary instead. That would be a David-vs.-Goliath
struggle, to say the least–fighting within a party against its 32-year
incumbent–but, regardless, his Democratic petition drive is already under
way. His only hope to get on the Republican line is to convince Ravitz and the
other G.O.P. leaders to make a second endorsement and force a G.O.P. primary
against Fields.


Assemblyman
Ravitz says that’s not going to happen. Reached via telephone, he said
a primary would "defeat the purpose" of the Fields endorsement, and
that "…our number-one goal should be to support one candidate against
an entrenched incumbent like Congressman Rangel." He refuted the notion
that Fields is less likely than Muhammad to win, calling it "a self-fulfilling
prophecy." Then he lauded the Independence Party candidate and her fellow
endorsees in a way that rather pointedly echoed Muhammad’s portrayal of
himself. "What I’m doing," said Ravitz, "is finding candidates
to run for assembly, for the state Senate and for Congress in Harlem, who really
have a community resume, that aren’t just people who we decided, Hey, it’d
be a great idea for you to run for office. These are people who have invested
their life, their time and energy into so many different parts of their community
that they want to take things to the next level and run for office."


Ravitz said
there are reasons why the G.O.P. is wary of Muhammad, and none of them are secret.
Directing me to the Anti-Defamation League’s website for specifics, he
says, "Conrad knows about the problems with some of the things that he’s
said in the past… I believe he’s going to have to address and deal
with [them]. I think that all of us who are in public life have to be held accountable
for our words, and there are a lot of things that Conrad still needs to work
with–people who are still feeling very hurt about some of those comments."
It’s possible that some of those people have Conrad Muhammad confused with
the late Khalid Muhammad, however. A 1996 ADL press release quotes Conrad Muhammad
calling Jews "bloodsuckers" and Christianity "a dirty religion,"
but his search hits don’t compare to those of the controversy-seeking Khalid,
who was fired from his N.O.I. leadership job in 1994 and picked a fight with
NYPD cops at the Million Youth March four years later.


Whether
as Conrad Muhammad (R) or as Conrad Tillard (D), or vice versa, he plans to
go for it. He believes that enough of Harlem wants to send him to Washington.





Muhammad
says the energy and creativity of his campaign will resonate with the hiphop
generation, with which he has a lot of experience. After he left the Nation,
Muhammad founded A Movement for C.H.H.A.N.G.E. ("Conscious Hip Hop Activism
Necessary for Global Empowerment") and started calling himself "The
Hiphop Minister." He decried the mid-90s flood of lyrics portraying black
communities as nests of degeneracy, and publicly shamed the businessmen who
grew from rich to richer off them. That earned Muhammad the ire of Def Jam’s
founding executive, Russell Simmons, but no artists went on record lashing out
at him. Some of them, perhaps, really were shamed.



Today, Muhammad
characterizes C.H.H.A.N.G.E.’s "Campaign for Dignity" as more
of an esthetics campaign than a political one. "I think my challenge to
[rappers] was a critical challenge," he says. "We used to talk about
white men in Hollywood that put out images of people in our community as pimps
and prostitutes. Now I’m trying to show these young people: Now you are
in the position that you control the imagery and you have to be sensitive to
that. You are in power now–what are you going to do with it?… You
can’t say you love the ’hood, and see the kids in the ’hood listening
to your music and going to jail or dying, and not feel some responsibility."


He says
he achieved the authority to preach to hiphop artists by being there when they
needed him. Men who grew up in communities where the Nation was a stable presence
generally perceive it to be righteous, and when he was a minister Muhammad mediated
between warring rap factions more than once. He settled a dispute between A
Tribe Called Quest and Wrecks-N-Effect with one meeting. He also intervened
in the East-West coastal feud–less successfully, sadly. "I saw Puffy
shed tears up here when Suge Knight was coming down on him," he recalls.
Muhammad says he didn’t feel a need to speak up when artists with underworld
experience started rapping about it, but "I knew that some of the guys
who were doing it were not from a criminal background… I’ve seen these
men offstage, and said to them, ‘I know you. You may project a certain
image, but this is your brother saying to you it’s gone too far–stop
it.’"


It’s
difficult to think of another link, besides the Nation of Islam and its offshoots,
between conservative ethics and rap’s gangsta subculture. An inner-city
Republican who brings to the table the N.O.I.’s success at instilling a
sense of responsibility in antisocial young men without the organization’s
negative baggage would seem, at least on paper, to be a strong candidate. After
all, the hiphop generation is bound to elect someone somewhere, eventually.
Theoretically, Muhammad’s youth angle could give the G.O.P. an edge on
issues that are of perennial concern to black New Yorkers, such as education
and crime. The Republicans already win on taxes and the war. How close is the
reality of Conrad Muhammad to this idealized ghetto-G.O.P. candidate? Maybe
it makes more sense to ask how close the G.O.P. has ever gotten to Conrad Muhammad.





After our
mano-a-mano session, still in Harlem Underground, Muhammad rejoins Carl Redding,
the Reagan-supporting restaurateur. He tells me Redding used to work with Rev.
Al Sharpton. We discuss national politics, and Redding, by way of explaining
how the Clinton years changed his view of the Republican Party for the worse,
recounts a run-in with the current president. "Bush came to Harlem and
I took a picture with him. They were courting me to work on his campaign…handling
the African-American clergy. This was in January [2000]. I thought hard about
it. They offered me six figures. I couldn’t do it," he says.



"Now,"
offers Muhammad, "as George W. Bush and Gov. Pataki are talking about inclusion,
it’s time for a paradigm shift to take place." He says that Democratic
candidates receiving up to and beyond 90 percent of the African-American vote
is not in African-American people’s interest. To Muhammad, it’s realistic
to aim for a 70-30 split. He explains, "It’s not about why we should
vote for Republicans. The question is, Why shouldn’t we place ourselves
in that party and leverage our influence in both parties? Fifty-fifty is not
realistic. But 70-30 is, I think, a winning formula for the African-American
community. Because it makes our 70 percent in the Democratic Party a stronger
70 percent, [because] the fact of 30 percent of us leaving and going to the
Republican Party would make Democrats work harder for the numbers they do have,
and that critical 30 percent in the Republican Party would let them know that
we’re a force they have to reckon with."


As for the
rabid anti-Republicanism of supposedly nonpartisan African-American leaders,
Muhammad says, "It’s immoral in a sense, because our leaders have
betrayed us. Our political leaders have, essentially, a vested interest in delivering
black bodies to the Democratic Party. Almost like a slave trade. And, so, what
it has done is, it has not allowed our community to engage in the free market
of politics. If there’s only one drycleaners on 125th St., chances are
you’re going to get bad service [there]. It’s a captive market–you
don’t have anywhere else to go. But let two or three drycleaners open up.
Competition is good in business, it’s also good in politics."




Conrad Muhammad: How
are you ladies today?


Ladies One and Two outside
of Pentecostal Church: Fine.


CM: Did
you know I’m running for Congress?


L1 and L2:
[Smile and nod]


CM: I
sure could use your help. I’m running against a great man but he’s
just been there too long. I think it’s time for him to let a young man
go forward, don’t you think so?


L1 and L2:
[Smile and nod]


Adam Heimlich:
What do you think of Charlie Rangel?


L1: He’s
a wonderful man.


L2: He’s
a wonderful person. He’s done an extensive job. And continues to do an
extensive job. However, as you say, for a young man to put forth his efforts…


CM: I
told this gentleman right here–in this community we respect our elders.
I would never disrespect Congressman Rangel.


L2: Oh
no, never.


CM: You
don’t disrespect a bridge–


L2: –that
brought you over.


CM: That’s
what my grandmother taught me. But it’s time for a new generation of leadership
to step forward.




Leaving
Harlem Underground, Conrad Muhammad leads me to the Harlem U.S.A. retail complex,
which opened two years ago and is the keystone of Upper Manhattan’s participation
in the federal "empowerment zone" revitalization plan. We stand across
125th St. from the Disney Store, the HMV record store and the Magic Johnson
movie theater, while Muhammad points out another record store, Record Shack,
on the next block east of the shopping center.


"That’s
a business that’s been in this community for 30 years," says Muhammad
of Record Shack. "A small business, and of course Republicans support small
businesses, right? Why would an empowerment zone not give moneys to that store
owner, who’s been here through good times and bad, and then open up an
HMV a few doors down, to drive this man out of business? What kind of community
development and leadership is that? It couldn’t possibly have been thought
through! There’s no clearer metaphor for why I’m running than this
right here. This man has committed 30 years to this community."


The man
Muhammad refers to is Record Shack owner Sikhulu Shange. He and his store have
an interesting history. They were the linchpin of the 1995 controversy that
got out of control and ended with the massacre at Freddie’s Fashion Mart.
It started when Record Shack faced eviction, and ended when a man presumed to
be a former street vendor who’d been forced out by revitalization efforts
(a development that Shange, reportedly, had supported) entered Freddie’s
with a gun and a bottle of lighter fluid and committed mass murder.


Muhammad
doesn’t mention the incident. Instead, he asks me to interview Shange.
The deep-voiced man makes an eloquent complaint about the local government’s
failure to involve him in the changes on 125th St. He seems to be against the
empowerment zone as a matter of anticorporate principle, but allows that "Even
if they brought these companies into the community, they should have empowered
us to compete."


The encounter
with Shange rings a little contradictory, coming so closely on the heels of
Muhammad’s allegory about competition in drycleaning. Similarly, some hot
air is let out of his grand statement about the limitations of what government
money can do for the African-American community when he tells a young mother
that he supports reparations for slavery. On Rangel, too, Muhammad’s efforts
to be the word on the street made flesh have him occasionally spinning in two
directions at once.


Walking
past the 125th St. building that houses Bill Clinton’s office, Muhammad
tells me that rent on the buildings across the street doubled or tripled the
day the former president moved in. He said, "And Rangel invited him in!
Now what kind of leadership is that? You’ve got to have a view of what
the economic consequences are. It got the Congressman good media, but it really
wasn’t a good thing for the district. At the end of the day, that’s
exploitation. I believe in the free market, but the political leadership shouldn’t
speed up the process of people being dispossessed, people being priced out.
That’s not leadership."


In Newark
earlier this year, four-term incumbent Sharpe James portrayed Cory Booker as
an infiltrator, representing interests antithetical to those of the city’s
working poor. The Mayor seemed to have some success at making this characterization
stick, even though at the time of the election Booker resided in a Newark housing
project, as he did throughout his term as city councilman. The tactics Democratic
incumbents tend to use in tight contests against upstarts (Jesse Jackson, for
whom Booker volunteered in ’88, stopped by Newark to call the challenger
"a wolf in sheep’s clothing") is something Muhammad has been
paying attention to. "They brought in all kinds of Democratic leaders,"
he says of James’ campaign. "But even with all they said about [Booker],
he still got almost 50 percent of the vote. So what that says to me is that
the people are ready for a change. The leadership, obviously, isn’t, because
they have a vested interest," he says.


"But
they can’t say that about me in Harlem," Muhammad continues. "Because
this is where I cut my teeth. They saw me out here. I’d like to see Congressman
Rangel say that I’m an outsider."


And what
if he plays dirtier than that, and uses Muhammad’s N.O.I. background to
paint a media portrait of him as a hatemongering, anti-American radical?


"He’s
not a bad guy," Muhammad replies. "But I think his style of leadership
has served its purpose, and the district needs new energy.


For Muhammad
to challenge Rangel and not expect the Congressman to play hardball smacks of
naivete. If he doesn’t drag you into the mud, I suggest, it means you’re
not a threat.


"No,"
counters Muhammad, "I think what it means is he knows he couldn’t
get away with it, politically, in this community. If he did that, I’d go
straight to Washington on a first-class ticket. The people in this district
will not let the media tell them who their leaders should be. And if he tries
to paint me as a negative character, people will rally to my side."




Conrad Muhammad:
How you doing?, how’s it going? Is it your brother that shoots for the
Amsterdam News?


Man 1 at
Vendor’s Table: Nah nah, you’re talking about [name deleted].


CM: You
look just like him! That’s not your brother?


M1: Nah,
that’s not my brother. We’re good friends.


CM: Well
how you doin’?


M1: I’m
fine.


CM: Good
to see you. You know I’m running, right?


Man 2 at
Vendor’s Table: You running against Charlie? You gonna bang Charlie
in the head?


CM: Don’t
you think?


M2: Man,
Charlie been rolling too long. Too long.


Man 3 at
Vendor’s Table: Sipping on too many cocktails. Sold out the empowerment
zone! C’mon.


CM [to reporter]:
You see? The only things I’m telling you are what the people are saying
to me. I have never met this man. And he just told you exactly what I was just…


M3: Well,
you know Charlie’s experienced. You better be ready!


Adam Heimlich:
Are you ready to pull that "Republican" lever to get this man in and
Charlie out?


M3: Well,
he gotta walk the walk, and then he gotta go straight up with Charlie. I want
to see some verbal uppercuts, left-crosses and all that.


M1: The
Republicans endorse him every time, anyway.


CM [to reporter]:
What did I just tell you? See, don’t ask me why I’m running as
a Republican. He ran as a Republican for 30 years!


M2: That’s
right. And he kicks people off the ballot.


M3: Which
you gon’ learn real well!


CM: Believe
me, we’re ready for it.






Conrad Muhammad
got into Harvard to pursue two master’s degrees–one at the School
of Divinity, and another at the Kennedy School, in public administration. It
was in a class for the latter that he read Bernard Crick’s In Defense
of Politics
, which argues that the democratic process, disappointing as
it tends to be, represents the most pragmatic alternative to government by force.
Muhammad says Crick’s book helped him complete his break with the Nation
of Islam’s opinion of what it means to work within the American system.
Crick’s utilitarian perspective seems to have also influenced his somewhat
unorthodox view of the Republican Party.



He’s
currently on hiatus from both Harvard programs. When he applied, he says, Rangel
wrote him a recommendation. "A very strong letter," says Muhammad.
Another connection between the Congressman and his challenger-to-be, according
to Muhammad, is that Rangel is a major shareholder in WBLS, the radio station
that broadcast the Hiphop Minister’s hour-long Sunday Night Live
community-issues program for five years, ending in February.



When I called
the Congressman’s office to get a quote about the brewing race, his assistant
put me straight through to him. But Rangel said little of Conrad Muhammad beyond,
"I don’t know him." After some prodding, he allowed, "When
he was with the mosque I saw him around, but since he left, I haven’t,"
and "I helped him try to get a job once, but that was by telephone."
The Congressman concluded our awkward call by saying, "There’s no
indication that he’s going to run against me or anyone else. So it would
be premature for me to make any comments about non-candidates."


I relayed
the conversation to Muhammad, who was shocked.


"Are
you serious?" he asked. "It’s somewhat baffling… If he doesn’t
know me he’s not doing his job in the district. But he does know me, and
he’s being dishonest with the voters. It’s insincere and disingenuous.
The community of Harlem will not buy that. It’s the wrong approach to a
race that the district wants to see.


"This
is Harlem," Muhammad concluded, "and we let the chips fall where they
may."


..