Meeting Muhammad Ali
Mbeen printed this week about Muhammad Ali, who died June 3 at the age of 74, discussed the boxing great’s most public acts, including his refusal to be conscripted to fight in the Vietnam War and his civil rights activism.
A smaller number of letters, two of which were published on Tuesday, recount personal interactions with Ali. Nearly two dozen of these letters were submitted, and the portrait they paint is of man both gentle in private and characteristically assertive when provoked, both generous with encouragement for others and accepting of the praise he deserved as an icon.
Here are their letters. — Paul Thornton, letters editor
John Crandell of Sacramento recalls a traffic run-in with Ali:
I’ve forgotten the make and color of the southbound limousine at the intersection of Rossmore Avenue and Wilshire Boulevard one evening so many years ago. The west entrance to Fremont Place intersects with the south side of Wilshire about 30 feet east of the Rossmore intersection.
The license plate on the limo stated “CHAMP.”
I was driving two cars behind and the light turned green. The impatient driver in front of me made the mistake of honking her horn at the limo’s driver, who hit the brakes, slowly turned his head to look out through his rear window and glared.
He stared at her for about 10 seconds, long enough for her to realize she had annoyed Muhammad Ali.
S. John Daniels of Los Angeles remembers bringing a smile to Ali’s face:
I had a chance to meet and briefly speak to Ali. I was working for the Lakers and Kings in the mid-1980s and was in Jerry Buss’ box for a game. Ali was there.
Soon as I got a chance I walked the few rows up to his seats and said to him, “Champ, you were just as important to the movement as Malcolm and Martin.”
He had Parkinson’s disease even then, but a wry smile crossed his face, and I knew I could not have said anything better to him. Nor anything truer.
Woodland Hills resident Carol Levin recalls shaking Ali’s hand:
Back in the mid-1990s, I was fortunate to encounter Ali two or three times at Los Angeles Internationl Airport as I was working as a tour director. Each time he was sitting and entertaining people, mostly children doing magic tricks.
He was nice enough to take the time to shake my hand. Luckily enough, I was smart enough to take the time to shake his.
Paul Shubunka of Santa Clarita was swept up in cheers by Ali’s presence.
In the early 1980s I attended a night of boxing at the Forum in Inglewood, and during the evening Ali entered the building. The crowd, realizing his presence, started to chant, “Ali, Ali, Ali.”
As the chanting grew louder, the Forum began to vibrate with this energy that defies description.
It was a magical moment, and I will never forget that night.