The Hilltop Nation -- Islam Movement Gives Young Tacomans An Alternative To A Life Of Crime And Drugs And May Help Slow The Inroad Of Gangs

TACOMA - ``As-salaam-alaikum!''

The greeting breezes through the door with nearly every customer at Your Fish House Restaurant.

It means ``peace be with you,'' a traditional Muslim greeting. On the crime-ridden Hilltop, it is all most people of any faith want.

The restaurant is owned by members of a small Nation of Islam mosque a few blocks down South K Street.

It is close to what the African-American youths of Bedford-Stuyvesant in Brooklyn sought in Spike Lee's movie ``Do The Right Thing.'' A place with black faces in pictures on the wall; a place to call their own.

Often seen as a fringe, militant group, the Nation of Islam has become a force - locally and nationally - against the crippling effects of gangs and drugs on the black community.

In Los Angeles, the birthplace of the street gangs that have plagued Hilltop, the Nation of Islam has joined with an array of community groups in painting over graffiti, organizing employment programs and patrolling the streets.

Despite recent conflicts with members of the Tacoma mosque, local police acknowledge that the Muslims, along with other churches and organizations, have served as important role models to keep violence down and children from falling into gang association.

After police worked to defuse the tensions between suspected gang-affiliated drug dealers and residents of Tacoma's Ash Street that erupted in a shootout last year, Abdullah Ali, one of the owners of Your Fish House, invited the gang members and associates to the restaurant for sandwiches - and dialogue.

At the Hilltop mosque - so small it doesn't have a formal name - 20 to 30 registered members meet at least four times a week for prayer and study.

Their worship takes place in a small beige building with no outside signs, on the corner of South 23rd and South K streets where drug dealers have been known to ply their trade openly.

Nonmembers - unless they demonstrate a serious interest in joining the mosque - are not allowed inside.

Mosque members include Ali, perhaps the best-known local member, and Anthony Muhammad, another part-owner of the Your Fish House restaurant. Talk often focuses on their leader, Minister Louis Farrakhan, and one of the Muslims' primary tenets, self-respect.

Farrakhan, controversial in the past for anti-Semitic statements, lately has emphasized the need for black people to stop killing themselves with drugs. When he spoke in January at Tacoma's Temple Theatre, nearly 3,000 people came to hear him call for unity among African-American people.

He accuses the white establishment of bringing drugs to black communities to destroy African-Americans.

Even when they don't agree with Farrakhan or the Nation's teachings, residents of Tacoma's black

community admit they're glad to see somebody standing up for African Americans and preaching empowerment.

Some community members say that may be the only way to save young African Americans.

``You give up. You give into the sickness instead of fighting,'' said Devron Whitehead, 18, who moved to the Hilltop a year ago from California. He said he ``affiliated'' with gangs there during his early teens as an alternative to boredom, then broke away.

The Nation, stressing pride and independence, ``is another way to go,'' he said.

Members of the Nation, following the teachings of their founder, Honorable Elijah Muhammad, believe God appeared as the prophet Muhammad and that blacks should eventually form their own nation, independent of whites.

The teachings say that integration of blacks and whites will continue to subjugate blacks.

For Ali, 42, accepting those teachings and the Nation of Islam was no sudden event. It was the last exit off a road paved with frustration, disillusionment and lost heroes.

When President John F. Kennedy was assassinated in 1963, Ali cried alone with his mother.

When Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was gunned down five years later, Ali, then living in Florida, could stand it no more. He said he ran down the street, bashed in a store window and grabbed all the clothes he could.

The following years, during which he moved to the Hilltop to escape the south at age 25, were governed by what Ali calls ``my wicked lifestyle'' - heroin, alcohol and spiritual waywardness.

But he finally was ready to give that up in 1982, when he became a Muslim: He wanted discipline instead of inconstancy, and to take control of his destiny.

Now Ali radiates as he walks through the Hilltop, wearing suits and bow-ties even in the summer.

He has taken the message of self-respect to the streets in his own informal crusade. As he walks, he projects calm in the middle of what police and outsiders would call the danger zone:

The boy's eyes have that rangy look; pupils pointed with the defensive force of anger. He wears cornrow braids in his hair and a bright blue shirt, outward methods sometimes used by gang wannabes to show their allegiance, police say.

He tells a friend he needs to get to Remann Hall, the local juvenile-detention center, to visit somebody.

Ali approaches, takes hold of the boy's shirt and stares down the piercing glance. He says neighborhood boys often wear gang colors just because they're afraid gang members will hassle them if they refuse to join the set.

``You be wearing blues, brother. You're not scared, are you?''

No answer, but the boy's eyes are starting to recede.

``You scared?''

The tension that made his eyes cold and his shoulders hunch and his head cock to the side has passed for the moment, and the boy suddenly looks his age, 11 or 12. Not prematurely dangerous.

``Nah.''

As of late, Tacoma police and Muslims have had some run-ins that have strained relations. The Muslims have charged police with racism and roughing up mosque members, while police say members of the Nation have used race as an excuse to badger police.

Ali has organized a community group to monitor police activity in the area. The group held its first meetings last Friday - top police officials were invited, but only a couple of officers attended, as citizens.

A Justice Department community-relations service mediator is meeting with the group to monitor relationships with police.

The incident that prompted Ali to organize the community group occurred several weeks ago when Ali's daughter was stopped by police for pulling her car onto the sidewalk. A fracas involving police, Ali, his wife and several children erupted after one of the officers referred to the daughter as a ``gal,'' a term Ali found offensive. Several family members were taken to police headquarters and cited for obstructing justice.

Earlier this year, Ali was kept in a patrol car for a long period after he tried to talk some young people out of hanging around down the block from his home.

Tacoma Police spokesman Mark Mann said the youths were throwing stones and could have struck Ali.

``What Abdullah doesn't realize is we were keeping him in the patrol car for his own safety,'' said Mann.

Other families also have had run-ins in which they say police have attacked them; the police respond that they were the ones attacked.

Some community members admire the efforts of Ali and other Muslims to intervene.

Richard Neal watches Ali approach his family's barbershop on the corner of South 16th and South K streets.

``They're well-known. They're well-respected,'' even by gang members, Neal said. He says the gangs and other young people look to Ali as someone who takes pride in himself and shows it with his clean suits and interest in the community.

Lyle Quasim, chairman of the Black Collective, a coalition of Tacoma-area African-American church and community groups, said he doesn't personally subscribe to Farrakhan's religious teachings or messages of black nationalism and doesn't believe a majority of young people do, either.

But he said members of the Nation, particularly Ali and Anthony Muhammad, are effective simply by showing kids on the street that they care.

Farrakhan drew a large crowd when he came to Tacoma, and members of the Nation are hoping more people will attend Farrakhan's scheduled appearance at the Seattle Center Sept. 8.

William Curry, a Parkland resident who attends Pierce College and works at a hazardous-waste treatment plant in Seattle, was one of those touched during the Tacoma appearance. He has been attending prayer services at the mosque and plans to decide soon whether to formally join the Nation.

``There was an awareness, an awakening,'' said Curry. ``I heard him when he said the black family needs to reunify and we need unity in our communities. Myself, I want to contribute.''

Walter Muhammad, Tacoma representative of Farrakhan and minister of the Hilltop mosque, said the mosque's members are more accepted in the community, but that doesn't mean the group has changed or compromised its philosophy - just that the community, torn apart by the drug epidemic, is more receptive to different solutions.

``Now we speak the language,'' he said.

On another walk through the neighborhood, Ali homes in on a young man perched on a fire hydrant. They talk about whose car needs fixing, what's going on in the neighborhood.

Ali checks the young man's back pockets for a telltale bandana - another sign of gang affiliation - but finds none. He sells the boy ``The Final Call'' newspaper, published by the Nation of Islam. Before leaving, he asks:

``Who's the man?''

``Farrakhan,'' the boy mutters, the consonants barely audible, as if a teacher were looming over his desk at school.

Ali senses the lack of enthusiasm. ``Thanks for buying the paper,'' he whispers, and goes on.

But it appears that the boy still is mulling over Farrakhan, and what this figure means to him as he hangs out on the corner of South 23rd and South M streets.

``Black man,'' he concludes quietly as Ali is strolling away. Then:

``Black man!'' The block resonates with the words.

Ali turns, beams, lifts his newspapers high, and shouts from the knees his response.

``There you go, brother! There you go.''