I saw him in person once. It was during his exile from the ring, after his championship title had been stripped from him by the white establishment that controlled the sport. But to the African American community, he was still “The Greatest,” and in summer of 1967, Muhammad Ali was the Grand Marshal of the annual parade through the Watts section of Los Angeles. My parents, fervent supporters of the civil rights movement, decided to take my brother and I to the parade as an act of solidarity with the people of Watts – whom only two years before had revolted in a spontaneous rebellion against American apartheid. As we drove through Watts, we could still see dozens of burned-out stores.