Russell Simmons got the reception of a celebrated statesman. The All-Star Marching Band, twirlers and dancers included, performed outside the Shrine of the Black Madonna, and the music he helped put out, by LL Cool J and Run-DMC, blasted loudly as perhaps 400 people filed into the intimate chapel inside the bookstore.

It was an overwhelming showing for a midday book signing in the middle of the week, for a guy who made his fortune behind the scenes as a record company executive. "What do you think?" said Patrick Truesdale. "He is like the black president."

Sean "Solo" Jemison made perhaps an even bolder comparison: "He's almost like MLK," Jemison said, pointing to a book with a black-and-white photo of Martin Luther King Jr. on the cover. "He gave us the avenue for a new type of freedom."

In the 1980s, Simmons helped bring rap to the masses. Along with Rick Rubin, he started Def Jam Records and signed his brother Joey to the label. Run-DMC's cover of Aerosmith's Walk This Way became the first rap single to break the Top 5 on the mainstream charts. It became an MTV staple.

Simmons became a diversified entrepreneur. He founded the clothing lines Phat Farm and Baby Phat, with the help of his partner and estranged wife, Kimora Lee Simmons. His firm Rush Communications raked in upward of $360 million in 2005.

His new book Do You!: 12 Laws to Access the Power in You to Achieve Happiness and Success (Gotham, $25) is a New York Times best-seller.

By 1 p.m. Tuesday, an hour after the scheduled start time, the crowd had grown so large the event was moved from the bookstore into the adjacent Pan African Orthodox Christian Church. After a couple of poetry performances by local artists, Simmons was introduced by Mathew Knowles, father and manager of superstar Beyoncé.

Simmons walked up the altar, unassuming, without his signature cap, wearing an orange T-shirt and jeans. He opened with an apology, sort of. "I was told I was going to a book signing," he said. "So I didn't know what to talk about." People laughed. "But when I saw so many people I got inspired."

Simmons speaks softly with a slight New York accent. He has a small frame — he's a vegan — and a bald head. In brief remarks he talked about spirituality. He touched on Buddhist themes such as atman, or the soul. He talked about the multiplicity of religion. He said despite the fact that the beliefs in Do You! had been touched upon before, he wrote the book because "a lot of our people aren't spoken to directly."

When he opened the floor, the questions rained in: Could he talk about why Public Enemy was fired from Def Jam? (He said they weren't fired.) Could he listen to their CD? (Sure, but the last big acts he signed were Ludacris and Jay-Z.) Or read their book? (No.) Is Houston a waste of time for a fashion designer? (Not really, but you have to be around like-minded people.)

Another person asked about a topic Simmons has been outspoken on in recent months; how much responsibility hip-hop bears for drug use and violence. "The conditions of the community are what we have to look at," said Simmons, "not the poets who describe them." A local music producer in the crowd, "Legendary" Haime, wanted some of Simmons' luck or money to rub off on him. He wanted to talk to the "Grandfather" about how to make tons of money.

Simmons, again, was philosophical. The payoff is not really important, he said. The process is the reward.

Eyder Peralta