Richard Pryor: Omit the Logic Page #2

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Something different was happening

with African-American culture.

It had come into its own.

Richard showed up.

And gave it new life.

There used to be

some beautiful black man,

would come through

the neighbourhood,

dressed in African sh*t.

Really nice sh*t, you know.

They'd be, "Peace, love, black is beautiful.

"Remember the essence of life.

We are people of the universe.

"Life is beautiful." My parents go,

"That N*gger crazy."

No-one had heard him using

the N-word the way he does.

He was just starting to do that.

He was tiptoeing into it.

In comedy, you'd just never heard

anything like this.

Richard would nudge this audience

to some kind of feeling

about who they really were.

So, he's telling the joke.

And, er, white guy in the back

says,

"You ought to be glad

I've got a sense of humour."

Richard said, "Yeah, I am glad

you've got a sense of humour,

"because I know

what you do to us N*ggers."

He was acutely aware of the dynamics

of political, racial segregation.

I'd hate to be white...

This audience that

he was playing to was as hip

an audience as you could get.

And they weren't sure

they were going to go along.

That's how radical Richie was.

I think he was very conscious

of what he was doing.

Richard knew how to drop

atomic bomb words.

He knew that words were powerful.

They accidentally shoot more N*ggers

out here than any place in the world.

Every time you pick up a paper,

"N*gger accidentally shot

in the ass."

How do you accidentally shoot

a N*gger six times in the chest?

"Well, my gun fell

and just went crazy."

He was fully blown as Richie Pryor.

It was astonishing.

His point of view, his attack

on the culture from every version.

No holds barred.

Not thinking about a career.

Not thinking about what you have

to do to be right and wrong.

He wasn't a civil rights leader,

like you would say Louie Newton

or Martin Luther King.

But he was somebody who inculcated

the spirit of the movement.

Richard, in Berkeley, was, you know,

a lovable person.

But Berkeley's not the world.

You had to meet the monster.

You had to go through Hollywood.

# Where do I go

when this world forsakes me

# Who do I turn to

when they put me down?

# You are my hope when they all

can't stop me

# You're my beginning, my middle

My end... #

I met Richard Pryor in 1972.

At an upscale garden party

in Beverly Hills.

I asked him what he was doing,

and he said, "Nothing."

I said,

"I know you're doing nothing,

"but what are you working at?"

He said, "I'm not working

at anything. I'm unemployed."

I said, "How long have you been

unemployed?" He said, "A long time."

I said, "Really?

Who's managing you?" "Nobody."

"Whose agenting you?" "Nobody."

He didn't really have any place

to go at that time,

so he took a job,

doing punch-up lines for Red Fox.

I thought, "This is not right."

So, I said to Richie,

"Let's record an album."

Don't ever marry a white woman

in California.

A lot of you sisters are probably,

"Don't marry a white woman anyway,

N*gger."

CHEERING:

"Why should you be happy?"

Sisters look at you

like you killed your mama

when you're out with a white woman.

You can't laugh

that sh*t off either.

"She's not with me."

Richard said, "Look, I know that you

like it and I know that I like it.

"Black people don't like this."

I said, "Richard, I can't

answer that. I don't know."

He said, "Let's hope so.

If not, we're both out of business."

I don't know how you feel

about the title of your album,

but I find it difficult to say.

You do.

Most white people,

it's hard to say "crazy".

No, the title. You tell them the

title of the album. I can't say that.

The title of the album is

"That N*gger's Crazy."

See now, you can just say that.

If I said that, won't you get mad?

I'd punch you out.

When I was in my college years,

we'd get together

and play Richard Pryor LPs

and have listening parties.

My father was fun.

"Hey, b*tch, where the food?"

"Goddamn mother, come on.

Oh, you motherf***er!"

Saying "f***" in those days

was unheard of.

They had blue laws, for crying

out loud. It was just a secret.

It was like learning how to say,

"Motherf***er, b*tch. Kiss my ass."

The people that had it first, I don't

know why. They were pimps and hos.

This is the only guy really touching

on some sh*t like,

"Oh, taboo to other people.

Don't go there."

He was the Messiah - the messenger.

For the real N*ggers in the streets

that wanted to express

themselves but couldn't.

The album was a Grammy award winner.

Number one on the R&B charts

in 1974 for five weeks,

which is unheard of for

a comedy album in the R&B charts.

This was a time when Richard

was moving up very quickly.

It was rather like

being fired out of a cannon.

We hardly ever went

to two gigs in sequence.

From LA, to Washington, back to LA,

to New York, back to LA.

You use the term, "N*gger."

Now, does the black community get

on you for using that on a show?

Sure. How do you answer that?

What do you say?

I say, "N*gger, get out of my face!"

People were fascinated with Richard,

especially white people.

They never heard anybody talk like

that. They were fascinated.

How could this young, black person

have this kind of power?

That's power.

When he would drive down and perform,

word would spread.

Everybody got on the phone and said,

"Richard's at The Comedy Store."

The word got out so quickly

that Richard was backstage

at The Comedy Store.

By the time he got on,

there wasn't a comedian in town

who wasn't in the audience.

I took some acid once, too. A white

dude get me some. At a party.

"This is far out."

Get the f*** out of my face!

About 20 minutes later,

I left the party. I can't breathe!

I don't remember how to breathe!

"I told you it was far out."

When he performed, he would sometimes

make a couple of notes

on the back of an envelope

of some of the things he might do.

He never worked out in advance what

his... It wasn't really a routine.

Every night,

you see something different

that you hadn't seen before.

He would do a riff here and a riff

there. Just spontaneously.

What kind of sh*t

are you handing me?

What the f*** is it? I don't know

what you're handing me to sign.

What the f*** does it say on it?

Champagne! Listen, I ain't signing

for no goddamn champagne.

He was always doing something new.

All of a sudden, "Oh, my God,

look what he's doing now!"

He wasn't just telling jokes,

he was telling stories.

And stories that were so vivid

and so funny

that you had to stay with him.

And you think, "OK, that's amazing."

I mean, he just had

that laser-like wit.

Bringing so much tenderness

to it. Doing the wino on the street.

I'm going to help you, boy, because

I think you've got potential.

That's right. You can do

with some money. You're shot.

You know what I mean?

Try some of that.

Don't you drop it, N*gger.

Put it safe.

Watching the world...

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