Richard Pryor by Lily Tomlin (Entertainment Weekly)
Hyfler/Rosner
I'LL NEVER FORGET MY FIRST GLIMPSE OF RICHARD Pryor,
on The Ed Sullivan Show in the late '60s, performing a fairy
tale about a "Primpce" and a "Primpcess." I was mesmerized
by his heartbreaking wit, full of hurt and truth. Even then,
his expression of personal experiences was unique-blending
chaos and compassion, vulnerability and bravado, attitude
and insight.
I immediately wanted more than anything to work with
Richard. So in 1973, I developed a set especially for him,
hoping he'd see that I was a "white girl with soul." Soon,
Richard started talking about us working together, and he
performed on my first two television specials that same
year. How lucky I was to work with him.
I was with Richard when Berry Gordy called to rave over his
Oscar-quality performance in Lady Sings the Blues. Richard
hung up and became that 6-year-old Primpce from the Sullivan
show-shy, hopeful, and suddenly terrified, as if he had
pulled off something he'd never expected. That moment showed
me the secret of Richard's humor-the juxtaposition of his
relentless, take-no-prisoners imagination with the poignancy
of his poetic interpretation. He constantly tested the
boundaries and seldom experienced internal limits on his
expression. All external limits had long been lost on him.
The last time I saw Richard, I was in the audience at the
Santa Barbara film festival honoring him for his work. For
almost two hours, I watched the greatest pioneering comic
artist of the last three generations at the top of his
genius-this gifted, raging, soaring, plummeting, deeply
human man with the tender boy inside. I wept and I
laughed-inspired, moved, and grateful to have been present
when this revelation, Richard Pryor, was so actively in our
lives-and in our faces. (Pryor died of a heart attack in Los
Angeles.)