Bill Cosby and Richard Pryor: A Short Memoir of What Happened to Fifty Percent of My Comedy Album Collection

By Warren Perry, Researcher, Catalog of American Portraits    

One day when I was a teenager, circa the bicentennial years, I was rummaging around the house and I found some albums that belonged to my folks.  Some of the titles were never going to hit my turntable—anything by Marty Robbins or Floyd Cramer was pretty safe in its sleeve.  But then I found mom and dad's trove of Bill Cosby albums and heard "The Chicken Heart That Ate New York City" for the first time. 

There  was (this radio program) "Inner Sanctum" where the guy played the organ and then he     would come in—"Good Evening"—and he was so happy—TO SCARE YOU TO DEATH.  And he opened that door (creeee-aaaaakkkk), and then he told you a weird story about his Uncle Harry  who had lost his hipbone or something. But what really scared me was when he CLOSED the door (BOOM)!   I knew somebody was in the house then, and I'd start smearing that Jello. No monster was going to get near me with that Jello on the floor. I've tripped up many a monster with that Jello on the floor, yessiree bob.

So for three and a half decades, I have listened to the chicken heart story on that same beat-up album, over and over again, probably hundreds of times.  The Cos is fun, engaging, and a great storyteller.  He doesn't tell jokes; he tells stories, and they are all crafted like great music—like jazz.

Just around the corner from the moment when I discovered Bill Cosby's jazz, I also discovered Richard Pryor's raw metal.     

Maybe it was the summer of 1976, sometime around then, I was in a record store and found a couple of albums by Richard Pryor.  I had seen him on Saturday Night Live and thought I would give him a test drive.  As soon as I put on one of my new Pryor albums, I realized that this would probably have to be material I reviewed when mom and dad were elsewhere.  The only thing Richard Pryor's comedy had in common with Bill Cosby's was that Pryor was also a storyteller; he didn't tell jokes.  His vulgarity was ear-singeing and his subject matter was crass.  And man, was he funny.

I am pressed to think of a Richard Pryor routine that can be discussed in this venue.  Even if the subject matter was printable, the language would not be.  Some of Pryor's album titles and routines were and are still "R-rated."  And then one time late in my junior high school years, my mother found my Pryor collection and listened to part of it with my dad and one of my uncles.  I remember her saying, "You no longer own these albums."  And then the albums disappeared.

Both comedians were innovators, both had significant impact in entertainment, both made millions, and both won the Mark Twain Prize for American Humor.  However, they each had different ways of getting to their respective destinations.  Cosby began his series of intermittent television successes in 1965 with his role as Alexander Scott on I Spy.  Later, Cosby's The Cosby Show anchored NBC's Thursday night beginning in 1984, running to superior ratings for eight seasons.  Richard Pryor was a staple in American comedy for his entire adult life, though he spent no small time fighting his own demons.  In 1986, he was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis; Richard Pryor died in December, 2005.