Pioneering comedian and civil rights activist
Dick Gregory, who became the first black standup comic to break the color barrier in major nightclubs in the early 1960s, a decade in which he satirized segregation and race relations in his act and launched his lifetime commitment to civil rights and other social justice issues, died Saturday. He was 84.
His death was confirmed on his official social media accounts by his family.
“It is with enormous sadness that the Gregory family confirms that their father, comedic legend and civil rights activist Mr. Dick Gregory departed this earth tonight in Washington, DC.,” his son Christian Gregory wrote.
In a life that began in poverty in St. Louis during the Great Depression, the former Southern Illinois University track star became known as an author, lecturer, nutrition guru and self-described agitator who marched, ran and fasted to call attention to issues ranging from police brutality to world famine.
An invitation from civil rights leader Medgar Evers to speak at voter registration rallies in Jackson, Miss., in 1962 launched Gregory into what he called “the civil rights fight.”
He was frequently arrested for his activities in the ’60s, and once spent five days in jail in Birmingham, Ala., after joining demonstrators in 1963 at the request of the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.
Gregory made a failed run for mayor of Chicago as a write-in candidate in 1967. A year later, he ran for president as a write-in candidate for the Freedom and Peace Party, a splinter group of the Peace and Freedom Party. Hunter S. Thompson was one of most vocal supporters.
In the late ’60s, he began going on 40-day fasts to protest the Vietnam War.
But before Dick Gregory the activist, there was Dick Gregory the groundbreaking comedian.
He was a struggling 28year-old comic clubs when he received a life-changing phone call from his agent in January 1961: The prestigious Playboy Club in Chicago needed someone to fill in for comedian Irwin Corey on Sunday night.
Gregory was so broke he had to borrow a quarter from his landlord for bus fare downtown. Never mind that his audience turned out to be a convention of white frozen-foodindustry executives from the South.
Despite having to deal with what he later described as “dirty, little insulting statements” from some members of the audience, the heckling soon stopped as Gregory won them over with his provocatively funny but nonbelligerent satirical humor.
“Segregation is not all bad,” he said on stage. “Have you ever heard of a wreck where the people on the back of the bus got hurt?” his
By the time he walked off stage, the audience gave him a thundering ovation.
From his success at the Playboy Club, Gregory’s career quickly snowballed.
His act, however, wasn’t all about race relations.
On the bellicose Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev, he mused: “Wouldn’t it be funny if Khrushchev didn’t really hate us, but his interpreter did?”
His activism took a huge financial toll on Gregory in lost bookings and the cost of travel and other expenses. But as he put it: “I found somethin’ that made me feel better inside than comedy.”
In 2016, musician John Legend produced a oneman play on Gregory’s life, “Turn Me Loose.” Legend said he marveled at how fresh and relevant the comedian’s brand of humor of remained.
“It sounds like he’s aware of what’s happening now even though they were written so long ago,” Legend told the Boston Globe.
In addition to his wife, Lillian, Gregory is survived by his 10 children with her.
Dennis McLellan is a former Los Angeles Times staff writer.