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Posted: Sunday April 3rd, 2005 12:15 |
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I am going to keep this one brief as there is so much information and
interviews tacked on the end of my thoughts… that to write too much
will be
tedious for all. I personally found this to be a remarkable read, due
to
the amazing detail and open honesty of Robert Beck…
This is not to say that I agreed with all his actions… but in this
particular case it is well illustrated that the choices that his mother
made
(terrible choices in my book) led to him becoming Iceberg Slim. I can
honestly say that the book led me to think about the devastating ripple
effect that the wrong choice can have on someone’s life.
Although, his mother’s behaviour is no excuse for the person he became…
It
gave me a great degree of compassion for both Iceberg Slim the pimp,
and
Robert Beck the man.
Iceberg Slim, also known as Robert Beck, was born as Robert Lee Maupin
in
Chicago, Illinois on August 4th, 1918. He spent much of his childhood
in
Milwaukee and Rockford, Illinois before returning to Chicago as a
teenager.
His father having abandoned them, Slim's mother supported the family
by
working as a domestic and operating a beauty shop. He credits his
mother for
having prepared him for the pimp lifestyle by pampering him during his
childhood.
Iceberg attended Tuskegee Institute briefly in the mid 1930's, at the
same
time Ralph Ellison was there, however they did not know one another.
At 18, Robert began his initiation into "the life", adopting his nom
de
guerre, "Iceberg Slim" and remained a pimp until age 42, predominantly
in
the Chicago area. He was incarcerated several times in conjunction with
his
crimes, including a stretch in Leavenworth and spent a 10 month prison
sentence in solitary confinement at Cook County House of Corrections in
1960. It was this last stretch that finally motivated Iceberg to
"square
up", and take to writing about his life experiences rather than
pursuing a
life of crime.
Slim moved to California in the 1960's to pursue the a normal life,
and
changed his name to Robert Beck, using the last name of the man his
mother
was married to at the time.
He published his first autobiographical novel, Pimp: The Story of My
Life
in 1969 published by Holloway House. He found his book being shelved
next to
other black authors of the angry 60's like Eldridge Cleaver's Soul On
Ice
and Malcolm X's The Autobiography of Malcolm X. As the climate shifted
to
the more militant black political movements in the 1970's, Slim had an
opportunity to meet Huey Newton and other members of the Black Panther
Party, whom he admired greatly. He considered his success as a pimp as
a
blow against white oppression. The Black Panthers, however, had little
mutual regard for Slim, considered his former profession as little more
than
the exploitation of his people for personal gain.
Slim's books were met with great success and immediately garnered
widespread attention. The film rights to Pimp were purchased by
Universal
Pictures following the success of The Godfather, however the project
was
considered "too hot" and put on hold indefinitely. However, in 1973
Trick
Baby was made into a film directed by Larry Yust. The cast included
Kiel
Martin as "White Folks"; Mel Stewart as "Blue Howard"; and Ted Lange as
"Melvin the Pimp". [NEWSFLASH: I just found out that this was recently
released on video - check your local (cool) independently owned video
store,
or buy it.].
There have been rumors that a film based on Pimp is now in
production,
with both Ice-T and Ice Cube vying for the leading role. By the way,
both
"Ices" cite Iceberg Slim as an early inspiration, and paid homage to
him by
adopting his name. UPDATE: It looks like Ice Cube has gotten the part
for
the upcoming film, check out this article from MTV.com, though since
this is
dated May 2000, the production may have been postponed. Here's another
(undated) blurb from Rolling Stone.
Iceberg Slim passed away April 28, 1992 at age 73.
Hustler's Glossary (excerpt)
One of the more entertaining aspects of Slim's books are the glossaries
in
the back which define key terms of " the life ". These glossaries have
become important sources for dictionaries of slang and studies on black
English, in which he is cited repeatedly as a source. These definitions
come
from Pimp: The Story of My Life.
• bottom woman: pimp's main woman, his foundation
• breaking luck: a whore's first trick of a working day
• chili pimp: small-time, one whore pimp
• jasper: lesbian
• macking: pimping
• square up: to get out of the life
• to pull someone's coat: to inform and teach
Subcultural Relevance
Iceberg Slim may seem like an unlikely success, however his gritty
depictions of the life in the mean streets of Chicago in the 40's and
50's
have a virtually universal appeal. To date, Slim's books have sold more
than
6 million copies making him one of the most successful black American
authors in history.
Ironically, despite his commercial success, and his status as a
"local
hero" to kids on the street, he remained an outsider in the "square"
black
community, leading him to comment: "I am a loner to the extent that I
put my
own shadow outside the door and lock it out."
His novels, however, were included in a literature course at Harvard
University called "The Rogue Novel". Despite his criminal trade, and
his now
politically incorrect attitude towards women, his rags to riches story
remains uniquely American, full of jazz age color and character.
His books, translated into German, Spanish and French have captured
the
imagination of European readers as much as they have in America.
Los Angeles Free Press
Volume 9 No. 8 (issue 397)
February 25 - March 2, 1972
PORTRAIT OF A PIMP
Helen Koblin
Iceberg Slim is, in reality, Robert Beck, an elegantly handsome black
man
perhaps in his late forties or early fifties. Standing at six foot
three, he
is lithe and loose, resembling a man in his thirties. For the last
dozen
years or so, after the abandonment of his former life as a pimp, he has
been
dedicating his extraordinary energy and intellectual prowess to "good
works."
As a retired pimp, he weaves exotic tales from his past into a
tapestry
that staggers the mind because it is a reality. He has had four books
published to date. They are: Pimp, Mama Black Widow, Trick Baby, The
Naked
Soul. Pimp and Trick Baby are soon to be released as films. His works
repetitively expose and vilify that portion of humanity that are the
street
hustlers.
In the past, he was the embodiment of what is known in street jargon
as
"the life." Since the death of his mother, he has altered his life
style
totally. Now, married, with two children, he has been reborn a writer,
a
black artist with a social conscience. In addition he is an eloquent
dramatic speaker who easily waxes poetic on the baser topics - no
simple
matter.
Iceberg Slim has lectured at colleges and universities, and is well
received by students everywhere. He feels he is in the process of
learning,
in all areas, and hopes to become a positive force in the black
community.
The only perceivable vestige of his former life which one can find
fault
is possibly in a vaguely condescending attitude toward women. This is
revealed in the latter portion of the interview.
Torn by the guilt connected with his past, the loss of his mother,
the
guilt-love object who was perhaps the most powerful force in his life;
he is
now inspired to give back what he so brutally took. Robert Beck emerges
a
strange mosaic of a hideous past, an optimistic present and a prophetic
future, a valuable man, whose life chronicles thirty years of history
in
Black America.
Koblin: Mr. Beck, are most pimps black?
Beck: I wouldn't know that. I would suspect though because of the
disproportionate majority of white people that there might very well be
more
white pimps than black. But I would say that black pimps are the best
because of the crucible in which they operate.
Koblin: Do pimps hate their whores?
Beck: Well, not necessarily consciously. The best pimps that I have
known,
that is the career pimps, the ones who could do twenty, maybe thirty
years
as a pimp, were utterly ruthless and brutal without compassion. They
certainly had a basic hatred for women.
My theory is, and I can't prove it, if we are to use the criteria of
utter
ruthlessness as a guide, that all of them hated their mothers. Perhaps
more
accurately, I would say that they've never known love and affection,
maternal love and affection. I've known several dozen in fact that were
dumped into the trash bins when they were what?.... only four or five
days
old.
Koblin: You say you loved your mother in your book.
Beck: Of course, but underneath the threshold of consciousness, I know
that
I must have hated her, as demonstrated by my neglect of her through the
years.
Koblin: Did you ever pursue any activities outside pimping?
Beck: No, when I was pimping, I was all pimp, unfortunately. I remember
when
I was a young pimp, and that's where the thrill is... when one is young
enough and enforced enough and ill enough to want to be a pimp. That's
where
all the glory is, when one is playing Jehovah so to speak, and learning
his
craft.
Then oddly enough and disappointingly enough, when one learns to
control
eight or nine or ten women; then all the luster, all the glory is gone.
It's
much like learning to ski. One just does it automatically.
Then of course, all the clothes and diamonds and the cocaine, and the
girls, it isn't really important. There is a vacuum that is filled by
the
joy of learning the intricacies of being a pimp. But it was the
greatest
letdown because I was reaching always.
Then I was thirty and looked like a teenager. I was most fortunate
with
all the debauchery, all of the horrible things I did to my body, I
never
really showed it. You see; it wasn't the face of Dorian Gray at any
point.
So you see, my ruin was inherent in my preservation. I could go on
and on
because young girls, beautiful young girls related to me and found me
fascinating because I was so terribly and devastatingly youthful
looking.
You see what I'm saying.
Koblin: Yes, and I could say that the same is still true.
Beck: Oh no, no! I'm a trillion now, you see, but then....
Koblin: You've been out of "the life" for about ten years now. Is that
correct?
Beck: Longer, as I described in .... the steel casket was the last bit.
When
I was apprehended for an escape thirteen or fourteen years before
then.... I
might add a miraculous escape.... one that they had no idea as to how
it had
been accomplished. I just vanished like a wisp of smoke. There were no
bars
sawed, and no screw's head busted. I just left. But I was apprehended
for a
bit of stupidity.
I had been convinced by a hustler, an ex-pimp, a really terribly
ancient
old man, who had stopped pimping. To earn his bread for sustenance, he
sold
whorehouse costumes. He had a list of whorehouses throughout the United
States where he would go to sell his wares; you know, the little
diaphanous
costumes that are prerequisites for whorehouse girls to wear.
Koblin: Do you miss "the life"?
Beck: No, but after all, after you have been a pimp, and it's the
bedrock of
all male aspiration, if only in fantasy. For really what is the bedrock
of
all male aspiration if it isn't [censoredword] and money? Now here the pimp, what
has
he got? All kinds of beautiful girls, who bring him [censoredword] and money.
Kiss and
suck and love him.... on the surface of course, because beneath they
really
pray for his ruin.
So you see how utterly poisoning and trapping it all is. Once anybody
has
pimped he is in trouble because this is what the male aspiration is....
whether he is the president of a white corporation, of General Motors
for
example. It all boils down to the same thing.... Power.
Koblin: Did you handle mostly black women in your stable?
Beck: In the book Pimp, I do not mention any white women that I
handled, but
the truth was that when I was young, I was absolutely irresistable to
white
women. But they were brittle, absolutely brittle.
Koblin: Are you saying that they weren't marketable?
Beck: Oh, yes tremendously marketable, but they wanted to be petted and
pampered. I was in the street, and I didn't have the face to do this. I
was
all pimp. There wasn't one scintilla of gigolo in me. I was
uncompromising,
absolutely uncompromising.
White women coming from the white world were fascinated with me. They
had
perhaps seen me in cabarets, or in Marshall Fields. Then they would
smile at
me and then we would talk and then they would follow me like little
pastel
puppies to where ever I wanted them to go, because I was sick and ill
and a
monster. But I was Svengali, or Rasputin, if you wish, so what could
they
do? But then they were introduced to the harsh reality of a
sixteen-hour day
with no days off....
Then there was that horrible thing of the family of whores,
particularly
my bottom woman who had incensed hatred for the so called alabaster
super[censoredword]. (Bottom woman is that whore most trusted and relied upon by
the
pimp- the favorite in an intellectual sense.)
You know, black women have always felt overshadowed by the white
woman,
and justifiably so, because the economic and sociological pyramid in
America
has the white man at the apex, then the white woman, then the black
man....
and there down in that abyss of frustration and trauma is the black
woman.
So you see, it set up so much negative dynamism in the stable.
I was always bringing some luscious white woman into the stable and
saying
'Well here is Patricia; here is Diane.' And tell my "bottom women",
'You
show her!'
You see, I never went into the street and showed anybody anything. I
never
lived with no whores. There are bums you know that live in some house
with a
bunch of whores, but I always held above it.... high up above them
there, a
perpetual puzzle like God Almighty Himself, and I sexed more with
conversation than I ever did with my penis or my tongue.
Here again, I was using hypnosis and Power, Power. I used to laugh,
when
I'd see some fellow who was all tired and fatigued, and maybe he had
three
little girls and he was trying to sex them all physically.
Koblin: Then pimping is really a psychological adeptness?
Beck: Well, if you know how to pimp. If you're just some fellow with
dimples, and your hair springs from your scalp in great voluptuous
waves,
and your pretty, well then your gonna rely on your beauty instead of
your
skull.
I was never the best looking, nor the best pimp. Among my
contemporaries,
there were fabulous people.... young, black pimps, well, hybrids
really,
racial hybrids, who were beautiful. And I had to have an edge. My edge
was
always class. Even though I used drugs, I would never stay out with the
pimps till 6 or 7 in the morning. I'd drink a quart of milk, no
cocaine....
you see, I was about to go to sleep.
Koblin: What about a black pimp? Isn't he primarily interested in
money?
Beck: Yes, but a black pimp is so filled with hatred that he is never
sweeter than the money. It is kick, kiss, kick, kiss, kick, kiss! He
takes
everything and gives up nothing, and women need love. I don't know
anything
about the anatomy of love.... but I would say an element of concern and
compassion would be included.
Koblin: However, when you became a pimp, didn't you have the same thing
in
mind as the white man.... money and power?
Beck: Yes, the end result was, but....
Koblin: You mean that was not your goal?
Beck: A black young man does not have the premeditated conscious
insight as
does a white young man when he sets out to destroy people to become a
millionaire. It is for the black man, a survival. It is a ghetto kid,
deprived of fatherhood, raised by his mother who has no father either.
He
searches for his father image and sees Dandy Bill or Lovely Louie and
these
are the people in his environment whom he wants to emulate. And Dandy
Bill
is a pimp.
Koblin: Do you socialize with other people in the ghetto?
Beck: Oh, yes, whenever I come out, all kinds of young black studs
converge
upon me. Some of them are ill. They want to pick my brain for the
treasures
they think are buried there, like how to pimp. I always dissuade them.
Koblin: How do you prevent other young people from going into "the
life"?
Beck: Well, first of all, they admire me almost universally now, in
black
America. When I appear before a group of young people, white or black,
they
almost immediately forget the fact that I am from another generation.
I approach them this way, at San Jose State, for example: I come out
and
say, 'I would like to disclaim that I ain't no lecturer. I'm just a
street
N****r who's come here to rap with you and who's learning to be a
writer.
None of the pompous stuff. Otherwise, they become disenchanted and
that's
why they reject just about all the men my age.
Koblin: You hate cops, I take it.
Beck: No, I pity them.
Koblin: Are they like Plato's soldiers, the lowest on the intellectual
rung?
Beck: Let's put it this way. I can dig a black man becoming a cop, but
what
fatal flaw does this white man have that he should want to become a
member
of the most hated and despised society not only by black people, but
also
most young people.
Koblin: You said once, "There are times when you must choose sides when
you
are going to be a black writer." Can you explain that?
Beck: Yes, ten or fifteen years ago, a black writer would talk out of
both
sides of his mouth, just as so-called black leaders. They could delude
and
fascinate, hypnotize large segments of black people from grass roots,
ordinary black street people all the way up.
Then came Martin Luther King. He started to make black people aware
of the
potential power they had. Then Malcolm came and defined the enemy.
Black
people became aware.
There was the most brilliant black writer, I do not care to mention
his
name, whom I idolized. Now, you talk about magnificent convolutions,
God
Almighty! But unfortunately, he always talked under fake fire. He was
always
full of fake fire.
In other words on the surface he would say things that seemed
absolutely
revolutionary, but when the probing mind examined it, it was p***y
right
down to the bone.
Koblin: Are you then in agreement with the black militants.
Beck: I'm in agreement with anybody that wants freedom, and who wants
some
sort of equality in this genocidal society.
Koblin: What do you think of the young black militants as personified
by
Huey Newton, say?
Beck: I think he's beautiful. His philosophy has just been transposed a
bit.
It is much more realistic, Bobby Seale just related to it this way. "We
have
not abandoned the gun, we have recognized the importance of the hammer
to
build. We must build educational facilities. We must build medical
facilities. And we must keep our guns within reach to defend our right
to
build." And I thought that was just beautiful.
Koblin: Isn't he also a hoodlum?
Beck: Well, yes, he has been conditioned that way. But... a hoodlum
poet!
Oh, my God. But then, he has never suffered the way I did. You see, all
of
the beauty was cauterized out of me. But he is beautiful to a fault. I
have
never been able to write poetry. I have envied him that. But here
again, he
didn't suffer long enough.
Koblin: He did do time in jail....
Beck: Not long enough, though. You see, I suffered repetitively. And he
was
comparatively young. But anyway, I'm glad he retained this poetic
thing. He
is so outta sight. The man is just miraculous.
Koblin: What happened the last time you saw you mother?
Beck: (acting out his words) There she was, the wasted face framed by
wild
white hair. I stood there; her eyes were closed. I realized she was
sleeping. I had a rose in my hand and a heart full of remorse and
guilt. I
sat quietly and watched her whisper. I said, "Mama" and she didn't
respond.
I was alarmed because I thought she had gone in to a coma. She had
diabetes,
you see.
I said, "Mama." There was a flicker on those incredibly long
eyelashes,
that had just set the hearts of so many black men aswoon when she was
beautiful and young and in her prime and tall and handsome and stately
and
utterly queenly. And then she opened those great sage voluminous eyes.
Then she looked up at me and I said "Darling (I lied), you look so
much
better than you did yesterday." Then her mouth tightened; that sensual,
magnificent mouth of hers- and the eyes- were mean because she knew
that I
was being insincere.
I said, "Mama, you really do!" And she said, "I'm old and ugly; I am
not a
whore. Don't you try to fool me or lie to me."
"I'm gonna tell you somethin'. Mama, the reason you're so sick is
because
you won't forgive me, Mama, you ain't gonna live if you don't forgive
me.
You got to forgive me if you gonna live. And that's what's wrong.
"That's why you got that tight look on your mouth. You can't forgive
me
for what I done to you. And I'm sorry, Mama. Don't you think I remember
how
you carried me through the streets of Chicago when I was six months
old. It
was ten below zero, and you were in the very fabulous years of golden
womanhood. You didn't desert me or neglect me. You were there, Mama,
all the
time. I'm aware of it now Mama; I really am.
Now, don't you play like that with me, Mama. Now open your eyes,
Mama...
(voice reaches screaming pitch, weeping) Mama, Mama, Mama! You're gonna
kill
me, Mama. Why did you kill me, Mama?"
Koblin: Why is there an actor portraying you in Pimp and Trick Baby?
Beck: I was considered for Blue Howard, but Blue was a portly man with
a
stocky body. And for Pimp, they wanted someone fresh, you know. I'm
well
preserved now, but let's face that.
Koblin: Would you have preferred to play the part yourself?
Beck: No, not that part. I'd like to play something completely divorced
from
that. But I hope that I have been able to convince you that I can act,
just
with that little bit about Mama. And there are people down there that
can
outact me.
Koblin: A black nationalist stated that it is the responsibility of the
black artist to destroy the glamorous image of the pimp, and his
victims
forever. Do you agree with that?
Beck: Yes, here again, it is counterrevolutionary for black people to
prey
on other black people, or upon poor white people. I recognize the
necessity
for crime in black America. I understand why, for survival, black
people
must steal. But I don't condone crime. I feel that what it takes to be
a
successful criminal could be used in a more constructive way.
Like if the pimp has enough circuitry going in his brain to control
nine
women, surely, he's got no business being a pimp. So if you're black,
and
you must be a criminal, don't steal my stuff. Go over there. Steal from
affluent white people.
Koblin: The black pimp, as you were, has made his fortune through the
total
degradation of the black woman in this society. Is that true?
Beck: That's true. And the tragedy there is, that the black woman is
the
bedrock of the black family unit. This is what is under direct assault.
It
occurred under the structured racism of America. When a black man turns
out
a black woman, he is denigrating the bedrock of family life in his
community. Again, this is counterrevolutionary. Pimps are becoming an
anachronism.
Koblin: You have then assisted in the degradation of your own race.
Beck: Yes, before I got insight.
Koblin: Do black men consciously or unconsciously hate white women now?
Beck: They have mixed feelings. After all, possession of the white
woman
must evoke images of lynchings, the victims with their balls hacked
off,
their throats cut, swinging from Georgia peach trees.
On the other hand, the black man as well as the white, has been
conditioned to believe that the white woman is superior to all other
women.
The alabaster super[censoredword] has always held dominion in the aesthetic caste
system as perpetuated by our mass media. Some white women marry black
men,
but these unions have a high mortality rate.
Koblin: Marilyn Monroe was a super[censoredword] in our society, and we are aware
of
her tragedy. Is she on the same psychological strata in our society as
the
black male supercock?
Beck: Yes.
Koblin: Do white women the suffer the same oppression as black men?
Beck: Yes, she is overshadowed by the white man also. The white man
still
remains at the apex of the pyramid to which he arrived at his base
nature,
his brutal, psychotic ego. That's why they hate him now. They want to
cut
his throat.
Koblin: Who are "they?"
Beck: All of the people beneath him, in varying degrees.
Koblin: What do you think of the feminist revolution that is going on
now?
... predominantly white.
Beck: You mean the lib thing? I think it is a minimal irritant. But it
is
good, it is a distraction to the giant. While his toes are being
stepped on,
you can rape him with an iron pipe.
Koblin: What is it that a woman wants in a man?
Beck: All women want to possess a man and not share him. It is a
primeval
biological need. If this need is not satisfied, she builds a desire to
avenge herself.
The Washington Post
Style
Sweet Talk, Hustle and Muscle
By Hollie I. West
Iceberg Slim was in Washington, DC recently. Here are excerpts from a
conversation with this reporter:
Q: What was your main hustle when you were at your peak?
A: Ressin' and dressin'. I just rested and dressed. And petted my dog
and
ate chocolates and slept on satin sheets. And went to the penitentiary
periodically, I might add. It was interesting- to survive it and still
be
able to make sense. After all, I talked to a fellow who was the
brightest
among us. I can't call his name. And the last time I saw him about a
year
and a half ago, I didn't know what he was talking about. He was almost
gibberish. His brain was shot- the circuitry was gone. He was so fast,
man,
in his prime. He just vibrated. He'd had a heart attack. That was when
I
realized I hadn't missed anything in squaring up . And when I came back
to
Chicago a year and a half ago for the first time in 11 years I wondered
what
had fascinated me, man. This shows you what happened to me in
California ,
right- something aside from the transition from that to writing
happened. It
had to, man, if I'm viewing Chicago as a place of great ugliness when I
used
to even love the clouds of dirt that fell.
Q: In the book Pimp you wrote that you were "almost certain that the
principles of good pimping apply to all man-and-woman relationships."
Will
you expand on that?
A: What I was saying was that the pimp overtly and almost with
inhibition,
denigrates and despoils the sexual object. His mauling of the sexual
object
is perhaps a more severe version of what happens in conventional
relationships. For instance, in so-called "square" sexual bouts, the
woman
winds up, of course, flat on her back in a submissive position. If a
man is
aware of what sexual button to push to enhance a woman's gratification,
he
will bite her with the proper degree of ferocity. If he inflicted that
kind
of punishment on her when she was not in a state of rapture, she would
resent it... The kiss-kick ritual is at the very root of the pimp's
sexuality. My theory is that some quantum of pimp in every man would
perhaps
enhance his approach to women, because I think it's a truism that women
gravitate to a man who can at least flash transient evidence of
heelism. I
think that the angelic. completely pure paragon, is not too
interesting.
Women are prone to masochism , anyway. I think if you are able to
manufacture a bit of "heelism" in your nature and give them a sense of
insecurity as to whether some voluptuous rival might come along and
steal
you, then you are a treasured jewel. I think women are it. It's the
concept
of the pimp who has one whore, who'll create a competitive situation to
gadfly the one whore he's got, will manufacture and create the illusion
that
he has another whore who's sending him money orders from some
whorehouse
upstate. And he will ecstatically unfurl the money order, which,
ironically,
is the money that the one whore has made.
Q: Of all the pimps, you have been the only one who has written
extensively
about your experiences. What prompted you to write?
A: Nothing prompted me. First of all, I am of superior intelligence. We
start with that premise. If we start with the subsidiary premise that I
have
a family, and because I am my age and they are infants, I have to make
a
necessary imprint. If you don't make an imprint you aren't going to be
able
to get large sums of money. That's absolutely if you're a N****r.
You've got
to be spectacular and transcendental- otherwise you ain't gonna get a
whole
lot of bread.
If I were alone, If I didn't have three beautiful daughters, I could
just
rest on my laurels and just sit at home and live off $12,000 or $15,000
a
year, and that would be the end of it. But I know that I can't do that.
I
know that I've got to find some way to make the kind of imprint that
will
get me very quickly large sums of money so that I could put the proper
cushioning under my children. So that if I should pass away suddenly,
then I
have made arrangements for my three daughters and my son. But most of
all I
should like to prove to the world, to dispel the myth that street
N****rs
are devoid of intellect. You know that's a myth. They think we are
devoid of
wit. I want to prove to older black men, just because your past age 50,
man,
don't give up.
Q: How did you learn to write?
A: Can you imagine when you're 55 how desperately- since you've been
removed
from that ferocious competition that is pimping- you would bring the
same
drives to this other world. I've always been a creature of pressure. My
wife
is 20 years younger than I. She represents another gadfly. It's no one
particular thing but rather a number of things- a man married to a
woman 20
years younger, infant children, displaced pimp, 55. I've got to try.
Q: As a rule, pimps find it practical to be distant in their relations
with
women. In fact, you trade name derives from your icy nature. Have you
been
able to warm up to your wife and children?
A: Yes, but with my wife there's a difference. She's been with me for
more
than 11 years. Do you understand how horrible it would be for Iceberg
Slim
to be with a woman who wasn't with him from the beginning- when Iceberg
Slim
was fresh out of prison. This woman was with me when I ain't had two
red
quarters to put together.
Now my ambition is to be as good as a father as I was a pimp. But at
first I
couldn't express love for my daughters because they were female. I can
do it
now. But you know what pulled my coat . You know how balmy the weather
is in
L.A. , right. There're scores of fathers- black and white- with the
supermarket syndrome. They ride their kids in carts. And you see
fathers in
California doing the shopping and all. When I first saw it, man- these
fathers kissing their children, fondling them- I just looked and said
to
myself, 'That N****r is a shonuff father.' I know I wasn't so sick that
I
couldn't realize that eh knew what to do, or that he wasn't flawed.
So that's what woke me up to the fact that something was wrong with me.
I
would stand off from all my children and I had a morbid fear of being
kissed
by them. When you're a pimp, you're only as sweet as the money. They
were
like little whores and I say, 'Now get out of here.' They would giggle
and
laugh at me. That's bad medicine for a kid, you understand what I mean.
The
rationale was 'they like that,' I'd tell the old lady. She'd just look
at
me. She'd say, 'They ain't gonna understand their daddy.'
Now I had a habit- just to show you how erudite my old lady is- of
picking
up my kids with their back toward me. She said, 'Daddy, dear, they
can't
feel secure in that position. Don't hold them with their backs to you.
The
supporting thing isn't there.' I would say to myself, 'Of course she's
right. There ain't no support- no security there.' Ain't that a b**ch-
I
didn't know that, slick as I try to be.
Q: Why did you get out of pimping?
A: I got out of it because I was old. I did not want to be teased,
tormented
and brutalized by young whore. And there were too many young dudes,
dressing
well, looking pretty and talking good- to these young whores.
Q: What was your next step?
A: Ringing doorbells and selling insecticide.
Q: You were quoted in the book Black Players as saying you were
"ecstatic"
about leaving the life .
A: Oooooow, God ! I leave the door open in hotel rooms. I take the
chain and
put it so the door can't lock and I might take a nap. I don't have to
worry
because I ain't stupid enough like old pimps to have that gangster
grass or
any other contraband with me as I travel. I ain't worried about no
rollers
[police detectives]. I ain't gonna do nothing wrong. Ain't no way they
can
indict me for anything. I don't even entertain women. I don't have no
sexual
contact with women.
Q: Has pimping changed since you quit?
A: Pimping has to change, man, because you see, women changed. With the
advent of television young girls could see the opulence of the inside
of
star's homes. The girl would see authentic opulence. Then when the pimp
would take them to these bares [empty apartments]. A pimp would buy
yard
goods. He'd have his bottom woman go down and get satin by the bolt. He
would take sometimes tacks and cover a wall with satin, so there was
only a
kind of sleazy opulence. So when the pimp would take these young girls,
who
had already seen true opulence via the boob tube, it didn't have the
true
impact he wanted. She was not aswoon at this synthetic splendor.
And there was a proliferation of luxury cars with the end of the war
(World
War II). Shoeshiners had Cadillacs. They might've been selling a little
gangster on the side, but they still had Cadillacs. Where formerly only
pimps and high powered gamblers and numbers bankers had these luxury
cars,
there was just a proliferation of them. No young girl is titillated
because
she sees a new Eldorado. She isn't stunned or hypnotized as she once
was
when some dude would pull up in one of them long Caddies.
These are some of the things that happened. Maybe this is why large
numbers
of pimps started using the more potent means of persuasion and
treatment and
recruitment, like getting the whores hooked on hard stuff, because it
it a
sure shot. It was the muting of the impact of what was formerly potent.
So the young pimp's reached the point where he now uses heroin as his
principle weapon as he's evolved into this negative position.
Q: Isn't a woman useless if she's on drugs.
A: If she's 17, 18, or 19, and if she's supplied with drugs that are
relatively good- in other words you don't have two and three percent
stuff-
she ain't going to get sick. You know what's bad about drug addiction.
Man,
it ain't the drugs that you shoot- it's if you are a hustler and if you
have
to hustle or steal or do whatever that you do when you're sick. And you
go
for X number of hours and be under stress and tension of trying to tilt
that
or pick a pocket, and you're sicker than a __________. Then you
multiply
these various times when you are sick- this is what pulls you down.
That's what's wrong about drugs, but I never say this, of course. I
don't
want to give anybody the impression that it's therapeutic. I never
looked
like I had a habit. You couldn't tell I had a habit unless you were a
roller
[detective] and examined me. Then you could tell because it's like
embalming
fluid. That's the proper parallel. You just have to keep lots of it in
the
corpse. That's what you are.
Q: Why do you think there are so few white pimps?
A: Because there's so many other areas of chicanery, which are much
more
lucrative, that are open to white fellows. White men who have those
instincts that would lead them to pimping prey on rich widows and
there're
literally just hundreds of thousands of them who have enough money that
makes them a worthwhile target. So the pernicious white man, instead of
pimping, shoots for one mark, one victim and he takes that broad and
spends
it on flashy young broads and makes the Vegas scene. If he's really a
top-notcher, he makes the French Riviera . They are called ' players '.
Most
white guys became players because they've got the prey. They don't
really
have to come down to street level to get their bread. White widows with
$80,000 or $90,000 are not uncommon. They don't even cause a social
ripple.
You know- some white woman with $90,000- she ain't got no money
according to
this country's standards. If a black widow or a black woman has
$90,000,
man, my God - she's rich. You know these food places that are really
busy
like barbecue joints where they give you a ticket. Well, that's what
she'd
have to do. She'd have to interview N****rs because they'd be playing
for
that 90 grand. Here again the same old opportunity and plethora of
opportunity. Who wants to pimp? Why would a personable, attractive
young
white guy have to get down on the street level? It ain't worth it if
you're
white. All right, so you're getting a grand a week from all three
girls-
that's $3,000 a week. Then you got your nut- the police. All of the
convoluted thinking that it takes just to keep a stable together and
move
from one posh watering and feeding spot to another and rip 'em off.
Large numbers of white pimps just have not had to do that raunchy kind
of
hustling that the black pimp must do. You know, there're droves of
young
N****rs who want to pimp just to get an Eldorado, and that doesn't
require a
hell of a lot as you know. I mean if you can somehow get together
$2,000 or
$3,000 you can put a ride on the street- an Eldorado. But white guys
shoot
for larger goals, and most white hustlers are better educated than the
average street-aspired black hustler They just don't have to stoop.
Q: You said in the preface to your autobiography that you aim was to
save
youngsters from the same kind of life you lived. Have you?
A: No. They rationalize. They think they'd be slicker than I. It's
almost
impossible to dissuade young dudes who're already street poisoned
because
almost without exception they have no recourse but to think they're
slicker
than Iceberg. They think I'm some sort of anachronism.
The Guardian
Published in London and Manchester
Author: CT
Robert Beck
Searing prose of the underworld Iceberg
Robert Beck, who has died aged 73, was an anti-hero in the true sense
of
the word. Unconventional yet compelling, he gave a tragic majesty to
the
world of the ultimate outsider - the pimp. Born in Chicago, he adopted
the
street name Iceberg Slim at the age of 19 and became one of those
high-earning folk heroes, an urban pimp. After 26 years in the "fast
track"
he'd had enough... he left behind his life as a pimp and a petty
criminal
and carved out a career as one of America's best-selling black authors.
His
first book, Pimp: The Story of My Life (1969) has sold over two million
copies and is still a solid seller.
Pimp paved the way for the spate of "streetwise" fiction that would
follow, and from Yardie to Donald Goines they all owe a debt to Iceberg
Slim. His books are more than just the roadmaps that all the young
contenders try to follow, they have the all-important stamp of
authenticity;
drawing their audience to them like a magnet, but alienating writers
and
other cultural critics with one fell swoop.
With searing honesty, street cool and crusading passion, Pimp
delineates
all the factors that pushed, pulled and propelled its author into the
dog-eat-dog underworld of the pimp game. It's remarkable feat handled
with
vitality and detachment, in short the very qualities that took him to
the
top of his nefarious trade. If the subject matter had been different he
might have been hailed as a major new black writing talent. Like all
his
books, Pimp documents the highs and lows of the hustling world with
unmerciful candour. It's a rollercoaster ride whose destination is
oblivion,
emotional isolation and lonely self-awareness. This gnawing truth is
overlooked by those who dismiss him.
As a young man he was a "sweet boy" with "legitimate charm," but he
found
these qualities useless if he was to make the grade as a hustler. To
succeed
in the pimp world you had to have "implacability" and "control" over
your
emotions. He kept a "steel lid" on himself, and when he became a
full-time
pimp, he chillingly admitted, he didn't smile for decades. This kind of
aloofness and self-control paid dividends.
It drew the right type of women and made them easier to handle. His
ice
cool front gave him the distance necessary for his Machiavellian
manipulations; it also made it easier for him to project emotional
force
with complete intensity. In the long run there was a price to pay.
His schooling as a hustler totally changed his life, leaving him
permanently branded as an outsider. He tried normality and the
"straight
life" but never quite managed to settle into it unobtrusively. He was
always
slightly out-of-synch. As a father he couldn't smile or play normally
with
his kids, and his past tainted more than just his private life- it also
added to his cultural isolation. Inside the black community his
reputation
was mixed. To the kids on the street he was a "folk hero." To the
spokesmen
he was an embarrassment, a facet of urban life they'd hoped would
disappear.
Each successive book added to his status as one of the best-selling
black
authors in the US. After the success of The Godfather, Universal
Pictures
bought up the film rights to Pimp but the project was considered "too
hot"
and put on hold. His novel, Trick Baby: The Story of a White Negro was
filmed in 1974 and drew good reviews. Despite his talent he was left
floating around the margin. For anyone else the situation would look
like
doom and gloom. Yet he managed to turn it on its head and transcend it.
Each successive book seemed bleaker and more brutal than the last,
almost
as if it reflected his heroic isolation. On the one hand he was a
"local
hero" and "ghetto voice". On the other he shunned street contact, and
was
ignored by the media.
Sometime he welcomed his outsider status, and embraced it as an
inevitable
part of his nature. He chuckled wryly as he declared "I am a loner to
the
extent that I put my own shadow outside the door and lock it out."
Towards
the end he put it "to be a loner is perfect. To be gregarious and on
the
edge, is horrible. But when you're a loner there's a kind of perverse
joy,
inner joy."
Information is taken from
http://www.popsubculture.com/pop/bio_project/sub/iceberg_slim.4.html
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LadyDay
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Posted: Sunday April 3rd, 2005 13:02 |
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that was not brief
i love this book the style of writing and rawness of teh story telling. had me in shock and awe
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Posted: Sunday April 3rd, 2005 17:13 |
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| I know lady day... I tacked on that interview with Iceberg Slim... but boy... what a life story... sometimes tragic but sometimes comical... I think the most depressing part for me was when his mother walked out on the husband, to run off with next man. There was this paragraph where both Iceberg slim and his adopted father were crying their eyes out... so sad when I read later in the book that he had died, the poor man was left utterly broken hearted.
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Vezz.
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Posted: Tuesday April 5th, 2005 12:41 |
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I read this book years ago.
It gave an amazing insight into that life.
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Posted: Monday April 11th, 2005 02:26 |
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i read ice bergs slims book the year after it came out in 1970 i was then 16 .it was tragic then as it is now .he was a successful pimp and 2 say the least a successful misogynist another book that slim was affiliated with is mama black widow a glimpse into hell about a young black homosexual in the 30s and 40s in chi-town . if any young black readers would like 2 read a couple of books of hope and life .1 manchild in the promised land .author claude brown 2. malcom x. on african -american history
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