How a speech by Richard Pryor changed my life

PUBLISHED: February 7, 2026 | www.baltimoresun.com

Every career begins with a defining moment, an instant when preparation meets courage and the future quietly changes course.

For me, that moment came in 1983. I was 21 years old, working at the United States Department of Agriculture in Washington, D.C., when I was asked to select a keynote speaker for a gathering of more than 1,500 employees. Rather than choose the safe or expected option, I took a risk and invited Richard Pryor, not the comedian the public knew, but the thinker and truth-teller behind the legend.

Reaching Pryor was not easy. Determined, I placed more than 61 calls before finally reaching the right contact with his attorney, Terry Giles. That single call proved decisive. Giles became the facilitator who made Pryor’s appearance in Washington possible.

It was Pryor’s first straight speech. No comedy. No performance. Just the truth. One decision, one moment, altered the trajectory of my life.

When Pryor arrived at Dulles Airport, he was visibly surprised to discover that I was Black. He paused, studied me and smiled. What followed was not doubt, but affirmation. He told me that the sky was the limit and that I must never allow anyone or anything to place me in a Black box. That advice became a creed I have lived by ever since.

What began as a professional exchange with Terry Giles became a lifelong mentorship. Since that time, Giles has remained my trusted financial mentor, introducing and structuring investment opportunities that generated wealth then and continue to do so today. His guidance was not transactional, but strategic — rooted in discipline, stewardship and long-term vision.

The impact of Pryor’s Washington presence was immediate. The very next Monday, following President Ronald Reagan’s Black History Month reception at the White House, I received a call from Clarence Thomas, then chairman of the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission. He had heard the Pryor story and understood both its substance and its significance. He hired me on the spot.

Four years later, I was recruited away from Justice Thomas by Robert J. Brown, a seasoned government and international affairs executive who had worked for Presidents John F. Kennedy and Richard Nixon, as well as Robert F. Kennedy. Brown had quietly followed my career since Pryor’s speech and my immediate hiring by Thomas. He understood discretion, judgment and power exercised without spectacle.

Working with Brown in the private sector led to enduring relationships with Coretta Scott King, Maya Angelou, Oprah Winfrey, Stedman Graham and Nelson and Winnie Mandela. These were not ceremonial encounters but substantive relationships grounded in trust, responsibility and shared moral purpose.

For two years, I served as executive director of Oprah Winfrey’s charitable giving, overseeing philanthropic initiatives rooted in accountability and measurable impact. During that same period, Stedman Graham and I were business partners across several ventures.

Meanwhile, history continued unfolding quietly. In his 1983 Washington remarks, Pryor publicly urged Congress to establish a federal holiday honoring Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. But he did not stop at the podium. Behind the scenes, he pressed the issue directly with Reagan and later in private meetings with Sen. Strom Thurmond, then chairman of the Senate Judiciary Committee. Through persistence and unexpected diplomacy, Pryor worked to move hearts and minds at the highest levels of government.

Sometimes history is not made with a microphone. Sometimes it is made in rooms no one talks about.

That truth became unmistakably clear again in 1991 during Clarence Thomas’s confirmation battle for the United States Supreme Court. At the height of controversy, when public opinion was polarized and political courage scarce, Maya Angelou made a decision that altered the course of history.

On Aug. 25, 1991, Angelou published an essay in The New York Times titled “I Dare to Hope,” endorsing Clarence Thomas. It was not a political gesture but a moral one. She urged the nation to look beyond caricature and consider the fullness of Thomas’ life, intellect and character. Her words pierced the noise, steadied wavering senators and helped reframe a national debate. Moral authority, exercised with courage, still mattered.

Years later, Norman Lear, long fascinated by the Pryor story and my role as its catalyst, reached out after reading a 1994 commentary I wrote in The Wall Street Journal. He immediately recognized my voice and my gift for writing and congratulated me on Pryor’s 1983 Washington speech, noting it marked a turning point in Pryor’s life.

That connection led me to write for Lear, including work on “704 Hauser.” The character Goodie was created in my likeness as an educated, articulate Black conservative who refused caricature. At a time when Black conservatism was either ignored or mocked, the show gave it legitimacy and complexity, proving that Black political thought was not monolithic.

Looking back, I understand what Richard Pryor saw that day at Dulles Airport. He saw possibility, unconfined, unapologetic and unwilling to be boxed in.

Too often, the true trailblazers who advance history with moral clarity and quiet diplomacy are absent from history books and documentaries. Yet, in time, the wind of truth finds its way, giving credit long after they are gone.

One speech changed everything. One decision opened worlds. And one truth endures: Never allow anyone or any system to define the limits of your future.

Armstrong Williams (www.armstrongwilliams.com; @arightside) is a political analyst, syndicated columnist and owner of the broadcasting company, Howard Stirk Holdings. He is also part owner of The Baltimore Sun.

©️ 2026 Baltimore Sun