Los Angeles Free Press

 

Volume 9 No. 8 (issue 397)

February 25 - March 2, 1972

 

 

 

  

PORTRAIT OF A PIMP

Helen Koblin

 

 

 

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  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.

 

 

 

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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 cunt and money? Now here the pimp, what has he got? All kinds of beautiful girls, who bring him cunt 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 supercunt. (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 nigger 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 pussy 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 supercunt 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 supercunt 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.