Cosby Brings Laughter, Tears To Audience

Saluted by waves of applause, consoled by a few tears, warmed by the spotlight, Bill Cosby returned to the concert stage Saturday night for the first time since his son was shot to death two weeks ago.

“He was a man, but I’m a father and he was my son,” Cosby told a sold-out crowd at the Kravis Center in West Palm Beach. “We are living it. We are a wonderful family, and we are living it.”

Anguish sometimes bowed his shoulders, but wry smiles often illuminated his face. And the humor he managed to generate brightened a theater filled with fans, now also confidantes.

“Pardon me if I sound arrogant, but somebody has to give people a release,” he told the audience. “I have to have a release, because this is what I do for a living. I don’t sing.”

Then, he paused.

“I do sell pudding.”

The audience laughed. And that made Cosby smile.

Long ago engaged to appear in two shows Saturday, Cosby, 59, honored his contract despite the Jan. 16 death of his son, Ennis. The 27-year-old man was slain by an unknown assailant while changing a flat tire in Los Angeles.

“This boy was a man, and he was a boy because he was my son - our son - and he was only 27. To a mother, no man alive can match a son.”

Soon after the son’s murder came news that Cosby might be the father of an illegitimate daughter, a 22-year-old woman now charged with trying to extort $40 million from him. He admitted having a brief affair, but denied paternity. His wife said they long ago resolved the problems between them.

Saturday night, in a concert hall jammed with 2,200 fans for each show, the house lights dimmed right on schedule. Unannounced, Cosby emerged, stage left.

The audience rose and applauded and already a few people started crying.

Cosby stepped to center stage. He wore a sweatshirt that said, in rainbow colors, “Hello Friends.”

He waited a few seconds and then he quieted the crowd. “Oh,” he said waving his right hand dismissively, “sit down.” Then, as the audience settled in, Cosby addressed the issue head-on.

“This is not difficult for me,” he said, “because a part of my life has been with you all and you have been a part of me.”

Then, almost without notice, he segued into his routine, that distinctive blend of gentle, observational humor that has served him and his audience so well for 35 years:

On the first ring he gave his wife: “My wife has a diamond - you can see the specks of coal. With the naked eye.”

On “the good old days”: “I was born in 1937 and there was no such thing as child abuse. Anybody could come up and hit you. And after they hit you, they told your parents and you got another hit.”

On anniversaries: “Women give you nothing. It is because, ‘I am still with you. I am still here. That’s enough.’ What’s my point? I don’t know. I just know where I live.”

The crowd loved it. Loud laughs rocked the concert hall and Cosby seemed energized, accelerating his speech and gesturing with his arms and mugging for the audience.

They say that stand-up comedy is one of the most revealing of arts. Cosby revealed something of himself Saturday night.

He is a trouper, always has been. He didn’t have to prove that again, but he did.

“That does it,” he said at the end of the show. “This is the first of the beginning, and I want to thank all of you on behalf of the Cosby family.

“Your spirit and your trust and your love have been felt. Let’s hope that we never have to meet again under these circumstances.

“Good night.”

And with that, he walked off the stage to a standing ovation.

On Saturday night, in a West Palm Beach concert hall, Bill Cosby left ‘em laughing. And he left ‘em crying.