From his sprawling Beverly Hills mansion, Lionel Richie watched intently as copies of his new memoir, “Truly,” glided along a conveyor belt at a printing plant. It was a sight that captivated the music legend.
He watched, hand to his mouth, shaking his head slowly, as if witnessing the birth of something precious.
His surroundings were a testament to his illustrious career: two sitting rooms, each with a grand piano, one adorned with floor-to-ceiling awards, the other featuring a leather-bound guest book filled with signatures from icons like Pharrell Williams, Sidney Poitier, Jackie Chan, and Gregory Peck.
At 76, Richie, fresh off a European tour and preparing for a South American leg, has a career spanning five decades. He’s sold over 100 million albums, offered wisdom on “American Idol,” and commanded stages before vast, adoring crowds that stretch like oceans.
Despite all his achievements, confronting his own life story in print left Richie utterly speechless.
“This isn’t just a book about the people I’ve met,” he explained, walking into another opulent room in his bright orange sneakers. “It’s about facing my deepest fears and finding the strength to push forward.”
“Twice as Tough”: A Legacy of Resilience
Meeting Richie in person is just like seeing him on screen or stage: vibrant, charismatic, and full of the wisdom and anecdotes that come with age. When he learned of my own recent “empty nest” experience, he thoughtfully presented me with a tissue, folded into a perfect rose.
“Let me help you, darling,” Richie offered gently, touching the three rings on his neck chain, each representing one of his children. “From now on, you’ll know if they truly understood it.”
This “it” refers to the profound lessons Richie cherishes: the value of family and connection, the balance of providing roots and wings, and the immense undertaking of raising children. He embodies genuine emotion without ever dipping into sentimentality.
Weighing in at 463 pages, “Truly” is a substantial read, packed with vivid childhood recollections, fascinating music industry tales, and a treasure trove of 25 photographs.
The book traces Richie’s journey from his early days in Tuskegee, Alabama, where he once envisioned becoming an Episcopal priest, through his time as a saxophonist and vocalist for The Commodores—even sleeping under a table during their first summer in Harlem. It then follows his explosive solo career, propelled by hits like “Hello” and “Stuck On You,” along with the eponymous “Truly,” culminating in his present role as a philosophical troubadour admired for his enduring presence.
His nearly decade-long retreat from the public eye, though brief in the book’s page count, forms its most raw and impactful chapters. It was during this time that he confronted deep-seated insecurities that had followed him from Tuskegee to Hollywood.
He candidly addresses his anxieties: the fear of never having another hit after The Commodores, the dread of missing out, the worry of disappointing his family, and the absence of a fallback plan. He also opens up about his battles with stage fright, ADHD, and depression.
“Truly” is far from a somber read; instead, it’s remarkably honest, particularly in Richie’s refreshing candor regarding race.
Richie describes his childhood Tuskegee as a sanctuary for “the best doctors, lawyers, and surgeons, who just happened to be Black.”
He recounts a 1986 interview with Barbara Walters, initially to be titled “Lionel Richie, Rags to Richie,” until Walters saw the elegant home near Tuskegee College, inherited from Booker T. Washington’s heirs. (Richie’s grandparents also knew George Washington Carver.)
“We all understood that if you were Black, you had to be twice as good as the standard,” he writes. “You had to withstand doubt and overcome obstacles that were twice as tough.”
He recounts being 8 years old when his father endured a harsh public reprimand after Richie drank from a “Whites Only” water fountain in Montgomery, Alabama—a moment where his usually unyielding father visibly recoiled from the anger of strangers.
The tragedy continued with the 1963 church bombing that claimed the life of his 14-year-old crush, Cynthia Diane Wesley, forever cementing her place as one of the “Birmingham Four.”
“I couldn’t make any sense of it,” he reflects. “Not then. Not now.”
Throughout our conversation, Richie frequently returned to the theme of fortitude, quoting his father: “Are you standing up? Or are you hiding behind the couch? What’s the similarity between a hero and a coward? They were both scared to death. One stepped forward, and one stepped back.”
“The Little Boy with Glasses”: From Insecurity to Stardom
Growing up, Richie was surrounded by intellectual pursuits; his mother taught English, and his grandmother was a classical pianist. “He grew up in a community that was oriented toward books and intellectual life and people who put words on the page,” noted Elizabeth Mitchell, his editor at HarperOne.
Despite his background, he approached writing a memoir with hesitation. Initially, he even contemplated a two-volume set, much like Cher, but his publisher and co-writer, Mim Eichler Rivas, respectfully steered him toward a single book.
(As Cher herself once quipped in an interview, referring to her own experience, “My publishers didn’t like the idea either, but then they realized it couldn’t be one book. You wouldn’t be able to lift it.”)
Their collaboration began with a few hours each afternoon, but soon shifted to Richie’s preferred, late-night schedule, often starting around 1 AM and continuing until dawn.
“I have to be there when God is available,” Richie stated, emphasizing the sanctity of those quiet hours. “No lawyers, no managers, no agents, no press. Nothing.”
During these sessions, Richie shared his stories, while Rivas diligently posed questions and recorded his every word.
Minor disagreements arose, such as when Rivas used a word like “flabbergasted.” Richie would gently correct her, saying, “Mim. I’m Black.” It simply wasn’t a word he’d naturally employ.
Humorously, Richie admitted the most challenging aspect was “confessing to myself and to the world” that he was never a star athlete, a top student, or particularly popular in his youth.
Ronald LaPread, who grew up with Richie and played bass for The Commodores, recalled him as “the little boy with glasses. He was kind of skinny. Very insignificant.”
The turning point, Richie remembered, occurred during a talent show at Tuskegee College (now a university).
“The greatest line I ever heard, coming out of a girl’s mouth: ‘Sing it, baby!'” Richie recounted. “That was the moment I thought, ‘Okay, I might be getting cool.’ I had never felt cool before in my life.”
LaPread added, “Not only did we have a decent frontman, but he was also an incredible songwriter. It all just turned into sweet sugar.”
Though tempted to gloss over difficult experiences, Richie understood that to truly connect with readers, he had to confront the uncomfortable truths of his past.
He has a fitting proverb for this: “If you run from the lion, the lion will chase you. If you attack the lion, the lion will run away.”
“God Has Your Next Move”: Finding Peace After the Storm
In “Truly,” one can feel Richie’s unease—and his commitment to fairness—as he recounts the end of two marriages and his departure from The Commodores. (LaPread, reflecting on that time, commented, “I’m sure it wasn’t easy for him, and it wasn’t easy for us either. All we knew was each other.”)
Richie’s narrative regains its buoyancy when he describes “We Are the World,” the anthem he co-wrote with Michael Jackson, recorded during an epic, all-night session with a constellation of stars in 1985.
“‘We Are the World’ changed my life,” Richie states in the book. “It prompted me to ask, If I’m in my championship season, what positive impact can I make with it?”
The record, as detailed in the memoir, sold an astonishing 800,000 copies in just three days, ultimately raising $80 million for famine relief efforts in Africa.
In the wake of this success, Richie felt like he was rocketing into the stratosphere. His inner circle—agents, managers, family, and friends—remained safely tethered.
“This rocket was flying so fast, you didn’t even realize three years had passed,” Richie recalled. “And you feel invincible.”
He continued, describing the intoxicating effect of fame: “If you walked into a room and swept everything off the table, everyone would say, ‘Oh great, Lionel, we’ll clean that up.’ Were you into girls? All the girls. Into drugs? All the drugs. Ego? All the ego.”
Then, a series of crises hit: his father passed away, his first marriage publicly and painfully dissolved, and his voice, his instrument, failed him.
“I didn’t know you could disintegrate with the rocket,” he admitted.
Richie experienced what he termed a “nervous breakdown.” In 1991, he retreated to Jamaica for five days, sitting on a beach chair, drinking Cristal as the tide rose around him. He vividly describes how, each night, “the hotel staff would come out, pick me up in the chair, and retrieve my empty champagne bottle, now full of saltwater, to bring me back up to dry land — waking me before I drowned.”
He eventually returned to Tuskegee, where his 97-year-old grandmother offered him a profound, no-nonsense piece of advice: “Why don’t you get a good night’s sleep? God has your next move.”
For any reader, even those who haven’t achieved multiplatinum status, met Nelson Mandela, or performed for billions at the Olympics, these deeply personal passages resonate universally.
For Richie, that period of withdrawal proved to be his salvation.
“I will tell you that because it’s very important to know,” he stated, leaning back in a white chair overlooking his meticulously maintained patio garden, a space he tends himself. (He even gardens for his daughter Nicole, much to the delight of her neighbors who often spot him pruning and humming in her yard.)
He sought therapy, remarried, and underwent a challenging voice restoration surgery, essentially relearning to sing.
Eventually, he stepped back into the spotlight, where he has remained, a testament to his enduring talent, alongside fellow legends like Bruce Springsteen, Diana Ross, Billy Joel, and Cher.
Cher herself offered some sage advice on the eve of his book’s publication.
“You have to kind of steel yourself. You have to put a rod in your backbone,” she advised. “And listen to people’s questions before you dive in to answer, to let them digest. Take your time.”
“After all,” Cher concluded, “It’s your life.”
Lionel Richie is, indeed, ready.
“Every time you feel fear, step forward,” he reiterated. “That’s what I keep in my mind now. Is today confusing? Yes. Tomorrow may not be. Why? Because I faced today.”