I Knew Little Richard as Mr. Penniman

For such a flamboyant man, he wasn’t much of a schmoozer backstage. Not a lot of chatter in the wings between him and the other acts on a multiband bill—he’d been doing this forever, and like a ballplayer who knows to save his energy for the game, Richard Penniman was aware that Little Richard was who the customers had come to see, and Little Richard really only existed when strangers’ eyes were on him.

But, man, when that spotlight hit him. Some people were born for the glare of the lights and the stares of the crowd, and he was such a fellow. Over the weekend the obituaries—Penniman died Saturday at 87—detailed his colorful and often tumultuous life. He was well aware that white singers, in his era and later, took his hits and successfully remade them. But he was also aware—and proud—that as famous and talented as those singers were, his versions were enduringly better.

Elvis Presley’s cover of “Tutti Frutti”? The Beatles’ version of “Long Tall Sally”? The Everly Brothers’ rendition of “Rip It Up”? All terrific. But listen to each back-to-back with the Little Richard originals, and it’s no contest. And if you really want to give yourself a treat—especially if you’re feeling down during these dismal days—take a listen to Little Richard’s title track for the 1956 Jayne Mansfield movie “The Girl Can’t Help It.” Just try to sit still. Just try not to smile.

His piano keyboard was an extension of his body, as if his fingers and the keys were a single instrument. That pencil mustache, particularly in the early years, could have made him resemble a shady villain in a noir movie—except how many villains spontaneously erupt with joyous cries of “Wooooooooo”? His eyes had a vocabulary of their own.

He was working in a kitchen in Macon, Ga., in the 1950s, cleaning pots and pans by hand and hating every minute. This wasn’t what he wanted for his life. One day, at work, an odd combination of words came into his head: “Awop-bop-a-loo-bop, awop-bam-boom!”

It would start his path to becoming a millionaire and a world traveler. It would be his passport to the most storied cities on Earth.

Often, onstage in those cities, he would say to his adoring audiences: “I was washing dishes at the Greyhound bus station when I wrote this song. Thank goodness for ‘Tutti Frutti.’ It took me out of the kitchen.”

It sure did, Mr. Penniman. Good golly, Miss Molly.

Mr. Greene’s books include “When We Get to Surf City: A Journey Through America in Pursuit of Rock and Roll, Friendship and Dreams.”