He was of the newer, post-Cosby generation of black comics, trash-talking, dark and gritty in his on-stage humor, without apology, most famously so on the Original Kings of Comedy tour.

Yet on television over the years of "The Bernie Mac Show" he showed a different kind of grit playing the tough-love surrogate dad to his sister's three children while she off in drug rehab.

It was a comedy, and good comedy. His was one of the few black sitcoms on a Big Four network to make it after Bill Cosby's great streak in the '80s, first airing in 2001 and lasting five seasons.

But throughout Mac spoke directly into the camera about life and responsibility, and in many ways it was the real Bernie Mac talking, the character he could never play on stage.

He was not a TV dad, wise, calm, loving. He put muscle and feelings in the role, which made him relatable to parents, but also kids. He exposed the frustration and angst that come with assuming a commitment to put the needs of others ahead of one's own.

The real Bernie Mac died Saturday in Chicago of complications from pneumonia. He was only 50. In the time since, people Mac had worked with through his years on stage, in television and in movies, have been coming forward with tributes.

Here are some of what's being said and written about Bernie Mac.

From The New York Times’ William Grimes:

"His special style of tough love – ‘I’m gonna bust your head till the white meat shows,’ he warned his surly teenage niece -- set the show apart from other family sitcoms and raised a few critical eyebrows. But audiences saw enough of the character's soft center to find the show touching."

From Ellen Gray, Philadelphia Daily News:

"The man who began life as Bernard McCullough spent most of it telling stories, and he knew which ones he wanted to tell, and how to tell them.

"It was the softer side of ‘The Bernie Mac Show’ that probably surprised some people, especially those who knew his edgier stand-up act and maybe not that ‘The Andy Griffith Show’ was his favorite show of all time."

From Los Angeles Times The Envelope awards insider Tom O’Neil:

"Back in 2002, this web site was still GoldDerby.com, featuring the input of top journos such as Matt Roush of TV Guide. Here’s how Matt sized up the race for best comedy actor for us: ‘It’s a bear to predict. From where I sit, this is a contest between Bernie Mac and Matt LeBlanc. Bernie Mac has revitalized the family comedy with his unique tough-love point of view and is marvelously funny in his addresses to the camera.’"

From Kelley L. Carter and Glenn Jeffers of the Chicago Tribune:

"The comic born Bernard Jeffrey McCullough cut an imposing figure. He stood a sturdy 6-foot-3 and carried himself with a bouncer's reticence. But perhaps the strongest weapon was that voice, that amalgam of thought and that delivery that could rise like a tidal wave, outpace a Gatling gun and one that remained, to his last days, loud and unapologetic.

"He wasn't scared, he told us time and again, to tell anyone what he thought, to say what others were afraid to say. That fearlessness wasn't always welcome, considering Mac didn't get his big break until his 30s. But when he did, the comic skyrocketed to success in stand-up, television and film."

From Michael Schneider of Variety:

"Mac also frequently shared how he first decided he’d become a comedian: While watching Bill Cosby on ‘Ed Sullivan.’ Mac said he watched his mother laugh and shed tears at the same time, and he said he realized he wanted to do the same thing."

From Joal Ryan of E! Online:

"Mac’s mother never lived to see her son make good on his promise, at least professionally—she died of cancer while he was in high school. Mac's career in comedy started not long after. In 1977, while giving community college a go, the 19-year-old Mac started telling jokes on Chicago’s ‘L’ train platforms. Sometimes, a fellow commuter would slip him a bill. He was on his way."

From Chicago Sun-Times columnist Stella Foster:

"I reached out to popular comedienne Sheryl Underwood, who recalled: ‘When I lived in Chicago years ago and my husband had died, I was thoroughly depressed. Bernie came to the house and said to me, "You can sit and mope if you want to ... but you need to get back on stage." He was the driving force in getting me back on stage.’"