NY Times (1973 Article On The Show): Sanford And Son Is White To The Core

[Old School]

NY Times https://www.nytimes.com/1973/06/17/a...-coeditor.html



WEAPONS are not always obvious. Every one knows at a glance that a gun or knife is a dangerous weapon which can do fearful damage. But in the hands someone very clever or someone very naive, the most innocent‐appearing things can be just as dangerous—a drapery cord, a table fork, a household cleanser. A kiss, if you happen to be Judas.

Laughter can be a weapon cutting down one's self‐esteem, distorting one's self‐image, supporting negative values. Laughter can reinforce ethnic prejudices, can be a vehicle for racial hatred. The old minstrel men knew this as they cavorted over the vaudeville stage cleverly hammering in the clownish stereotype in blackface. American entertainers have always known this, as the development of technology has brought into countless homes such stereotypes as Rochester, Beulah, and the arch de‐humanizers Amos and Andy. Now television is hacking away at the image of blackness with the weapon of laughter. One of the most insidious programs is the popular—and dangerous—“Sanford and Son.”

Let me run down a few basic ideas first, and then I will come back to “Sanford and Son.”

First, it is obvious that in spite of the melting pot myth, black folks and white folks have entirely different styles. How could it be otherwise when we have our African heritage, which is in many respects the opposite of the European heritage, and when the whole American culture has gone to staggering expense and bother to keep us separate and unequal? This simple truth is not recognized by a great many Negroes, who think themselves as Americans who happen to have brown skin, and by the vast majority of white people, who resort to limitless barbarity to keep the black man “in his place” until the black man asserts his difference (e.g., “The Vietcong never called me nword”), at which Whitey insists with wide‐eyed innocence that “we're all Americans.”

Now, I myself see nothing wrong with being different; God knows, I see little in white American culture that I would care to call my own. But this difference strikes terror in the hearts of whites and of white‐thinking Negroes. It is, nevertheless, reality.

Black people have survived in this country by knowing white people (the enemy) far better than white people know us. Every black domestic is an expert on white culture. But whites (most whites) have so seldom recognized the humanity of black people and have had such a compulsion to rationalize their own inhumanity toward blacks that an honest and compassionate look at black culture has been virtually impossible. For this reason, am convinced that there are very few—if, indeed, any—white writers who can portray black characters in a realistic and believable manner. I have never ever encountered a believable black character created by a white American mind—and this includes Twain's Jim, Stowe's Eliza, Faulkner's Dilsey, and certainly all the modern characters have seen on stage, screen or television.

If it is true that black culture and white culture in America are different, then it stands to reason that the humor, too, is different. We find different things funny. And why not?

Black humor has always been based upon solid reality, and reality for us has been the tragedy of our experience in America. Suffering. Strength. Wisdom. Endurance. Look at the laughing/crying humor of the blues, for example. Or go back to the grim humor of the work songs ‐or even the slave seculars. Or look at the old stage performances of Pigmeat Markham and Moms Mabley and Redd Foxx himself—performances for black audiences, when the artists were not lured by the siren song of pirate gold. Humor helped us to survive. And humor was tragic.

White American humor—at least as shown on TV—is frivolous, cruel, and often absolutely stupid. The result is egocentric women with more time and money than brains and compassion—Lucy, for in stance, and Maude—and child‐men who are constantly outwitted and outmaneuvered by wives and children, especially by young‐adult daughters. No wonder the nation has taken to its heart that good old‐fashioned snarling American bigot, Archie Bunker.

Now, back to “Sanford and Son.” To begin with, the show is not based upon black realities but upon a British TV series, “Steptoe and Son.” Now, you simply cannot substitute black characters for white, sprinkle around a little black English, and think you have a black show. For in spite of Redd Foxx's jokes and Demond Wilson's black beauty, “Sanford and Son” re mains white to the core.

Take the Sanfords’ means of livelihood, for instance. Fred and Lamont are examples of American free enterprise: they run a junk shop. Now, how many black junkmen do you know? Well, there must be some, yes. But more typically, black men of limited education would be somewhere laboring for the white man. There would be a whole different set of problems, a whole different range of situations to be dealt with. There are black businessmen without formal business training, to be sure, but they are more typically store keepers or skilled workers such as shoe makers or house painters. The process of ferreting out salable junk, estimating its value, buying and then selling it at a profit is historically more compatible with white minds.

Again—there must be some black junkman somewhere in this great nation. But he would be the exception. White literature does indeed concern it self mainly with the exceptional person, the unique individual; black literature usually deals with the, typical person and thus reflects a community. In this respect, then, the show is more white than black.

The Sanford's themselves are great examples of sick American humor. Fred (Redd Foxx) is a selfish, immature old man who rules his adult son, Lamont (Demond Wilson), by wheeling, scheming, faking illness, and carrying on like a spoiled child—the same techniques perfected by Lucy and repeated on countless situation comedy shows. More over, Fred is jealous and possessive, determined that Lamont will belong to him totally and permanently. When Lamont tries to get married, Fred tries to die. When Lamont tries to go away for a few days with his friend Julio, Fred becomes “ill” and makes plans for his imminent death and burial. When Lamont tries to improve his life by be coming a seaman, after arranging for Fred's care in a residence for the elder ly, Fred is totally uncooperative, insults people who are trying to help him, and finally schemes to frighten Lamont into his plan for a better life.

Fred has other un‐dearing qualities. He is a racist: He assumes that a white cleaning woman (hired during one of his “illnesses”) is constantly about to rape him; he can't stand Julio because Julio is Puerto Rican. Fred is also liar: He persuades Lena Horne to visit him by convincing her that his son is a sick, motherless little child whom she could make soooo happy if only she would come and tuck him in. Fred is narrow‐minded: He insists that all sea men are homosexuals and predicts dire results if Lamont goes to sea. And Fred is a dirty old man: When Lamont cuts short his outing with Julio because he is worried about his “sick” father, he finds Fred strutting home with a bottle of booze and a woman about one‐third his age, whom he has just picked up in

Fred is not even consistent in his obnoxious ways. He may change from one week to another. For example, in a recent episode Lamont buys a com mode (chamber pot) cheap from a white woman. Then a white man shows up claiming his wife did not know the true value of the commode—it seems that the commode is a genuine something‐or other and that George Washington or somebody sat there. The man wants to buy it back for a few dollars more. Fred Sanford, unprincipled jive manipulator that he is, sides with the white man and puts the bad mouth on Lamont (who is reluctant to cooperate)—not because Fred sees a chance for profit, but be cause he doesn't want to cheat anybody! Dig that—he doesn't want to cheat any body! But he sees nothing wrong with taking a white man's side against his son. Of course, the man turns out to be a con man who cheats Lamont out of much to Fred's glee.

Lamont himself is nobody's dream man. He is not even his own man. He is often rude to his father (well, maybe you can't blame him for that), but he lets himself be completely dominated and manipulated by that’ selfish old man. He, too, is jealous, and when Fred brings home a girl friend, instead of trying to do everything he can to get his father off his hands, Lamont breaks up the affair and they are right back where they started.

Funny as a one‐legged man with broken crutch.

There is nothing here that has traditionally motivated black humor—no redemptive suffering, no strength, no tragedy behind the humor. There is only the kind of selfishness and immaturity and bigotry that characterize contemporary American humor. One doesn't learn any thing about the human condition. For contrast, I might cite Langston Hughes's Simple, whose humor points out the ironies of our time. Or Ed Bullins's Big Girl, a foul‐talking lesbian who never the less takes care of the people she loves and manages somehow to cope with her world.

So “Sanford and Son,” as hi as am concerned, is far from black. The show reflects the culture of contemporary white America rather than any intrinsic black values. And there is some thing extremely deceptive about encasing whiteness in a black skin. Dangerous. White America does not want black people to have a self‐concept based on a proud heritage of suffering and strength, for such a self‐concept would liberate our minds and break the death‐grip which threatens our destruction. The American culture tells us in every way that blacks are inferior versions of whites; most whites and an alarming number of blacks believe this.

Fred Sanford and his little boy Lamont, conceived by white minds and based upon a white value system, are not strong black men capable of achieving—or even understanding—liberation. They are merely two more American child‐men. We—all of us—need to be surrounded by positive—and true— images of blackness based upon black realities, not upon white aberrations.

[TVFactFan]

Originally Posted by Old School

NY Times https://www.nytimes.com/1973/06/17/a...-coeditor.html



WEAPONS are not always obvious. Every one knows at a glance that a gun or knife is a dangerous weapon which can do fearful damage. But in the hands someone very clever or someone very naive, the most innocent‐appearing things can be just as dangerous—a drapery cord, a table fork, a household cleanser. A kiss, if you happen to be Judas.

Laughter can be a weapon cutting down one's self‐esteem, distorting one's self‐image, supporting negative values. Laughter can reinforce ethnic prejudices, can be a vehicle for racial hatred. The old minstrel men knew this as they cavorted over the vaudeville stage cleverly hammering in the clownish stereotype in blackface. American entertainers have always known this, as the development of technology has brought into countless homes such stereotypes as Rochester, Beulah, and the arch de‐humanizers Amos and Andy. Now television is hacking away at the image of blackness with the weapon of laughter. One of the most insidious programs is the popular—and dangerous—“Sanford and Son.”

Let me run down a few basic ideas first, and then I will come back to “Sanford and Son.”

First, it is obvious that in spite of the melting pot myth, black folks and white folks have entirely different styles. How could it be otherwise when we have our African heritage, which is in many respects the opposite of the European heritage, and when the whole American culture has gone to staggering expense and bother to keep us separate and unequal? This simple truth is not recognized by a great many Negroes, who think themselves as Americans who happen to have brown skin, and by the vast majority of white people, who resort to limitless barbarity to keep the black man “in his place” until the black man asserts his difference (e.g., “The Vietcong never called me nword”), at which Whitey insists with wide‐eyed innocence that “we're all Americans.”

Now, I myself see nothing wrong with being different; God knows, I see little in white American culture that I would care to call my own. But this difference strikes terror in the hearts of whites and of white‐thinking Negroes. It is, nevertheless, reality.

Black people have survived in this country by knowing white people (the enemy) far better than white people know us. Every black domestic is an expert on white culture. But whites (most whites) have so seldom recognized the humanity of black people and have had such a compulsion to rationalize their own inhumanity toward blacks that an honest and compassionate look at black culture has been virtually impossible. For this reason, am convinced that there are very few—if, indeed, any—white writers who can portray black characters in a realistic and believable manner. I have never ever encountered a believable black character created by a white American mind—and this includes Twain's Jim, Stowe's Eliza, Faulkner's Dilsey, and certainly all the modern characters have seen on stage, screen or television.

If it is true that black culture and white culture in America are different, then it stands to reason that the humor, too, is different. We find different things funny. And why not?

Black humor has always been based upon solid reality, and reality for us has been the tragedy of our experience in America. Suffering. Strength. Wisdom. Endurance. Look at the laughing/crying humor of the blues, for example. Or go back to the grim humor of the work songs ‐or even the slave seculars. Or look at the old stage performances of Pigmeat Markham and Moms Mabley and Redd Foxx himself—performances for black audiences, when the artists were not lured by the siren song of pirate gold. Humor helped us to survive. And humor was tragic.

White American humor—at least as shown on TV—is frivolous, cruel, and often absolutely stupid. The result is egocentric women with more time and money than brains and compassion—Lucy, for in stance, and Maude—and child‐men who are constantly outwitted and outmaneuvered by wives and children, especially by young‐adult daughters. No wonder the nation has taken to its heart that good old‐fashioned snarling American bigot, Archie Bunker.

Now, back to “Sanford and Son.” To begin with, the show is not based upon black realities but upon a British TV series, “Steptoe and Son.” Now, you simply cannot substitute black characters for white, sprinkle around a little black English, and think you have a black show. For in spite of Redd Foxx's jokes and Demond Wilson's black beauty, “Sanford and Son” re mains white to the core.

Take the Sanfords’ means of livelihood, for instance. Fred and Lamont are examples of American free enterprise: they run a junk shop. Now, how many black junkmen do you know? Well, there must be some, yes. But more typically, black men of limited education would be somewhere laboring for the white man. There would be a whole different set of problems, a whole different range of situations to be dealt with. There are black businessmen without formal business training, to be sure, but they are more typically store keepers or skilled workers such as shoe makers or house painters. The process of ferreting out salable junk, estimating its value, buying and then selling it at a profit is historically more compatible with white minds.

Again—there must be some black junkman somewhere in this great nation. But he would be the exception. White literature does indeed concern it self mainly with the exceptional person, the unique individual; black literature usually deals with the, typical person and thus reflects a community. In this respect, then, the show is more white than black.

The Sanford's themselves are great examples of sick American humor. Fred (Redd Foxx) is a selfish, immature old man who rules his adult son, Lamont (Demond Wilson), by wheeling, scheming, faking illness, and carrying on like a spoiled child—the same techniques perfected by Lucy and repeated on countless situation comedy shows. More over, Fred is jealous and possessive, determined that Lamont will belong to him totally and permanently. When Lamont tries to get married, Fred tries to die. When Lamont tries to go away for a few days with his friend Julio, Fred becomes “ill” and makes plans for his imminent death and burial. When Lamont tries to improve his life by be coming a seaman, after arranging for Fred's care in a residence for the elder ly, Fred is totally uncooperative, insults people who are trying to help him, and finally schemes to frighten Lamont into his plan for a better life.

Fred has other un‐dearing qualities. He is a racist: He assumes that a white cleaning woman (hired during one of his “illnesses”) is constantly about to rape him; he can't stand Julio because Julio is Puerto Rican. Fred is also liar: He persuades Lena Horne to visit him by convincing her that his son is a sick, motherless little child whom she could make soooo happy if only she would come and tuck him in. Fred is narrow‐minded: He insists that all sea men are homosexuals and predicts dire results if Lamont goes to sea. And Fred is a dirty old man: When Lamont cuts short his outing with Julio because he is worried about his “sick” father, he finds Fred strutting home with a bottle of booze and a woman about one‐third his age, whom he has just picked up in

Fred is not even consistent in his obnoxious ways. He may change from one week to another. For example, in a recent episode Lamont buys a com mode (chamber pot) cheap from a white woman. Then a white man shows up claiming his wife did not know the true value of the commode—it seems that the commode is a genuine something‐or other and that George Washington or somebody sat there. The man wants to buy it back for a few dollars more. Fred Sanford, unprincipled jive manipulator that he is, sides with the white man and puts the bad mouth on Lamont (who is reluctant to cooperate)—not because Fred sees a chance for profit, but be cause he doesn't want to cheat anybody! Dig that—he doesn't want to cheat any body! But he sees nothing wrong with taking a white man's side against his son. Of course, the man turns out to be a con man who cheats Lamont out of much to Fred's glee.

Lamont himself is nobody's dream man. He is not even his own man. He is often rude to his father (well, maybe you can't blame him for that), but he lets himself be completely dominated and manipulated by that’ selfish old man. He, too, is jealous, and when Fred brings home a girl friend, instead of trying to do everything he can to get his father off his hands, Lamont breaks up the affair and they are right back where they started.

Funny as a one‐legged man with broken crutch.

There is nothing here that has traditionally motivated black humor—no redemptive suffering, no strength, no tragedy behind the humor. There is only the kind of selfishness and immaturity and bigotry that characterize contemporary American humor. One doesn't learn any thing about the human condition. For contrast, I might cite Langston Hughes's Simple, whose humor points out the ironies of our time. Or Ed Bullins's Big Girl, a foul‐talking lesbian who never the less takes care of the people she loves and manages somehow to cope with her world.

So “Sanford and Son,” as hi as am concerned, is far from black. The show reflects the culture of contemporary white America rather than any intrinsic black values. And there is some thing extremely deceptive about encasing whiteness in a black skin. Dangerous. White America does not want black people to have a self‐concept based on a proud heritage of suffering and strength, for such a self‐concept would liberate our minds and break the death‐grip which threatens our destruction. The American culture tells us in every way that blacks are inferior versions of whites; most whites and an alarming number of blacks believe this.

Fred Sanford and his little boy Lamont, conceived by white minds and based upon a white value system, are not strong black men capable of achieving—or even understanding—liberation. They are merely two more American child‐men. We—all of us—need to be surrounded by positive—and true— images of blackness based upon black realities, not upon white aberrations.

This black image would not change until 2 years later when the Jeffersons debuted on CBS

Thanks for the article