The opening sequence of Sanford and Son is one of the most recognizable snippets in television history and an apt encapsulation of early 1970s TV.
But have you ever wondered what’s really happening in thatSanford and Son intro?
Wonder no more, my friend! Here is the scoop, courtesy of the fan-fiction point-of-view vantage of Lamont Sanford himself …
Even now, I’ll bet the old geezer is plotting, getting ready for me … waiting.
I can almost see him there in the early morning Watts sun, waddling out the front door, crusty fan in hand.
He’s wearing a ratty old button-down sweater, thick enough to make a sheep blush, even though my own brow is already beading with sweat.
Fred G. Sanford is getting old for real, I’m afraid, and it’s hard to swallow. I mean, he’s always been Pop to me, and I’ve always been his Dummy, but lately …
The hearing is going …
The “Big One” is coming more and more frequently, and I’m starting to think one of them might be real someday soon.
And the eyesight! Forget it.
I’ll bet he’s plopped down there in that creaky rocking chair outside the shop, trying to read his morning newspaper. He’ll have it spread wide open, held as far away from his body as his arms can reach … and he’ll be leaning back even farther.
No wonder he always gets the stories wrong — he can’t see them!
Alright, almost home now, and …
Holy crap! What a freakin’ mess. The place is a wreck and Pop looks like he’s ready to pounce.
Even worse than I thought.
I can’t handle this today. All I wanted was to head out to El Segundo early, pick up the last of the Sanchez estate, and get back before Pop was even awake.
But … stayed out too late with Rollo last night and didn’t get rolling until about seven. Gonna pay for it now.
Unless … what if I just punch it, head back out?
That’ll be alright. I can just tell Pop later that I got caught up in traffic or something. What’s he going to know?
Now, if only he doesn’t see me go by … doesn’t notice me at the stop sign.
Why do the brakes have to be so loud, anyway? Didn’t I just fix them? Maybe I should take the old truck to the shop, but then that costs money. Maybe after we sell this load, things won’t be so tight.
For now, though — hmmm, maybe I don’t stop at all and just keep going. Nah, the fuzz is always up my butt about something, and I don’t need that trouble. As much of a pain as Pop is, the cops are worse.
I mean, Hoppy and Smitty are decent enough guys, but they’re not too eager to look the other way.
Crap! Pop saw me.
But … I could still just head back out. I don’t have to answer to that old bird. I’m my own man. Some day — soon — “Sanford and Son” will just be “Sanford” — Lamont Sanford, that is.
I mean, who’s the boss here?
Fine, I’ll go back, but he better give me some space. Better not be up in my craw about every little thing.
Maybe he’ll just sit out there and read his paper.
Son of a …