Everyone remembers the chest-clutching. "This is the big one, Elizabeth!" It’s the definitive image of Redd Foxx, the man who turned a grumpy junk dealer into a national treasure. But honestly, if you only know him as Fred Sanford, you’re missing the most dangerous, brilliant, and arguably tragic parts of his story.
Foxx wasn't just a sitcom star. He was a revolution in a tuxedo. Long before Richard Pryor or Eddie Murphy were even allowed near a microphone, Foxx was selling millions of "party records" under the counter. These weren't your grandma’s comedy albums. They were blue. Filthy. Real. He talked about sex and race in a way that made white suburbanites nervous and Black audiences feel seen for the first time in mainstream media.
The Hustle Before the Fame
John Elroy Sanford didn't have it easy. Born in St. Louis in 1922, he eventually ended up in Chicago and then New York, washing dishes at Jimmy’s Chicken Shack in Harlem. Here’s a wild bit of history for you: his co-worker at that sink was a guy named Malcolm Little. You might know him better as Malcolm X. Back then, they were just "Chicago Red" and "Detroit Red," two young guys trying to survive.
Foxx got his stage name from his ruddy complexion and his admiration for baseball star Jimmie Foxx. He spent decades grinding on the "Chitlin’ Circuit," a network of Black-owned venues where performers could actually work during segregation.
The King of Party Records
By the 1950s, he started recording these "party records." Because they were so raunchy, they weren't played on the radio. They were sold in plain brown paper bags. It’s hard to imagine now, but he released over 50 of these things. He basically invented the modern comedy album. Without Foxx, there is no Raw or Delirious.
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Sanford and Son: The Breakthrough
When Sanford and Son premiered in 1972, Redd Foxx was already 49. He had to wear aging makeup to look like the 65-year-old Fred. The show was a massive hit because it felt gritty and authentic compared to the polished, "perfect" families on other channels.
Fred Sanford was a masterpiece of character acting. He was rude, cheap, and perpetually scheming, yet you couldn't help but love him. Foxx brought his real-life friends onto the show, too. LaWanda Page, who played the Bible-thumping Aunt Esther, was a friend from his childhood and the nightclub circuit. Their chemistry wasn't scripted—it was decades of mutual respect and hilarious rivalry.
- Salary Wars: He knew his worth. In 1974, Foxx walked out of the show demanding a higher salary and a better dressing room (one with a window!). He eventually got a huge raise, making around $25,000 per episode, which was massive back then.
- The "Big One" Gag: The fake heart attacks were a recurring bit to guilt his son, Lamont. It’s the kind of physical comedy that defines an era.
The IRS and the Darker Years
Success didn't mean stability. Despite making millions, Redd Foxx was notoriously bad with money. He lived a lavish lifestyle, bought expensive cars, and went through several expensive divorces. By the late 1980s, the IRS was breathing down his neck.
In 1989, things got ugly. Tax agents showed up at his Las Vegas home and literally stripped the place. They took his jewelry, his cars, and even his furniture while he watched. It was a humiliating blow for a man who had pioneered so much for the industry. He reportedly owed over $3.6 million in back taxes by the time he died.
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A Final Irony
Foxx was staging a comeback with a new show called The Royal Family in 1991. During a rehearsal, he clutched his chest and collapsed. Because he’d done the "Elizabeth, I'm coming!" bit for years, the cast and crew thought he was joking. They stood there laughing for several moments before realizing he was actually dying.
He passed away that night. He was 68. In a final act of respect, Eddie Murphy—who had starred with him in Harlem Nights—reportedly stepped in to pay for the funeral because Foxx was so broke.
Why We Still Talk About Him
Redd Foxx wasn't just a funny guy; he was a bridge. He bridged the gap between the vaudeville era and the modern stand-up world. He showed that Black comedy didn't have to be "safe" or sanitized for a white audience to be successful.
He fought for creative control when nobody else would. He demanded that Black writers and actors be involved in his projects. He was difficult, brilliant, and unapologetically himself until the very end.
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Takeaways for Comedy Fans:
- Listen to the early stuff: If you can find his Dooto Records albums, listen to them. They are a time capsule of 1950s Black culture.
- Watch the chemistry: Re-watch Sanford and Son specifically for the scenes between Fred and Aunt Esther. That is a masterclass in comedic timing.
- Respect the path: Every time you watch a modern comic use "blue" language, remember that Redd Foxx risked his career and freedom to make that possible.
The best way to honor his legacy is to keep laughing at the "junk." He taught us that even in a pile of scrap metal, there’s usually something worth keeping.
Next Steps for Deep Dives:
You should check out the 1989 film Harlem Nights. It’s the only time you get to see Redd Foxx, Richard Pryor, and Eddie Murphy on screen together. It’s basically the passing of the torch in real-time. Also, look into the history of the "Chitlin’ Circuit" to understand the world that molded his specific brand of grit.