Hal Williams, the veteran actor whose steady charm made him a familiar face to generations of TV viewers, has died. He was 91.

Williams, best known for playing Officer “Smitty” Smith on the classic 1970s sitcom Sanford and Son, died Wednesday morning at his home in Rancho Mirage, California.

His manager, Zna Portlock Houston, said Williams died of natural causes. She also said the actor had been dealing with health issues in recent years.

Just before his death, Williams had returned from Ohio, where he attended a Sanford and Son reunion with his former co-star Howard Platt. Platt played Officer Howard “Hoppy” Hopkins on the beloved NBC comedy.

Houston said Williams felt tired after the trip.

For many viewers, Williams will always be remembered as Smitty, the calm and likable police officer who often appeared alongside Redd Foxx and Demond Wilson on Sanford and Son.

The show launched Williams’ television career in 1972 and quickly became one of the defining sitcoms of the decade. Foxx starred as Fred Sanford, while Wilson played his long-suffering son, Lamont.

Williams later said the show’s staying power came down to one simple thing: it was genuinely funny.

“Because the humor was so real and wasn’t artificial, and it was just generally funny, funny, funny, one laugh after another all the time,” he said days before his death.

After Sanford and Son, Williams continued building the kind of career most working actors dream of.

He appeared on The Waltons and later became known to a new generation as Lester Jenkins on 227, the NBC sitcom that also starred Marla Gibbs and Regina King.

His television résumé stretched across decades and included roles on Good Times, Hill Street Blues, Magnum P.I., Night Court, and L.A. Law.

Williams also appeared in film, with credits including Hardcore, The Rookie, and Flight.

Though he was often cast in comedy, Williams had a grounded presence that made him stand out. He could play the straight man, the authority figure, the neighbor, or the fatherly presence without ever seeming forced.

That was part of his appeal.

He did not need to dominate a scene to be remembered. He had the kind of calm, dependable screen presence that made viewers feel like they knew him.

For older TV fans, Williams was part of a golden era of network television, when sitcom characters became weekly visitors in American living rooms.

His career lasted more than five decades, and his face became tied to some of the most recognizable shows of the 1970s, 1980s, and beyond.

Williams’ death marks the loss of another familiar star from classic television, but his work remains part of the shows that still bring laughs, comfort, and nostalgia to longtime fans.

He leaves behind a legacy built not on flash, but on consistency, warmth, and the kind of natural humor that never really goes out of style.