Petticoat Junction (1963) s01e16 Episode Script

1
Come ride the little train ♪
That is rollin' down the tracks to the Junction ♪
Forget about your cares ♪
It is time to relax at the Junction ♪
Lots of curves, you bet ♪
And even more when you get ♪
To the Junction ♪
Petticoat Junction ♪
There's a little hotel called
the Shady Rest at the Junction ♪
Petticoat Junction ♪
It is run by Kate, come and
be her guest at the Junction ♪
Petticoat Junction ♪
And that's Uncle Joe, he's a-movin' kinda slow ♪
At the Junction ♪
Petticoat Junction! ♪
Shady Rest Hotel.
Is that the place your mother runs?
My goodness! Are we here already?
Yeah. We're here already.
We've only been walking for four hours.
I've enjoyed listening to you so much,
I haven't even been conscious of walking.
Yeah, well, I have.
Well, come on up and take a hot bath
and get some food.
You'll feel lots better.
No. I'm just going to rest her for a while,
and then I'm going to move on.
But, Alan, I wanted you to meet my mom
and my sisters and my Uncle Joe.
No. Not that family bit.
I mean, that warm, friendly small talk
just turns me right off.
You mean? I mean it's so insincere.
People ask you how you are,
but they don't listen to what you say. Why?
Because they don't care.
My family would care.
You think so, huh?
You get home from school, they probably say,
"How was school?" Right?
Something like that.
Well, I'll bet you that, if you say, "Lousy,"
they'll say, "Oh! That's fine. Let's eat."
Baby, don't you see how confused you are?
Yes, Alan, I am confused,
but I want to find the truth
as you have found it.
Please stay and help me.
Aw, no. Baby, you're too soft.
You're too tender to face truth.
You're a dove. I'm an eagle.
I'm screaming at life.
I'm longing just to tear it wide open.
Oh, please, Alan, please stay, at least for a while.
Wow, you're such a nice kid.
You're bright, too.
I just want to rest here for a while,
and then I'm gonna be moving on.
My mom's a wonderful cook, Alan,
and I know you must be hungry.
And I promise you, you won't have to make
any small talk with the family.
You can just eat, and everyone will be quiet.
Will it make you happy, kid?
Yes, Alan.
Listen, you wait here,
and I'll run up and warn everybody.
I mean, that you don't want to be bored and all.
Okay.
Listen, you fly on, dove.
Maybe the eagle will be here
when you get back and maybe not.
Oh, please be here, Alan.
Please.
You say he's from New York?
New York City. He's a writer and a poet.
You say he's good-looking, huh?
Oh, he's handsome and so intellectual.
And you left him sitting down at the track?
Well, he's resting;
we walked all the way from Hooterville.
You walked all the way from Hooterville?!
Not really, Mom.
I floated, I flew, I danced!
Oh, Mom, he's so brilliant!
Where you going, Billie Jo?
Uh, well, I just thought I'd freshen up a little bit.
Uh, we want to make a good impression, don't we?
We sure do, Billie.
Oh, Mom, Alan's the first boy I've ever met
that I can really communicate with.
Well, he knows everything, he's read everything.
He's so deep and so alive,
so sensitive and so profound.
And you met him in Hooterville?
Uh-huh.
At the library on my way to school this morning.
Bobbie Jo, come over here and sit down,
and tell me everything, right from the beginning.
Okay. Hi, Bobbie.
How were things at school today?
Oh, just lousy.
That's fine. Let's eat, Kate.
Mom, you see? We just don't listen to each other.
We're just not alive.
Well, I'm alive, and I'm hungry.
We're all hungry, Uncle Joe!
We're hungry to know who we are,
where we are and why we're here.
Well, speaking for myself, I'm Joe Carson,
I'm in the kitchen, and I'm in here to eat.
Oh!
No wonder Alan's so bitter!
Oh! Hello.
I didn't know you were here.
Yes, you did.
That's why you came down here.
Well, come to think of it, my sister did mention something.
Are you the boy from New York City?
Greenwich Village.
Oh.
Bobbie Jo said New York.
You know, she never gets anything right.
Uh, if you were to move your feet, I could sit down.
I know.
I guess you are tired.
Yeah, I'm tired
of painted-up, empty-headed chicks like you.
What?
You're all alike.
And why do you have to keep
proving to yourself that you're a woman?
Don't you know?
I know that you're the rudest man
that I've ever met!
Bugs you, doesn't it?
Hi, Billie. Did you meet Alan?
Yes!
Bobbie, you take my advice
and don't fall for him, because he's already in love.
He is? Yes.
With himself.
What have you got against the boy?
You haven't even met him.
I don't trust big city fellows,
especially from New York.
I don't trust writers, especially poets.
When you put the two together,
you're gonna have a lot of trouble.
Bobbie Jo says he's the first boy with whom she ever had
an intellectual rapport.
Now, you see, already you got trouble.
Uncle Joe, an "intellectual rapport"
means a meeting of the minds.
Kate, Kate, you don't know poets like I do.
Oh, where'd you ever learn about poets?
From reading their poetry, that's where.
Like what?
Like this.
"There was a young girl from Duluth, who always"
Uncle Joe, that isn't poetry.
What do you mean it ain't? It rhymes.
Last line goes I don't want to hear it.
And I also don't want to hear any more talk
against Bobbie Jo's poet friend.
I understand exactly how she feels.
When I was a girl, I was in love with Longfellow, Whittier,
Byron, Keats, Shelley
All at the same time.
Yeah, but one big city fella can be more dangerous
than them five local boys put together.
Mom?
In here, Bobbie Jo.
Mom, Uncle Joe,
I'd like you to meet Alan Landman.
How do you do, Mr. Landman?
It's an honor to have you here.
What kind of poems you write, Alan?
My poetry is, uh
a cry of anguish in the tortured night.
Oh, you write jingles for them indigestion commercials.
Uncle Joe!
Oh, no, no, I'm sure Mr. Landman
is way above anything like commercial jingles.
Well, of course he is.
My poetry is a scream of protest.
I sound the alarm.
I hang the bell on the cat.
I shout in the atrophied ear of a sleeping America.
Isn't that marvelous?
It's wonderful.
You like it?
It's absolutely fascinating,
inspirational.
You didn't understand a word I said.
Not a word.
What a meal!
That Dutch apple pie was lapping good.
Kate really outdone herself tonight.
So did you.
You keep on eating like that,
and you're gonna have to back up to a door to knock on it.
Oh, Uncle Joe, stop teasing Charley.
He's not so fat.
I've seen people a lot fatter.
Yeah, me, too, but I had to buy a ticket.
Mom Yes?
Do I have to take part in that silly poetry reading?
Oh, of course not, dear.
You can wash the dishes.
Oh, you know, I'd rather wash the dishes than listen to
you know who.
Now that Mr. Landman is here,
we can start the poetry discussion.
Be seated, everybody.
Now, I thought it'd be kind of nice if each of us recited
a couple of lines from our favorite poem.
And then I'm sure that Mr. Landman will favor us
with one of his original compositions.
You start it off, Kate.
You're already on your feet.
Take Charley an hour to get to his.
This is from the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam.
"Here with a loaf of bread beneath the bough."
"A flask of wine, a book of verse."
"And thou beside me singing in the wilderness."
"And wilderness is paradise enow."
Ain't that kind of risqué for mixed company?
I don't think so.
They was just singing and drinking a little wine.
But they're out in the wilderness.
True.
But they could be married; It don't say.
A man don't go out in the woods with his wife.
Yeah, but he was drinking wine, don't forget.
That's enough discussion.
Um, who else has some poetry?
You, Bobbie Jo?
Oh, I'd rather just sit and listen, Mom.
How about you fellas?
Don't you have some poetry you like?
Here's a little poem I kind of like.
"I never seen a purple cow
"I never hope to see one.
"But I can tell you anyhow
I'd rather see than be one."
Don't you get it?
Feller says he'd rather see a purple cow
than be a purple cow.
Well, naturally.
Who'd want to be a purple cow?
Come to think about it, that ain't so funny.
I know a funny one.
"There was a young girl from Duluth"
Uh, uh
I think the time has come for our guest of honor,
Mr. Alan Landman from New York City,
uh, to treat us to a sample of real poetry.
Hear, hear.
I, uh be happy to take part in this gig,
although, uh, I don't know whether
I'm far enough out for you cats or not.
This is, uh, my latest poem.
"A gut thin whining wind.
"Defiles the groaning bones.
"Of neon-blinded seekers.
"After murky morning.
"The burning mud explodes.
"A screaming pathway.
"To hollow thunder of agony.
"I fall, I fall" And cheated dreams.
A toenail splits."
W
Who would like to start the discussion?
I think that was one of
the most exciting poems I've ever heard.
Anybody else?
Uh, Floyd?
Did you have an emotional reaction
from Mr. Landman's poem?
Yeah, but I think it's the Dutch apple pie.
I'd like to know what it means,
if anything. So would I.
It means that this is a cemetery.
And you're all corpses.
Good night.
Oh, Alan, wait for me!
Want a cigarette?
Sure.
The wind.
The wind's kind of chilly.
The wind is kind of chilly?
You know what E.I. Boyer says about the wind?
What?
"The wind is a switchblade knife.
"Slashing at the polluting smokestacks.
"Of urban insanity.
Nature's rumble with the defiling beetle called man."
Oh, I wish I could learn to express myself like that.
Well, you'll never do it around here, baby.
So long. I'm going for a walk.
Oh, can I come along?
Oh, please?
I mean, I won't talk. I'll just listen.
Okay, kid.
Kate. Kate.
What? Who's sleeping?
It's 1:00. Why don't you go on up to bed.
I'll wait up for Bobbie Jo and that poet.
No, I-I want to see Bobbie Jo when she comes in.
Well, in that case
I don't think Bobbie Jo's really serious about that boy.
Hmm.
When I was her age,
I nearly ran away with a boy just like him.
That's what worries me.
Yeah, but Bobbie Jo Shh!
Here they come.
Oh, what a terrible hand.
I ought to shoot you, Uncle Joe,
for giving me cards like this.
Oh, look who's here.
Sorry we're late.
Late? Is it late?
I didn't notice.
Mom, I know you're waiting up for me.
Yes, I was.
Go to bed, honey.
I want to talk to Mr. Landman.
Okay, but I want you to know
that whatever he says, I'm completely on his side.
Good night, Alan.
Good night, baby.
Good night, Uncle Joe.
Am I leaving?
Yes, you are.
Good nights, pops.
Uncle Joe, Mr. Landman said good night to you.
He can't expect a corpse to answer you back.
Especially when its name isn't "pops."
Okay, I'm going to save you a lot of time.
I'm crazy about Bobbie.
We've been talking about me sending for her
when I get to New Orleans.
Uh-huh.
Is that all you're going to do, just sit there and smile?
Smiling on the outside, screaming on the inside.
Um, tell me something, Mr. Landman
In view of the circumstances,
don't you think you should call me Alan?
In view of the circumstances, what I should call you
but I'll settle for Mr. Landman.
Uh, are you planning on getting a job
when you go to New Orleans.
Are you kidding?
I mean, work is for suckers.
Oh, I see. I see.
How're you going to live?
Oh, I've got a lot of friends down there.
Musicians.
They all like me.
They all have pads.
That means "rooms."
Thank you.
Then you plan on living your life
as a parasite.
That means "sponge."
Listen, this is strictly nowhere.
You've got a lot of sick,
old-fashioned ideas about working hard
and living clean, and it's all a lot of junk.
I'm too tired to listen.
Now, Bobbie knows what she's getting in to.
It sounds good to her.
I'll be taking off in the morning.
Good night.
You heard that?
Yeah, it's bad.
What are you going to do?
I don't know.
Of course you realize he'll be gone tomorrow.
He'll never send for her. You know that.
I know that.
And she'll always remember him
as a romantic, young rebel
full of courage and exciting ideas.
Yeah, I guess you're right.
Why don't you have a good talk with her?
That's the worst thing I could do.
We'd only wind up yelling at each other
and he'd be a bigger hero than ever to her.
No, talking to her about it would be a big mistake.
Big mistake.
All those ideas of his
are just a cover-up and an excuse
for being a failure, for not having a job,
for just being a bum,
wandering around and living off other people.
And you have been taken in by all that phony talk.
And I am making a big mistake.
Oh, Mom, you just don't understand Alan.
He he has ideals.
Thinks the world is full of hypocrisy
and he's attacking it.
That's a lot of hogwash.
He's just afraid to go out and fight for a job.
But just let somebody offer him
a nice, soft position, and you'll see
how fast he'll stop attacking that hypocrisy,
and start lapping it up.
And now that I've made my big mistake,
good night.
Your mother's just looking out
for your welfare, Bobbie Jo.
I suppose you don't like Alan either.
No, but it's nothing personal.
He's been nice to me. In fact, he told me I was
the biggest square shooter he'd ever met.
Of course he took a poetic license
and left out shooter.
This way, Mr. Stanley.
Thank you, Mrs. Bradley.
Oh, Uncle Joe, I'd like you to meet Mr. Stanley.
He's going to spend a couple of days with us,
get away from the high pressure of big business.
Hi. Hello there.
This is my daughter, Bobbie Jo.
Hello, Mr. Stanley. Bobbie Jo.
You're leaving, Alan?
Yeah, kid, but you'll be hearing from me.
Oh, Mr. Landman, you should meet Mr. Stanley.
He's from New York, too.
Mr. Stanley, Mr. Landman.
How are you, young man?
You really want to know?
Mr. Stanley is the president
of the Rollo Dog Food Company.
He was telling me all about his advertising problems.
It's driving me out of my mind.
I've offered a $2,000 bonus
for a jingle I can use on radio and television
and no one in my agency can come up with one.
$2,000 just for a jingle?
Just a four-line jungle.
Mr. Landman is a poet.
Oh, of course he only writes high-class stuff.
Is that so?
$2,000?
I know what's going on in your mind.
You do?
You think Alan's going to be tempted by that $2,000
and try to sell Mr. Stanley a dog food jingle.
Mm, I don't think a superior artist
full of ideals would do that.
No, never.
By the way, I thought your poet friend
was leaving this morning?
Well, he was, but he had to
Listen to this one, Mr. Stanley.
"Rollo dog food is never gummy.
"Can't form a ball in your puppy's tummy.
Rollo dog food is doggone yummy."
Mm, it has human appeal,
but speaking from the dog's viewpoint,
it doesn't make my tail wag.
Then how about this one.
"When your poodle's feeling hollow,
fill him up with a can of Rollo."
Mm
Well, what's so wrong with Alan
wanting to earn $2,000 when you think about it?
Nothing at all.
It'll give him the freedom to write real poetry.
Absolutely.
Besides, if you have a genuine
big talent like Alan does, you can write
those silly jingles without losing
any of your artistic dignity.
Never lose his dignity.
Because his talent's too big.
"Get some Rollo now, now, now.
Make sure dogs say, "Bow-wow-wow!"
How was that for real dog appeal?
Does that make your tail wag, Mr. Stanley?
Mr. Landman, I'll be honest.
You have talent, all right,
but I just don't think you talk dog language.
Well, forgive me for saying it, sir,
but must your advertising appeal to the dogs?
I mean, after all it is the humans who buy it.
We've got to please the dog.
We cater to the dog.
We've got to sleep dog, eat dog,
think dog understand?
Or do you think I'm crazy.
Oh, crazy, no, sir.
Oh, I know. You're after the money.
Well, I'll pay anything to the writer
you'll get inside the dog's mind with me.
I'm in there, but I can't write.
I really think I can do it given a little time.
Well, I don't know.
Dog persons are born, not made.
You've either got that dog in you or you haven't.
And I say you can't please a dog consistently
if you don't have the dog's viewpoint.
I feel I really have it, sir.
I don't know. You're tempted by the money.
No, really!
Dogs, they seem to feel that I'm one of them.
They accept me.
Are you sure?
Sometimes they pretend just to get food out of you.
No, no, it's sincere.
I warn you, you can't fool a real dog person.
And I'm real dog, my boy.
I'll tell you something confidential, may I?
Please.
When I see a cat, I want to chase it up a tree.
Now you think I'm crazy, right?
No, on the contrary.
I've never told anyone, but
I like to run after cars
and bite at the tires.
That's a good sign.
You're not lying?
I cross my heart and hope to get run over.
This may be a great day for Rollo.
I'd like to shake your paw.
Bow-wow-wow. Arf-arf-arf.
Poor Bobbie Jo.
She sure is busted up.
Mmm, I wish somebody'd invent a way to take
the pain out of growing up.
Boy, I can't get over how lucky it was
that crazy dog food man showing up here
just in time to show up that Mr. Landman.
Wasn't that lucky, though?
It was amazing.
You might call it fate.
You might.
That's fate spelled K-A-T-E.
What's going on here?
Uncle Joe, meet Roger Stanley,
the best restaurant supply salesman
in the country. Restaurant supply?
He's new in this territory.
First time he was here,
you were in Pixley with the girls.
Glad I could help you out, Kate.
Oh, you put him up to the whole thing.
Yeah. You did a wonderful job, Roger.
And anytime,
you are my guest here for free.
Oh, forget it.
I had a lot of fun.
Kind of a dirty trick on that kid, though.
Oh, it'll do him more good than harm.
Well, so long.
I'll see you the next time through.
Bye, Roger. Thanks again.
And don't chase any cats.
Ruff!
So long.
You know, Kate, I never realized
that you're a gall-dang genius.
Oh, no, Uncle Joe.
I'm just a gall-dang mother.
Petticoat Junction. ♪
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