My casino has a manager, it’s M-E-Y-E-R.  Peter Falk plays Meyer Fine, manager of a high-class speakeasy / casino during prohibition. ^[1]  Enjoy his performance, because it’s about all you’re going to get out of this episode.

He enters the main room of his apartment above the casino, wearing a tuxedo shirt, a bow tie, and a fabulous robe.  He sits down, and his servant John kneels and removes his shoes.  What the heck?  I’ve watched twenty-eight seasons and two boring, boring movies of Downton Abbey, but I’ve never seen Mr. Barrow tying anyone’s shoes; although he did seem do a lot of kneeling in front of dudes.

Even more baffling, John is just swapping them out for another pair of shoes.  Not slippers, shoes — they clunk when tossed aside.  What’s going on anyway?  John just told another minion that Mr. Fine was “having his bauth” (the accent is a very funny reference to John’s gangsta past).  Did he put on a pair of shoes (all by himself, like a big boy) to walk one room?

Fine then tours the floor of his casino.  Sadly the rule of no cameras in casinos does not apply to this AHP episode.  He is shown to be a sensitive, caring man.  We see him worry about an injured dealer, caution a man who is betting over his head not with it, and confess that he is terrified of death.

Turns out the high-roller — Hunter Combs — comes from big money as his father is president . . . of a railroad, I mean.  Meyer’s concern is not all humanitarian.  He worries that if the father knew his son was wasting his life gambling, whoring, banging his sister-in-law, and smoking crack that these establishments might get the wrong kind of attention.  You know, unless the kid was also funneling $10 millions of graft from the Communist Chinese into the family coffers.

Later that evening, Fine is told that Combs “blew his brains” out in the subway.  A police Lieutenant tells Fine and his fellow managers that he plans to close down “the private clubs you fellas have been running . . . for restricted membership.”  He says Combs went through $250,000 in 11 months, which was worth something back then. ^[2] He warns that Hunter’s father will destroy the three men, and that all news of it will be suppressed in the corrupt media.

The next night, Fine sees a man at the bar he does not recognize.  He learns the bouncer let the man in when he produced a “courtesy card” from another establishment even though it needed 2 more punches for a free sub.  Strangely, the bouncer had no curiosity about the box he carried which was big enough for a human head.  Seconds later, the man pulls out a camera the size of a human head, and takes a picture of the casino and its clientele.  He runs off running from the casino. ^[3] Fine tells his goons to “take care of him.”  Seconds later, the man is shot dead in the doorway of his detective agency.

Fine is distressed to hear that the man was killed when he only wanted him roughed up a little.  He meets with the other club managers and talks about this business they are in.  He says the death was not what he intended. They are interrupted with news that the hothead who shot Combs was just killed in a drive-by.

He worries that “The Dutchman” has called a meeting of all the club managers except him, and there will be pizza and girls.  For the rest of the episode, his forehead is glistening.  He decides he needs to tell The Dutchman his side of the story in person.

The next morning, as he is walking down his steps, he is shot in a drive-by.  He is able to stagger back inside  where John tends to his wound.  John suggests he hide out in Jersey.  Fine says he couldn’t stand to let The Dutchman see how scared he is.

Fine takes a pistol from his desk drawer and puts it to his head.  He breaks down that he doesn’t have the courage to use it.  He begs John to help him.  Which he does.

The lieutenant is baffled that John killed Fine after he had been so generous to him. The lieutenant says, “Didn’t ya ever hear of a thing called gratitude?”  I’m baffled that this is considered such a pivotal point that it is the title of the episode.  The themes up to this point had been Fine as a competent, sensitive man in a rough trade.  Next, he opened up about having such a fear of death that he couldn’t even attend a funeral.  Nothing foreshadowing the gratitude angle.  Sure, maybe John was so grateful that Meyer saved him from a life of crime that he . . . er, committed a heinous crime for him.  But it feels tacked on.

However, I have to apply a lesson that I learned after bitching about Ray Bradbury Theatre for 6 seasons; or maybe I just got 6 years older.  OK, nothing much happens here.  Peter Falk has a nice showcase.  Gangster-turned-valet John is a character I’ve never seen before.  But in service of what?  There is no suspense, no scares, no twist. ^[4]  It is just a day — granted, a big one — in Meyer Fine’s life.  Meh, maybe that’s enough.

Other Stuff:

• [1] Upon further review, I see Alfred says the episode takes place in 1916, which places it well before Prohibition.  I guess the illicit activity here is the gambling and scantily-clad college girls dancing in the back [scenes cut for time].
• [2]  Holy crap — about $6.7 million today !
• [3]  That was a typo, but I kinda dig it.
• [4]  If you still crave something dark and creepy, check out the magazine cover this story was originally published under in 1922.  Yikes!  You were warned.
• The AHP gang must have known there wasn’t much here.  Alfred’s intro and outro both feature a complete non-sequitur — a violent western saloon brawl!
• I always feel validated when I see that Jack at bare*bones shared my opinion of an episode.  It’s like beating everyone at Final Jeopardy.  Tonight (06/25/22 — it took me  while to get motivated) I nailed Gertrude Stein, which not many guys can say.