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.
Harold Stern is working remotely before that was a thing. He is at home at a messy desk. Unlike slobs today, he is not wearing his pajamas in a Zoom call; he is wearing a long-sleeve shirt and a necktie. Although, being a tax accountant, maybe those are his pajamas.
In seconds, Detective Tate is knocking on his door. Stern, living under an alias, tells him he has the wrong man and tries to close the door. The officer pushes his way in, so we know this does not take place in Uvalde. Turns out the police were searching for Stern so he could donate his rare blood type to a crash victim.
He explains to Detective Tate that whenever he gives blood, he can see the future of the recipient. Sometimes they win the lottery, sometimes nothing happens, but other times they die. He even has newspaper clippings to prove the fate of his donees. Well, I don’t think Judge McMann [1] would accept that as evidence of precognition since the events have already taken place. Stern is taken to the hospital where the girl’s father shames him into making the donation.
She gets mad at him looking out for her. He offers her a job and a place to stay. In the next few days, he chews her out for swimming after eating, running with scissors, and scissoring after eating. She gets tired of his warnings and packs to leave.
The AHP version is an immediate improvement. Although the story involves multiple scenes of a bathtub and sunlamp, there was nary an inch of skin to be seen last week. Here, not at all gratuitously, we begin with a dame in a bubble bath. [1]
Judy and Steve search the house. Judy is sure she searched her husband’s clothes before giving them to Goodwill.
Some time later, the man who helped her at the cemetery stops by. He admits he is not a reporter, but an insurance investigator named Westcott. He became interested that Judy’s current husband sold her a $25,000 life insurance policy on her late husband just a month before he croaked. As long as the body was just lying there, he decided to order an autopsy; and, hey, that jacket would be a nice fit. Arsenic is found.
Well wait, they just paid the claim. Didn’t these chowderheads already know when the policy was purchased, who purchased it, and who they just cut a check to? And did it not arouse suspicion that Mrs. Mead bought a policy on her husband and made another man the beneficiary? [3]
Westcott tells her that in 1933 her husband’s mother tripped over a broom and fell down the stairs, leaving him a policy worth $25,000. Then the steering failed in his brother’s car and he collected another $20,000. Then he set his sister up on a date with Ted Kennedy. [2] She demands, “What has this got to do with how my first husband died? Certainly my husband didn’t get anything out of that!” Well, except for the life insurance proceeds that we were told in the first scene were paid directly to him. [3]
He cruises past the world’s oldest and best dressed hitchhiker. Then he has a second thought and slows down. The old gentleman trots up to the car and asks if Paul is going to London. As they drive off together, Paul is seen to be one of those lunatics that actually likes meeting people, enjoys talking to them, and is genuinely interested in what they have to say. Wait, I have a feeling I’m rooting for the wrong guy here.
Paul tells the HH to fasten his seatbelt, and he puts his on too. I guess going a mere 70 without them had been OK. They are thrown back in their seats as Paul accelerates. He gets the speed up to 125 MPH, then sees a motorcycle cop in the mirror. The HH urges him to just outrun the cop.
Watching all three of them work is a