Twenty-Three year old Suzanne Pleshette . . .

Really I could stop tight there, give the episode a 10, and move on.  Unfortunately, this great natural resource is somewhat wasted.

No-nonsense Charles Underhill has just picked his niece Anne up at the courthouse.  She was hanging out with a car thief, but got off easy because Underhill is a city council-man and the judge knows him to be a model citizen and honest public servant.  Except for using his office to get his gangsta kinfolk out of the hoosegow.  Honest except for that.

The judge lets Anne off so as not to damage the sterling reputation of the council-man.  Underhill tells her she should be grateful, and she grudgingly thanks him.  To straighten her out, he tells her he is pulling her out of college and sending her to work in an office for one of his friends.  Probably the one that needs a loading zone in front of his store.

He pulls his land yacht over and runs into a store to buy some cigarettes, so I guess the example-setting only goes so far.  While he is gone, Anne notices a cute guy hitchhiking.  She certainly has a type.  Their eyes meet, but Underhill breaks the mood by returning.  Before he can resume his lecture, the car ahead of him backs into his car.  “Look at her!  Can’t even pull out of a parking space!” he says and lays on the horn.

Unfortunately, the horn gets stuck in the F-U position and won’t stop blaring.  Anne is greatly amused at his inability to stop the horn, and his discomfort at becoming a spectacle in the downtown square.  The good towns-folk stop and stare, but the hitchhiker takes action.  He comes over and disconnects the horn.

Underhill, being a proper gentleman, thanks him.  The twitchy punk says, “A noisy horn, it bugs me.”  Underhill compliments his mechanical skillz, and he says, “Either you dig a motor or you don’t.”  Len, a hipster doofus of the type inexplicably considered cool at the time, hits Underhill up for a ride to San Francisco.  Two-time County Safety Award winner Underhill takes a dim view of hitchhikers, or it might just his presbyopia flaring up.  Len reminds him that he did help the old guy out of a jam.  After initially refusing, Underhill relents and gives him a ride.

Well, we get a lengthy exploration of the generation gap.  A new age had arrived in Hollywood, so the dialogue is written to let the cool Len score all the points against the geezer Underhill.  But, ya know, when you dig into it, Len is kinda full of shit.

• Len is the criminal here, let’s not forget that.  Sure, Underhill is old and stodgy, but Len is actually the parasite who stole the product of another man’s work.  They might present him as cool and charismatic, but he was in jail for theft.
• Len talks about his dream of building a car and racing it around the world.  A little out-there, but respectable, especially the part about building it himself.  But what has he done to make it happen?  Instead, he whines about “insiders” like Underhill who have worked 40 years for what they have.
• He goes on and on about knives.  Underhill understandably gets nervous and attracts the attention of a cop.  Len then complains that he had said he was talking about his cell-mate, not himself.  Granted, he did say his cell-mate was the knife aficionado.  But it seemed to have rubbed off on him, and Underhill was correct to be concerned, especially with his impressionable, dimwitted niece in the car.
• As part of his “insiders” vs “outsiders” rant, Len talks about poet Dylan Thomas.  He tells the geezer Underhill he could never understand a young guy like that.  Well Thomas was born only 7 years after Underhill, dumbass. ^[1]
• There is a twist in which Underhill compromises his “old-fashioned” values.  It is presented as a victory for the smirking Len, but really it is just a sad, early fracture of American standards.
• In the final shot, Len is shown tearing up paper and throwing it out the window of the moving car.  So add litterbug to his charges.

So Len is really just one of the first in a long line of sanctimonious hippie blowhards that finally took over popular culture in Easy Rider.  But in his short hair and button down shirt, he probably smelled a lot better.

And what I mean by all this complaining is that it is a great episode.  John McIntire is great as the stodgy, old-school geezer.  He was so good that I’m not sure he was acting.  Robert Morse can frequently be cloying and/or obnoxious as he hams it up.  His persona worked in this episode, though, as the counter-point to the older man’s rigidity.  Really both were caricatures as they somewhat have to be in a 30 minute show.  Sadly, Suzanne Pleshette is given little to do; but she is very cute doing it.

No, I’m not 80.

Other Stuff:

• ^[1] Granted, their current ages are quite different.  But that is because the poet Len admires as the pinnacle of humanity drank himself to death at age 39 leaving behind a wife and children.
• Title Analysis:  Why Hitch Hike rather than Hitchhike?  Why Hitch Hike rather than Hitchhiker?  The Hitchcock/Hitch Hike similarity doesn’t make sense.  I’m baffled.
• The titular similarity to the dreadful Hitchhiker series also somewhat tainted the experience.
• My general crotchetiness possibly due to being stuck in traffic today beside two motorcycles.  OK, you’re already riding a 100 decibel boom box.  Do you really need to blast a stereo that you can hear above that?  Plus they were fat guys with no shirts.
• No, I’m really not 80.

In which Alfred Hitchcock Presents proves once again that it is just about incapable of turning out a bad episode.  Ya got an motor-mouth kid, ya got an extended flashback, ya got a straight drama, ya don’t even get a murder.  This feels like a very different type of episode, but they pull it off bigly.

In NYC, Clete Vine picks up a newspaper. ^[1]  The headline shouts BROOKLYN RACKETS BOSS SHOT TO DEATH.  Who says the news is never good?  The entire front page above the fold is a picture of the bloody gangster slumped behind the wheel of a large automobile.  Clete remembers the gangster from when they were kids 35 years earlier.

Clete and Iggy Kovacs live in Brooklyn.  One day they are excited to see a fancy car.  As they are climbing all over it, they get caught by gangster Mr. Rose and his chauffeur getaway driver Joe.  The two humorless cretins chase the kids off.

Like all 12 year old kids in 1925 Brooklyn, Iggy dreams of golf.  He has his eye on a $10 putter in a store window.  With all due respect to AHP, I have my doubts about this.  That would be about $140 today.  While you can find a putter for that now, I doubt they had such high-end equipment back then.  And could this kid come up with that kind of dough? ^[2]

His father comes walking by after his softball game at the park.  It is clear that Mr. Kovacs is a hero to his son and respected by Clete.  We also learn that Clete will be moving into the city the next day,  The boys decide to go to the golf course to make some money by fishing golf balls out of the water hazards.

While there, they see Joe and Mr. Rose drive up in either that fancy car, or the world’s fanciest golf cart.  The kids hide behind a bunker as they watch them pull another man out of the car and start roughing him up.  Somehow the gangsters have decided that the fairway of the golf course is a place they are unlikely to have any witnesses, which is true if I’m playing.

Joe and Mr. Rose beat this guy pretty good.  Joe drags him to the water hazard and tosses him in.  After the gangsters drive off, the boys go to help the man.  He just tells them to “get outta here!”

Iggy wants to tell the cops about Mr. Rose, but Clete is hesitant.  He figures the man can go to the police himself, but Iggy knows the man would be too scared.  Clete finally agrees — he’s moving tomorrow; what does he care?  They go to the police station.  When the cops hear Mr. Rose is involved, they are not interested.  Iggy says he will tell everyone, including his father.  Finally the desk sergeant tells another cop to bring in Mr. Rose for question, and Iggy’s father too.  Iggy says to Clete, “Just wait til my pop gets here.  He’ll show that cop, and Mr. Rose, too.”

When Mr. Rose gets there, the sergeant asks him if he was at the golf course.  He calmly denies it and suggests the little scamps are playing a trick on him after he chased them away from his car earlier that day.  Iggy tells his Pop he’s telling the truth and begs to be believed.  “He was only a little guy, Pop, and Mr. Rose nearly killed him!”  The shot is strangely framed as we see his father from the chest up.  Only Iggy’s wrist and hand is visible as he touches his father’s face and tugs at his shirt, begging for his father to do something.

Mr. Rose actually looks concerned that this touching scene might put him behind bars.  Mr. Kovacs knows better than to cross him, though.  He appears pained as he tells Iggy, “I don’t want you going around telling stories about people, ya hear me?”  Iggy looks up at his father — silently, for the first time in the episode — who has just lost his hero status.  Mr. Rose tells Iggy he is welcome to look at his car any time; he might even have some odd jobs for him.  Mr. Rose pulls a bill from his pocket and tells Iggy to have some fun.

As they are walking home, Iggy shows Clete that Mr. Rose gave him a $10 bill.  Clete says that’s a lot of money and “you better give that to your old man or he’ll really jump on you.”  Iggy, crushed by his father’s failure says, “You know what I’ll do if my father tries anything?  I’ll tell Mr. Rose on him, that’s what! You’ll see!”  Iggy repeats “You’ll see!” as he runs down the block past several brownstones while the camera rises high above the street — one of AHP’s best shots (picture at bottom).

35 years later, grown up Clete thinks to himself, “In each lifetime there is one day of destiny.  It may be a day of which none of us is aware at the time.  35 years ago, fate squeezed the trigger.  The bullet has been waiting in time ever since.  Today it struck, but that day long ago when Iggy and I were boys, was the day of the bullet.”

The episode was not what I expect from AHP.  When I say that same thing about TZ, it usually indicates a failure.  AHP, however, gave me something I was not expecting, and delivered an amazing episode.  It is so good, that the sole weakness is easily identified:  Clete’s delivery in the bookend scenes is so lifeless that it drains the emotion out of the words.

Enough with the negativity.  AHP moves all the pieces just right.  Iggy’s loss of innocence is heart-breaking.  He looks up at his father and sees not a hero, not even just a man, but a coward.  His father is crushed, knowing that he has let his son down, and lost his respect.  Probably less important to him, he has let himself down.  The other authority figures — the cops — might as well be pro-wrestling referees.

Above it all is Mr. Rose — always MR. Rose.  With the fancy car, and the fancy suit, he commands, if not respect, at least fear.  Here’s a guy who can get things done.  He is the only adult that has not sold out his principles (lousy as they might be), and is not sadly hanging his head in shame that day.  It is genius that AHP has Mr. Rose 1) be kind to Iggy at the end as a strong father-figure, 2) prime Iggy by putting a few bucks in his hand, then 3) mention that he has some odd jobs the kid could do.  Rather than just relying on Iggy’s loss of respect for his father to suggest his path to a life of crime, this provides a perfect 1-2-3 road-map for how he ended up dead.

Hollywood has had another 58 years of experience making TV shows since this was made.  How can so few have learned anything?

Other Stuff:

• ^[1] In a TV rarity, he even pays for the paper.  This show rules!
• ^[2] Point hardly worth mentioning:  The price tag is on the spindly putter shaft is right in front of 2 tennis rackets, so it appears he is looking at the rackets.  The putter is almost invisible.  This is even more distracting after the the word RACKETS appeared in the newspaper headline.
• Didn’t mention above, but 12 year old Barry Gordon IS the episode.  Even Mr. Rose can’t steal a scene from him.  He is a tiny — much shorter than Clete — ball of fire.  He talks fast and non-stop.  He has dreams.  He can make you laugh, make you sad, and could probably sell you a car.  Even a couple of times when he is yelling instead of acting, he is such a dynamo that it doesn’t interrupt the flow.  I guess that’s why he was on every old TV show in the history of television.
• Clete as a boy is played by Christopher Walken’s brother.  Wait, what?

Alfred Hitchcock straight-up murders a dude in the prologue.  So that’s new.

Captain Fisher is recalling one of the cases of his early career.  Milton Potter, the “tamest criminal” Fisher ever saw, was just paroled after doing 12 years for embezzlement.  He says, “Milton Potter had worked for Metro Investments since he got out of college — a total of 13 years.”  Since Potter is played by 56 year old Paul Hartman, it is safe to say he was not Dean’s List material. ^[1]  Fisher says he was making only $60/week and describes him as a quiet, friendless drone.

Milton does not show for work one day 12 years ago, and no one notices.  The second day, however, they notice because $200,000 is missing. ^[3]  Young Lt. Fisher is assigned to the case.  No one can describe anything about Potter, not even his eye color after 13 years.  He did seem to read a lot of travel magazines, though.

The next day Potter goes to the police station and gives himself up.  However he will not return the cash.  He goes to jail, does his time offscreen, and is paroled 12 years later.  Fisher — now the Captain — goes to see Potter.  He wants to remind him that even though he did the time, that doesn’t mean the money is his.  So Potter returns the money.  That paragraph took 13 minutes on the screen.

There is a nifty wrap-up that involves Potter finally getting to travel, and babes in high-heels playing shuffleboard.

Mostly, it was a lot of talking, though.  That’s not necessarily a bad thing.  Paul Hartman was believable as the mild-mannered, sad-sack Potter.  Wendell Holmes was a hoot as his blowhard boss.  The other performances were competent.  Despite a fine twist, this was more of a character piece than we usually get from AHP.

Warning to anyone attempting to duplicate Potter’s scheme:  Putting $200,000 in the bank for 12 years nowadays would leave you with about $200,005.

Potter is the guy on the left, but really, who cares?

Other Stuff:

• ^[1] Actually, the character is said to be 34 ^[2] at the time of the crime, thus 46 for half of the episode.  F***ing actors, man!
• ^[2] So he graduated at 21 — a genius!
• ^[3] When another office drone comes in to report the embezzlement to company VP Halverson, he stutters.  Halverson ^[4] demands, “What is it, Newton?  Out with it — I don’t have all day!”  I love the way old shows have the boss barking at employees and calling them by their last name.  Did that really happen?
• ^[4] It bugs me when a show has a son with the same name as his father; or characters with similar names.  It is just pointlessly confusing.  Here, we have  Halverson and Harv Ellison which, if you’ve had a few drinks, sound pretty similar.
• AHP Deathwatch:  One survivor; although at 97, I wonder if IMDb missed a phone call.
• Title Analysis: Potter says he turned himself in because he is not the running type.  Also not the running type: Alfred Hitchcock.
• This would have been a rare non-murder AHP if not for Hitchcock’s opening shot.

Marie Jensen, like Rhona Warwick in NG’s The Caterpillar, is a beautiful woman living in a remote jungle outpost with her husband. ^[1] Also like Rhona, she seems perfectly content with this isolated life and loves her husband.  No, wait, she stabs him in bed within the first 10 seconds.

Luckily, handyman Luiz is there to pull her off.  He holds a knife to Marie’s throat, but her husband Jeff stops him.  Jeff’s partner Mike comes in.  He suggests that Marie is suffering from “the fever.”  While Luiz dresses Jeff’s wound, Mike takes Marie back to her room and ties her to the bed.  So do Marie and Jeff have separate rooms?  None of my business.

Jeff goes to see her.  She is bound with her arms tied to the headboard.  She says she doesn’t remember what she did to deserve such treatment.  Jeff unties her and calls their servant Chita in to sit with her.  Marie laughs at him and rolls over.

Jeff asks Mike to take Marie 200 miles upriver to a doctor.  Mike reminds him that he warned Jeff not to marry her.  When Mike suggests that Marie might not come back, Jeff says, “I know what you think of her, and I know what she was.  But I pulled her out of that place and I married her.”

F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Game.

Mike says he hates her, but somehow that devolves into them having a long kiss.  This is accompanied by a grotesque melodramatic orchestral flourish that is unworthy of AHP.  She then gets dressed in some snappy safari-wear and goes to Jeff’s room.  He is also down with fever.  She claims to remember nothing, but agrees to go to the doctor.

Luiz, Mike and Marie take off in a very small boat.  After a while, Luiz pulls over to the side of the river to scout a place to spend the night.  While he is gone, Marie says they can kill him here.  Mike prefers to just lose him in the city.  The next morning, after Marie eggs him on, Mike tries to kill Luiz, but Luiz stabs him.  Though out-of-frame, the knife visibly lands to the side of Mike.  I still have to give them credit, Luiz’s knife would have landed squarely in Mike’s melon.   Luiz chases Marie back to the boat.  More kudos are due for the knife darkened by Mike’s blood.  He forces her back in the boat to “do what master want.”

Later returns to the outpost.  He says bad things happened.  “Senor Mike dead.  He tried kill me, so I kill him.”  Luiz says Mike was mislead by “bad woman.”  He says, “I do what you ask.  I take her to my people.  Best headshrinkers in the world.”  And pulls out the shrunken head of Marie.

R-r-r-r-r-right.  I have no problem with an episode that hinges on a one-word pun.  Really.  The episode was based on a story by Robert Bloch ^[2] who, among many great accomplishments, wrote the novel Psycho was based on.  The teleplay was by a guy with a thousand other credits.  Who am I to criticize?  Nobody, that’s who.  Walking erect is about all I have in common with these titans.  Still . . . it’s a little thin.

I get that calling a psychiatrist a headshrinker might be a colloquial term not ever used in the Amazon; also not ever used in the Amazon: colloquial.  However, Luiz was never in a scene where he heard that word spoken.  And Jeff still loved Marie — inexplicably, sure — so why would Luiz think he intended for her to be killed?  However, the reveal is fun, and who doesn’t like a little head?

Other Stuff:

• ^[1]  In fact, the Amazonian outpost is so far out that they can hear the Kookaburras from Australia.
• ^[2] Robert Bloch would do the shrunken head thing again 11 years later in Logoda’s Heads on Night Gallery.  It was so uninteresting that it didn’t rate its own post.
• AHP Deathwatch:  There must have been something in the water down there.  All three of the leads are in their 90s and still alive.
• OK, the F. Scott Fitzgerald thing makes no sense.  I couldn’t think of another way to reference Gerald’s Game.  Edmund Fitzgerald’s Game?  Gerald Ford?