It wasn’t a dream, Auntie Em, I was there!  It was a real AHP episode called The Little Man Who Was There.  This strange fellow dressed in black came into an old west bar and started doing tricks just like in TLMWWT.  Then he started turning folks against each other just like in TLMWWT.  But it wasn’t a dream!  Arch Johnson was there, and Roscoe Ates, and Clegg Hoytt, just like in TLMWWT.  Maybe this episode is even set in Kansas, who can tell these shitkicker frontier towns apart?

Tony Lorca strolls into the saloon whistling a jaunty tune.  All eyes are conspicuously on him.  He tries to break the ice by asking how they like the weather.  Unfortunately, it is as icy outside as it is inside and they don’t cotton to this stranger’s glib comments when they have crops and cattle freezing.  AHP fans know it does not pay to piss off someone with a corral full of frozen lamb-chops.

He says he just came in over the North Trail.  Bart McCormick is quick to point out that such a passage is impossible during winter.  Lorca asks if it really matters he got to “their miserable little shit-hole metropolis.”  This devolves to a gunfight.  But when McCormick reaches for his pistol, he discovers that Lorca has stolen it from him.  This feat so amuses McCormick, that he takes a liking to Lorca.

Lorca meets eyes with Shasta Cooney across the bar.  He regrets that he has no more cash to buy the widow a drink.  She buys him a small beer and one pretzel.  But then he pours the beer down her back. The widow Cooney storms upstairs.  Lorca remains in the bar; for a second, it looked like he was going to Mount Shasta — heyyyoooo!

Lorca puts up his pistol to get in a poker game with the gang.  In no time, he has lost everything.  One of the locals IDs him as Tony Lorca aka The Whistling Kid.  They read off a long list of crimes on his wanted poster.  The Widow Cooney comes downstairs just in time to hear his true identity and says he is also the man who killed her husband.

On this very clever series, they come up with one of their most original twists.  Lorca has been caught and once the snow clears, someone is going to turn him in for the cash.  The next turn of events is so great I’m not going to spoil it because, paradoxically, it just didn’t work for me.  I can’t figure out why.  It is a great, original idea, the execution was fine, the performers are mostly great, and there is a funny escalation of the idea.  Maybe I’m having a bad day; I don’t want to spoil anyone else’s fun.

The episode is not flawless.  The anachronistic score might be the worst I’ve heard outside of the 1980’s Twilight Zone.  Shasta just isn’t particularly attractive or interesting, not even achieving Fanta levels.  However, Arch Johnson is a hoot, and Ricardo Montalban is awesome as Lorca.  In the 2nd twist, the Sheriff even says of him, “He’s not a man of violence.  He’s more of a CONNNNNNNN man!”

I guess what I’m trying to say is you can search all over for happiness but there is really no need to look any further than your own front door.

Spinster Miss Lowen is playing solitaire with all her friends when the doorbells rings.  How exciting, it is the winner of the 1960 Emmy for Worst Casting in a Drama or Limited Series, Stanley Adams!  Tonight, Mr. Adams is playing the role of Detective Berger.  Although an interesting character, this big, fat guy never once struck me as being a real police detective.^[1]  He was more like a Peter Lorre character who wandered onto the wrong soundstage in search of a better buffet.  Nevertheless, he and Miss Lowen did take a very talky first act and make it fly by.

Like every man Miss Lowen meets, he is looking for a younger woman.  In this case. Detective Berger is looking for Margie, who Miss Lowen tells him is her niece.  She says Margie has lived with her since her parents died, but she is away with friends this week.  Berger explains that Margie has been corresponding with a lifer named

Margie is a cutie, but what a Rod tease! This is what you send a guy in prison? You couldn’t find a berka?

Rod “The Rod” Collins at the State Penitentiary.  They connected through a Pen Pal club ad in a romance magazine.  Berger even has a picture of Margie that he found in Collins’ cell covering the hole he escaped through.  Margie used a PO Box so her aunt did not see the letters, but Detective Berger got her address from the club.

He gives Miss Lowe one of the letters to read.  It is romantic, poetic, and chaste as you would expect on 1960’s TV.  Margie expresses the desire for them to somehow be together.  Berger says that is the problem — Collins has broken out of prison and the convicted killer will likely come here looking for Margie tonight!

So Detective Berger gives her his card and leaves.

Miss Lowe’s next scene is a great clue as to what is going on.  It is subtle enough that it might not register on the first viewing, but you appreciate the subtlety once you know the outcome.  In fact that is true throughout the first act, so kudos to actress Katherine Squire.

Sure enough, minutes later, Rod Collins climbs through Miss Lowe’s window.  And he does so with a ferocity and orchestral stinger that, when combined with her scream, is pretty chilling.  But wait, since the letters were going to a PO Box, how did Collins even know the address?

Not being The Blindman of Alcatraz, Collins can see immediately that this is not Margie unless that picture was taken by Mathew Brady.  She did mention her Aunt in the letters though, so he knows for sure who he’s dealing with, yessiree.  She tells Collins that Margie is away for the weekend, and that there is no use in waiting here for her here.  You know, other than being in the air conditioning, having a hot shower, being off the public streets, having clean sheets, watching TV, and where three square meals will be prepared for him; so, really, a lot like prison (i.e. my retirement plan).

He demands food which Miss Lowe provides.  He drinks the milk straight from the bottle; and that’s in addition to being a murderer.  She does not risk spoiling the ruse by offering him the leftover catfish.  He tells her that he is in love with Margie and that Margie loves him.  Miss Lowe says that can’t be true; that Margie is just a child.  Collins says she could never understand their love and harshly calls her a “dried up old crab.”  Well, the actress is no spring chicken at 57 years old.  On the other hand, Lori Loughlin is 55.  Of course, after 2 years in the slam, maybe she will look like Miss Lowe. ^[2] 

Collins says he has been in prison for 9 years, since he was 18.  The loneliness was crushing him until he began getting letters from Margie.  Miss Lowe says Margie was probably just being kind.  She says he can’t ask Margie to flee the country with him and constantly be worrying about the law.  Collins grabs her and says she better find a way to contact Margie.

Miss Lowe admits she knows the phone number and calls her.  She has cleverly called Detective Berger though.  Who knew Miss Lowe was capable of such deception?  Collins catches on, though.  He grabs the phone, but she brains him with a candelabra.  If she were Jewish, he’d be dead.  He awakens after the police arrive.  They bandage him up and haul him away.

The twist is revealed as Miss Lowe sits down and writes another letter to Collins.  Writing as Margie, she says she has a confession, but it is not the one you expect.  She weepily pulls out a glamor shot that Collins had sent her.  Since he has been in prison for 9 years, I don’t know where it would have come from.

Not a classic, but I liked it more than Jack at bare*bones; maybe because he was able to see how much better it could have been.  In fact, in a first, he prefers the 1980s remake (sadly, the link is broken).  I also like how he saw that Miss Lowe not only projected Margie onto herself; she also projected herself onto Margie.  Cool.

Other Stuff:

• [1] Seven years later, he would be perfectly cast as a seller of Certified Pre-Owned Tribbles on Star Trek.  Also notable as an anthropomorphic carrot on Lost in Space (1968).
• Great, now I can’t get Mellow Yellow out of my head — with 7 syllables, anthropomorphic carrot would have made a great stanza-opener.  Maybe in between Electrical Banana and I’m Just Mad about Fourteen.  Wait, what?  How did I never notice that?
• [2] Pffft, rich and beautiful.  She will never do any real time.
• AHP Deathwatch:  Clu Gulager (Rod) is still doing life.
• 3rd consecutive episode without a murder.
• Ha!  Pen Pal = Penitentiary Pal!  I just got that.

I find this inexplicably hilarious

Mr. Blake zips out of his office and says goodnight to his secretary, although why he is leaving this doll there to work after he skates is left unanswered.  He rides the elevator down which, given his haste, is probably the express.

In the lobby, a frumpy woman asks to talk to him.  Surprisingly, he does acknowledge her by tipping his hat, but silently hustles right out the door.  The woman follows him down the sidewalk.  She is swimming against all the tides — the wind is blowing against her, everyone in New York seems to be heading the other direction on the sidewalk, and Blake is figuratively pushing against her desire to speak to him.

He spots the woman tailing him in a coffee-shop window, at a frankly impossible angle BTW.  He picks up the pace even more to avoid this dame.  He sees sanctuary around the corner where there is a bar with a neon sign NO WOMEN ADMITTED.  And also, although the sign does not mention it, apparently hats are required and she is hatless.  I mean, the number of hats in this place is unbelievable.  I know men used to wear hats, but didn’t they take them off indoors?  He stays for only one drink, does not see the woman peering in the window, and leaves.

Unfortunately, she corners him on the train and sits beside him.  He recognizes her as his former employee Miss Dent, but she is sick, depressed, and unemployed.  When Blake tries to move to the next car, she pulls a gun on him.  Sensing a flashback, I’m not feeling so well myself.  It seems like only a trimester ago . . .

Miss Dent is happy at her job as Blake’s secretary.  After they work late one night arranging the Pensky File, Blake suggests that they have dinner.  Afterward, he walks her home to her brownstone located conveniently near the train station.  She invites him up for a drink.  She makes frequent references to her loneliness, but a gal that open to a last-second, late night dinner, and going straight back to her food-less place with no room-mate for straight liquor ought to be pretty popular.  Soon enough, while playing some stock, white-people jazz LPs, they are kissing.  Cut to the next day.

Blake breezes through the door in his usual brisk gait and barely acknowledges Miss Dent.  Miss Dent says Mr. Johnson is waiting in his office and is crushed by his ignoring her after their night of passion.  Wow, she really doesn’t get around much.

Isn’t this kinda how both of them got into trouble?

The two men talk, and Johnson comes out to speak to her.  He says she is being let go due to her poor performance; presumably on the job, not last night.  She will get 2 weeks severance and any unmarked lunches in the break-room refrigerator.  She bolts into Blake’s office but he is no longer there.  The only signs of his departure are a swinging coat hanger and an executive-shaped hole in the door.

Back in the present, 3 months later, Miss Dent tells Blake that she would not have told his wife.  Actually, if he was afraid she would tell his wife, he would be more likely to give her a raise than fire her.  She says, “I know what you’re thinking.  You’re thinking I’m crazy.  And it’s true.  I have been very sick.  But I’m going to be better.  It’s going to make me much better to talk to you.  I was in the hospital for eight months before I came to work for you.  I thought I was alright, but since you fired me, I’ve gotten all confused.  But I’m not afraid to kill you because I don’t care what happens to myself.”

Well, this is a downer.  Miss Dent really is in pain.  This isn’t the usual merry murder mix-ups and homicidal hijinks that we usually get on AHP.  She really is melting down due to her loneliness, depression, and that scotch probably isn’t helping.  This is more of a pure character study than I remember on AHP before.  Because Phyllis Thaxter pulls it off so magnificently, I felt more like I was watching a play or one of the drama anthologies from the 1950s.  The last 10 minutes are almost an interrupted monologue by Thaxter.

Miss Dent leads Blake at gunpoint off the train and down the dark tracks.  There is no big twist or conclusion.  She says what she needs to say and walks off into the dark.

Not your usual AHP offering, especially in the 2nd half, but another great episode of the type no one knows how to make anymore.

Other Stuff:

• Based on a short story by John Cheever who I kinda made fun of last week.
• 24 references:  1) Miss Dent standing behind Blake with a gun to his head in a train yard like Jack Bauer did to Ryan Chappell.  2) Blake often had an uncanny resemblance to President  Logan.  Man, having that series in constant rotation for 10 years is getting to me.
• Thanks to Jack at Bare*Bones for helping me appreciate the episode.  His background on the source material and insights on the episode filled in some important gaps for me.
• This is the 2nd consecutive AHP with no murder.  Let’s not forget why we’re here, fellas.

This is one of those episodes that makes me wonder how much TV from 50 years ago reflected reality and how much was a whitewashing — literally and figuratively — of the world.

It is 5 days until Camp Lakeside opens and the owner Mr. Stern is working his staff like a slavedriver except they are white, getting paid, not being beaten, and allowed to read and marry.  When ceramics teacher Bernie Samuelson shows up, it is clear they are old friends.

Stern points out Lefty James down by the lake painting the diving platform.  In a bizarre scene, Stern loudly yells to Lefty, “SAY HELLO TO TO BERNIE SAMUELSON . . . SAM–UEL–SON . . . CER–AM–ICS!”  The freakishly buff Lefty is holding a can of paint in one hand and waves with the other still holding a paintbrush.  Stern admiringly says Lefty was once in a Tarzan movie and they watch as he does a swan dive into the lake.  Why the long-distance introduction?  Why the over-enunciated yelling?  Why the, frankly, homo-erotic shot of Lefty?  Why the sudden dive when he was painting one second before?  Did he seal the can?  Did he wash the brushes?  Did he eat in the last 30 minutes?

Stern says he knows Bernie’s background as a sculptor and “I think you will agree that ceramics have taken a large step forward here at Camp Lakeside.”  Stern’s goal is for the kids to produce something to show the parents.

On Bernie’s first day with the kids — and WTF was he doing for the interim 5 days? — his bunch of young boys are not paying attention as he demonstrates a pottery wheel.  In another sign of how times have changed, it seems a little creepy that 1) he is 10 years older than you expect in a camp counselor, 2) he puts hands on their shoulders as he steers each to his chair, and 3) he explains that camp policy is for the boys to call him Uncle Bernie.  There is no hint of anything amiss.  As I said, just a sad sign of our cynical times.

On the boys’ first day, they mold clay into such challenging shapes as a snake, a pancake, an ashtray, and a fabulous sculpture of a man, made by the titular Aaron Gold.  Over the next few days, Aaron skips some of the other camp activities to seriously work on his sculpture.  Bernie is impressed with Aaron’s attitude and skill, although the figure is still deficient in arms to the tune of one.

Stern is not seeing the value in Aaron’s sculpture.  He says by Parent’s Day, Bernie and Aaron better have something to show and it better have an even number of arms.  Aaron says his father will not care if he only has one sculpture as long as it is beautiful.  And it will take as long as it takes.

That night, Stern comes by to inspect the ceramics projects.  Half of them seem to be ashtrays.  What did campers make when people stopped smoking?  Maybe that’s why there aren’t many camps any more.  Then maybe that lack of socialization, outdoor activities and discipline led to the disgraceful millennial generation.  I might pick up a carton of Luckys tonight just to get the US back on track.

Stern is critical of Aaron.  He has only an unfinished sculpture to show for Parent’s Day.  He did not earn the Intermediate Dolphin Swimming Badge, the Woodcraft Badge or a Softball Stripe.  Since Aaron’s father owns a chain of grocery stores, Stern wants to keep him happy.  He orders Bernie to put an arm on Aaron’s sculpture.

The next morning, Aaron is crushed to see that Bernie has added an arm holding a sword to the figure.  It is obvious why when his father shows up and HE IS AN MONSTER!!!  At least, that’s how it feels.  Mr. Gold arrives at the Ceramics Tent and the camera zooms in on the right sleeve of his jacket which is neatly folded, pinned to his shoulder and empty as a Bill & Hillary 2020 Speaking Tour.  Not only does the camera zoom in, but the shot freezes, and the orchestra swells.  Buster Bluth was treated with more respect.

Barry Gordon, who was so good in The Day of the Bullet, turns in another fantastic performance as Aaron.  He carved out a too-brief, two-episode AHP niche as the bestest, most loving son a father could ever have.  In his previous appearance, his father let him down and he was crushed.  Even though this episode ended abruptly, it was clear that their beautiful father-son bond would survive this awkwardness.  I could imagine his old man graciously accepting Bernie’s apology, loving the sculpture, grabbing a burger at the cookout, tossing some horseshoes, and rowing round and round in circles on the lake.

Other Stuff:

• Based on a short story by Philip “yes, that Philip Roth” Roth.  That stunned me even more than the famous John Cheever episode of Mama’s Family.
• Bernie was played by big-shot director Sydney Pollack who directed some great films, some good films, and Out of Africa.
• In an episode where the twist is a man with one arm, they have a 2-armed character named Lefty?  That’s just cruel.

Well, AHP wastes no time in establishing lumber yard manager Harry Wade as a prick.  First, they cast Walter Matthau who, while always entertaining, is typically an obnoxious jerk or know-it-all blowhard.  In comedies, he really shows his range by being a drunken loser or a bum.  However, imagine Jack Black or Seth Rogan in any role that Walter Matthau ever played and you will have a perfect illustration of how Hollywood has gone to shit. ^[1]

Within seconds we see him pawning some inferior wood off on a customer.  He is probably also pawning off some inferior wood on his girlfriend Helen who he treats like dirt.  He grudgingly takes her out to dinner.

After dinner, Harry drops Helen off.  She asks him to come in “just this once.”  He says he has things to do.  His excuse is that he doesn’t want to deal with that “meatball brother” of hers.  She asks if she can see him tomorrow night which makes me wonder if there is one other straight, single man in that town.  As if this would be a huge imposition, he says, “Maybe.”

Helen, the latest in a long line of AHP women who live with their brother, goes inside.  Her brother John says he plans on marrying his girlfriend in August.  This will leave Helen homeless.  The happy couple goes out again the next night.

And so it goes.  There are just too many moving parts to labor through.  Here are the other bullet points I jotted down:

• Wood / Erection pun.
• Harry needs $8k for only 24 hours like a Nigerian prince.
• Wood / Erection pun.
• Harry shows up at Helen’s office drunk.
• Wood / Erection pun.
• Helen steals money from her employer.
• Wood / Erection pun.
• Harry can’t repay the loan.
• Wood / Erection pun.

It’s a fine story and Matthau is always fun to watch.  Helen was kind of a drag and her brother was a non-entity.

Other Stuff:

• [1] I know I saw Billy Bob Thornton in the Bad News Bears reboot, but I don’t remember if I liked it.  He is one of the few genuine bright spots in Hollywood though, so even if he did it for the cash, it would be at least watchable.
• So what was the moral theft?  The money Harry swindled the mob out of?  If it were really moral, he would have returned it to the innocent shop-owners who coughed up protection money, anonymously with no-strings-attached.  Or let the exploited prostitutes work it off.