The Wild Wild West (1965–1969): Season 1, Episode 12 - The Night of the Human Trigger - full transcript

After two Wyoming towns suffer devastating earthquakes, Jim and Artie travel to Sentinel, where fliers have circulated warning of the next quake. When that quake strikes as predicted, the agents realize that someone can create earthquakes whenever and wherever he wishes. They must discover who and how before the madman levels the Wyoming territory!

Paper, mister?

We carry 'em all.
Topeka, uh, Fort Worth...

No thank you, sir.

A magazine is
what I'm looking for.

The Western Traveler's
Gazette, please.

Oh. Oh, yes, sir.

Ha! I just happen to have one,

the last copy.

All I want is one, sir.

Thank you. Thank you.

Pardon me, sir.

Do you know where

the Samson and
Delilah Barbershop is?

Oh. Oh, yes, sir, it's...

It's right up at the
end of the street

on the other side.

Thank you.

Yeah, that's right,

an honest-to-goodness
lady barber.

Just like the other Delilah.

I was supposed to
meet a friend here.

Mr. Gordon?

Do you recognize that
name, Mr. Claymore?

You can sit down
and wait for him

if you have a mind to.

And while you're waiting,

I can give you a
first-class haircut.

Well, considering what
happened to Samson,

how 'bout just a
first-class shave?

That's enough,
Delilah, my pearl.

For our purposes...

this is sharp enough.

♪ Monday's child ♪

♪ Is fair of face ♪

♪ Tuesday's child
Is full of grace ♪

♪ Wednesday's
child Is full of woe ♪

♪ Thursday's child
Has far to go ♪

♪ Friday's child Works
hard for a living ♪

♪ Saturday's child
Is loving and giving ♪

♪ Sunday's child Is
bonny and brave ♪

Judge Fairlie.


In the name of heaven, help me.

Mister, when you settle
in to get some shuteye,

you don't fool around, do you?

What happened to Delilah?

Delilah? That's me, dearie.

You never mentioned it,

was your shave okay?

I have a feeling it
was a little close.

Oh. Uh, pardon me.

What happened to the newsstand

that was over there?


There was never a
newsstand there, mister.


I'm afraid you're gonna
have to settle for me, Jim.

Hey, Jeremy. How have you been?

Nice to see you.

Where's Artie?

He's on his way to
Washington right now, Jim.

They needed him there fast.

Oh, well, that's
just great, colonel.

You haven't heard the worst.

Don't tell me I'm gonna
get stuck with the likes of you

till Artie gets back.

Could turn out quite well, Jim.

You two have worked
together before,

and Jeremy Pike knows
the Rocky Mountain situation

better than any other agent.

Which is just as well,

because things have
started to break wide open.

We've been waiting for you, Jim.

The news has been coming
in hot and heavy over the wire.

And I assume that news is
Judge Fairlie's kidnapping.

How did you know?

I don't know, I
guess I had a dream.

"After presiding over
the Tenth Circuit District

"for 10 years,

"Judge Fairlie was
appointed to the court of claims

in January of last year."

Till he was kidnapped,
put in a fun house.

Whoever's behind it sets up

the most elaborate
plan I've ever seen.

Just so that you could have
firsthand evidence of it, huh?

Well, so it would seem.

I mean, the phony newsstand man

in a phony newspaper stand

sees to it that I get
a phony message

to meet Artie in a barbershop

run by a phony barber.

By the fetching name of Delilah.

That's delicious.

Now, Jim, we checked that out.

And the only fun house was
with the Continental Circus,

which was headed for
Fiddler's Bend at the time,

a good 20 miles from here.

And in the hour I was out,

there wasn't time
to transport me

from there back here.

Let me ask you something.

Does it say anything

about Fairlie taking
a trip in there?

As a matter of fact, it does.

He was getting ready
to go to Scotland

to represent the United States

at the upcoming jurisprudence
convention in Edinburgh.



Thursday's child has far to go.

So when my host waved that sign

in front of my face,

he was telling me about Fairlie.

Thursday's child has far to go.

Thursday's child.

Thursday's child.

Isn't that from that old rhyme,

"Monday's Child
Is Fair of Face"?


Well, now, Fairlie was
kidnapped on Thursday.

And he was heading for Scotland,

so he certainly had far to go.

I can't help wondering

if there's some
others tied in here too.

What others?

Well, now, this whole
operation is so wild

that if Judge Fairlie
is Thursday's child,

I have a sneaking feeling

that there are other
children involved here too.

Monday's child is fair of face.

Tuesday's child
is full of grace.

Wednesday's child is...

Monday's child. Could
that be Lynn Carstairs?

Lynn Carstairs, the actress.

Fair of face is hardly the word.

She's gorgeous.

And remember, Jim?

She disappeared from the stage

at The Haymarket last Monday.

It was easily the most
sensational curtain

Miss Carstairs ever made.

There she was,

taking one bow after another,

when out of nowhere,
this swan seat

is lowered down
loaded with flowers.

You don't know who
was operating it, huh?

I don't know from Adam.

I figured maybe Miss
Carstairs had arranged it.

Anyway, she's game.

She steps into the
swan seat and up it goes.

Big applause, I assume.

Brought down the house.

What an exit, huh?

Only when the swan
seat finally comes back,

no Carstairs.

And that was the
last seen of her.

Jim, whoever figured this out

is a first-rate artist.

I traced the route
of the kidnappers

up across the fly
gallery onto the roof

and then onto a
kind of an elevator

that they rigged to
lower her to the ground.

And look what else
I found on the roof.

It's brandy.

My nose tells me

it's a very special
kind of brandy.

Cognac de Grande Marguerite.

It's very interesting.

The head man was
up there sipping brandy.

While his underlings
are sweating out

the big operation.

Jerry, your theory is starting

to prove its point.

A series of child

Monday's child is fair of face.

Lynn Carstairs.

Tuesday's child
is full of grace.

Ivan Kalinkovitch,

first-rate ballet master,

called away from
rehearsal last Tuesday,

hasn't been seen since.

child is full of woe.

There's only one disappearance

on record on Wednesday:

the famous jockey Biff Trout.

Trailing the field
at Swanson Downs,

he goes into the backstretch.

He rides into a bank of smoke

that suddenly
appears mysteriously,

and the horse comes
out of it riderless.

No trace of Trout.

As I remember, Golden
Apple won that race,

paid off 16-to-1.

Great odds, but that incident

doesn't seem to
tie in with the others.

No woe in Biff's young life.

Happy-go-lucky jockey,

very successful with the horses

and with the ladies.

Man about town.

Why didn't I think of it?
Not unhappiness woe.

Certainly. Whoa!

That takes care of
Wednesday's child.

Now, Thursday's
child has far to go.

Judge Fairlie.

Of course, you know
that all this mumbo jumbo

is designed to bring us to
the next order of business.

Friday's child who
works hard for a living.

We're being spoon-fed
a clue at a time,

all of it leading us where?

Finding that out is where
the real fun comes in.

Jer, let's play along with them.

Where was that circus headed?

Um, Fiddler's Bend, wasn't it?

Well, I'm gonna check it out.

Cognac de Grande Marguerite.

I have a feeling that
out there somewhere,

there's a gentleman who
would be more than interested

in a newly-discovered
half dozen bottles

of Napoleon's exquisite brew.

One for you.

And one for me.

Ah, the lovely, adored

Miss Lynn Carstairs.

I trust you are well, madame.

And the incomparable
Ivan Petrovitch Kalinkovitch.

I hope we're not
interrupting a rehearsal.

Please, I cannot
endure confinement.

I... I must get out of here.


Bars shouldn't trouble

a great artist like
you, Ivan Petrovitch.

Dance your way out.

Biff Trout.

One part man, one part horse,

with a special stink

of stable and
corruption about him.

Oh, come on, doc.

As one jockey to another,

what have I ever done
for you to get mad at me?

You exist, do you not?

For the time being, let
that be reason enough.

And our newest and
most distinguished guest,

that pillar of the
federal bench,

Justice Alonzo Fairlie.

I give you welcome, sir.

You're mad, of course.

Observe the classical
magistrate's mind

at work, Delilah.

The good judge does
not understand me,

ergo I am mad.

Allow me to
introduce myself, sir.

I am Dr. Miguelito Loveless.

I plead guilty to
being dictatorial,

vain, short-tempered,
occasionally unreasonable,

and always, always
a helpless admirer

of all that is rare and fine

in nature and art.

But mad?

No, sir, that I will not permit.

What... What are you
going to do with us?

For the answer to that,

we will have to wait until
our other guests arrive.

Let's drink to that
happy moment.


Yeah, doc?

Behold that most
tragic of all sights:

an empty bottle

of Cognac de Grande Marguerite.

Yeah, and there
ain't no more, neither.

That's the last one.

Well, then get some more, Pylo.

Don't ask me where, just get it.

Yeah, sure, doc.

As I was saying, friends,

let us drink to that happy time

when all our guests are present.

Afternoon, ma'am.

Something I can help you with?

A terrible thing has happened.

This seat feels like
it's working loose.

Probably a bolt or
two sheared loose.

Could be a real danger.

Better let me have a look.

Funny. Don't seem
to be loose, ma'am.

What's this handle for?

I don't know,

I was hoping you could tell me.

So that's what happens
when you pull that handle.

Howdy, sheriff.

Howdy. Do something
to help you, mister?

Yes, sir. Name's James West.


I'd like to ask a few questions.

Oh, yeah.

Well, ask ahead, Mr. West.

Have any people
missing in this town?

No. Nobody's missing.

Fact is, nobody's left
town except Arnie Johnson.

Went to San
Francisco this morning.

You mean, there's no one
missing in Fiddler's Bend?

Are you sure of that?

Well, now, Mr. West,

there ain't enough folks

in this big, driving
metropolis of ours

that one can disappear

without it being a
seven-day wonder.

Oh, right.

Well, what about the
carnival that's due here?

When do you expect it?

Well, they should be
pulling in anytime now.

Out at the old, uh,
camp meeting grounds.

Well, thank you for
everything, sheriff.

You're welcome.

Sheriff, have you seen
Abbie in town this evening?

No, ma'am, Mrs.
Carter, I haven't.

Why, is something wrong?

He's been missing
since before noon.

Didn't even come
home for his dinner.

Missed his dinner?

Well, that sure doesn't
sound like Abbie.

I'll tell you what I'll do.

I'll get on it right away,
and I'll find him for you.

Don't you worry.

When you do, sheriff,

you tell him I'll be
waiting at home.

Excuse me, ma'am.
How does your...

How does your
husband make a living?

When he tends to his
work, he's a blacksmith.

Friday's child works
hard for a living.


You better list Mr. Carter
among the missing.

Now, friend, here's
a snappy number

that them high-living
customers of yours

are gonna go for
hook, line and sinker.

Cluny aperitif.

I might incline to
doubt that, mister.

Well, now, I'll tell you
what I'm gonna do, friend.

I'm gonna throw in a
bottle of absinthe liqueur

plus a bottle of Chablis

with every case of
champagne that you order,

and I can't say it
fairer than that, friend.

Foreigner, ain't you?

Hey, now, wait a minute.

Now, I'm as American
as Paddy's pig

born on a Fourth of July.

My ancestors fought in
the Revolutionary War

and a few more
before that, even.

Now, just 'cause I
deal in wines, liqueurs,

cordials, and cognacs

isn't a reason for you
to get so suspicious.

Yeah, sure. The
point I'm getting at,

my customers
wouldn't know aperitifs

or any of them
other fancy drinks

if it come right up
and bit 'em on the leg.

Well, then I take it that
I'm safe in assuming

that you wouldn't be interested

in Cognac de Grande Marguerite.

Well, maybe he ain't,

but I sure am.

You know, I've
been looking for you

ever since I read your
ad in the morning paper.

How much?

Well, friend, I don't
know if you're aware

of the fact that
this merchandise

is just a trifle on
the expensive side.

I said, how much?

Well, in American money,

there's a special for
this week only: $124.

So you see, it's a little...

It's okay.

Now, just hand it over.

Excuse me, friend,

but this bottle is the
only sample I got,

and I can't let you have it.

But if you'll just tell me

where I can deliver your bottle,

we'll have it over to your...

Okay, dude.

I said, hand it over.

Or I'm going to blow a hole
right through your derby.

Well, you do that,

and I'm liable to
drop this bottle.

And we'll both
be in big trouble.

No, don't do that.

Well, you tell me where I
can deliver the merchandise,

and you make it snappy, friend,

because I'm an old
butterfingers from way back.

Yeah, yeah. Uh...

Deliver it to the Wells
Fargo office in Denver, huh?

And make sure it
gets there by tomorrow.

It's as good as there.


Tomorrow, Saturday, Denver.



Who would you say

is Denver's most
loving and giving citizen?

Sounds like a description
of old Cyrus Barlow.

Exactly what I was thinking.

Cyrus Barlow.

Oh, lovely.

Simply lovely.


How splendid.

To forever remain

at the peak of your beauty.

Never to grow old,

wither away.

Mr. Barlow, sir?

Yes, Wallas?

You have a caller, sir.

Oh, no, no.

Not now.

Wallace, you know that
these new specimens

just arrived.

I'm very sorry, sir,

but he did say that
it was quite urgent.

Oh, well.


Let's see who it is.

Jeremy Pike,

United States Secret Service.

That's right, Mr. Barlow.


Well, well.

Mr. Pike.

What could the Secret Service

possibly want with me?

Well, sir, we have
every reason to believe

that someone is going to
make an attempt to kidnap you.

Ki... Kidnap me?

Mr. Pike, I...

I find that rather amusing.

Why in the world
would anybody want

to try to kidnap me?

Well, sir, it's a rather
long and complicated story.


This promises to be the
high spot in my morning.

It all started with a lady
barber named Delilah

and my partner Jim West.

Mr. Pike, I have great respect

for the United
States Secret Service,

but how you could possibly
jump to the conclusion

that I am Saturday's child?

But it's got to be, sir.

"Loving and giving."

Now, that describes your career

of giving away
all those millions.

Yes, but I'm an old...

No, no, no, no. Please, now.

Go along with me

and give me every
detail that you can

about your daily routine.

So confoundedly dull.

Not to anyone who's
bound and determined

to kidnap you, sir.

After breakfast, my
chairman of the board

and a gaggle of
directors barge in.

I have to spend an hour or so

pretending to listen to them.

Matter of fact, they
left just before you...

After your business conference,

what then?

Drive to the stockmen's club.

Oh, on the way, I, uh,

usually stop for a
flower at old Sadie's.

Flower lady. Heh, heh, heh.

And, uh, then maybe I
discuss a little politics

with Henry the shoeshine man.

Excuse me, sir. Your
carriage is waiting.


Mr. Barlow will be

15 minutes late this morning.

Yes, sir.

Mr. Barlow, how would you like

to devote the entire
day to your insects?

There you are, Mr. Barlow.

Better than new.

Fine job, my boy.

Fine job.

Thank you.

Mr. Barlow, the
next stop is always

Sadie's flower stand.


Good morning, Mr. Barlow.

Uh, what have you got
for me this morning, Sadie?

Sadie's got a cold, Mr. Barlow.

I'm filling in for her.

My, what a strange,

pungent smell this flower has.

It's rather heady.

Did I ever tell you
about Vernon Trimble?

Man 2: What did you
say his name was?


Why, Vernon Trimble.

I never heard of him.

Now can I tell you my
story about the two fleas?

Absolutely not.

Very well, since you press me.

Seems the two fleas

went to the theater one night,

and as they left,

one flea turned to
the other and said,

"Shall we walk or take a dog?"

I must tell you
about my friend West.

Why? What about him?

I went to his funeral
the other day.

There was no one there.

Yeah? How come?

He wanted to keep
it a secret service.

Hi, handsome.

How about buying
little Lila a drink?

I'd like to, Lila,
but not right now.

I'm not Lila, she is.

Tell me, Tiny, when
is a door not a door?

I don't know, Homer.
When is a door not a door?

Why, when it's ajar, of course.

Tell me, Homer,

when is a ventriloquist's dummy
not a ventriloquist's dummy?

When it's
Dr. Loveless, of course.

You've outdone yourself
this time, Dr. Loveless.

I thank you, Mr. West.


No, no, my dear.

unconscious, that's all.

Well, why not polish him off?

Why not, indeed?

Why not throw away the third act

of Don Giovanni?

Why not slice the Mona
Lisa into half a dozen sections,

chip the Koh-i-noor diamond
into a dozen inferior stones?


My pearl.

There is an exquisitely correct

time and place for everything,

and Mr. West's time and place

are firmly fixed in my mind.

♪ What shall we do
With a drunken sailor? ♪

♪ What shall we do
With a drunken sailor? ♪

♪ What shall we do
With a drunken sailor ♪

♪ Early in the morning? ♪

♪ Put him in the
longboat Till he's sober ♪

♪ Put him in the
longboat Till he's sober ♪

♪ Put him in the
longboat Till he's sober ♪

♪ Early in the morning ♪

♪ Heave-ho and up she rises ♪

♪ Heave-ho and up she rises ♪

♪ Heave-ho and up she rises ♪

♪ Early in the morning ♪

♪ What shall we do
With a drunken sailor? ♪

♪ What shall we do
With a drunken sailor? ♪

♪ What shall we do
With a drunken sailor ♪

♪ Early in the morning? ♪

♪ Pull out the plug
And wet him all over ♪

♪ Pull out the plug
And wet him all over ♪

♪ Pull out the plug
And wet him all over ♪

♪ Early in the morning ♪

I'd like a ticket, please.

Sorry, neighbor. No
performance tonight.

Well, I'll, uh...

I'll take a ticket anyway.


Thank you.

This way, please.

Thank you.


At long last, you are here.

Of course, Mr. West,

there is something

of the salmon in you.

The fiercer, the more impossible

the cataracts that face you,

the more furiously
you swim through them

to win your goal.

All right, Loveless,
what's it all about?

A very simple plan,
Mr. West. It's called retribution.

Punishment, if you please,

for all those who have
incurred my wrath.

In short, a trial.

With you being judge, jury,

prosecutor and
executioner, right?

No, not at all.

I am prosecutor, that's true.

But they are the executioners.

Here we have the learned judge.

What about the jury?

Oh, the finest that
money can buy.

Twelve good men.

A typical jury.

Now, let the first witness
approach the bar of judgment.

Miss Lynn Carstairs.

I had a friend,

an earnest young protégé,
whom I sent to you for help

in establishing
her as an actress.

What was your answer?

Oh, please, if I had only known.

You sneered at her, didn't you?

You called her
graceless, a scullery maid.

Jury, what say you?

The death penalty.

So ordered.

Ivan Petrovitch Kalinkovitch,

to the bar of justice.

Listen, doctor, I did not know

it was your ballet.

I will gladly admit
to the whole world

that you were the
composer, not I.

Jury, what is the
fitting punishment

for one who pirates
another's creation?

The supreme penalty? So ordered.

Justice Alonzo Fairlie.

The death sentence
comes very easily

to your lips, doesn't it?

When the facts warrant it, yes.


It wasn't facts you
ordered executed,

it was a dear friend.

And for that... Jury?

The jury finds that the facts

now warrant your death.

So ordered.

Biff Trout,

the peerless and
incomparable rider of horses.

Tell the jury what
is the worst crime

a jockey can commit.

Look, doc, so I threw a race?

I'll make it up to you, honest.

You preposterous fool.

It's not the $100,000
you robbed me of,

it's the principle of
uncorrupted sport.


Disbarred from further
participation in life.

So ordered.

The case of Abbie Carter.

What did I ever do to you?

You made the mistake
of being a foreman

on Judge Fairlie's jury.

You were the stouthearted one

who held out for
the guilty verdict,

weren't you?


I hope your affairs
are in order, Mr. Carter.

What about Saturday and Sunday?

You seem to have run
out of enemies, Loveless.

That's too bad.

Think so, huh?

Saturday's child
is loving and giving.

Cyrus Barlow.

Who's the head man around here?

Blame me for taking you
away from your toys, sir.

My what?

You spend your
days collecting insects

and giving away millions.

Certainly a rich man's
eccentric playthings.

I see.

And for committing these
unpardonable crimes?

You will be tried by
a jury of your peers.

Well, that's a
fine-looking set of jurors.

You have any objection

to my pleading my
own case before them?

Ladies and
gentlemen of the jury,

I've been accused
of being addicted

to collecting insects
and giving away millions,

and, uh, it's true.

They're both habits that
I can't seem to break.

Now, in collecting insects,

I've never made a
single blessed enemy.

As to the matter of
giving away my millions,

I've had nothing but trouble.

For instance,

you tell the jury,

what was it that I did

to offend you?

I appealed to you for financing

for my project to make
all men equal in stature,

and you laughed.

I did.

At a plan to increase the height

of little men like you?


A plan to shrink the
height of big men like you.

And for turning
down my project...

Of course.

Death is the only
possible verdict.

And now,

last but certainly not least,

Sunday's child is
bonny and brave.

Who would that be, Mr. West?

How many guesses do I have?

I'll give you a hint.

He's been a pebble in my shoe
for as long as I can remember,

with an irritating capacity

for upsetting my
most inspired plans.

A silver-winged fritillary.

Look at him.

In the shadow of death,

and he's still
collecting butterflies.



There will surely be

another time, gentlemen.

Surely another time.

Another time.

Another time.

Another time.

"And the local police
quickly rounded up

"the other members
of the Loveless gang

who managed to
escape, including Delilah."

You, uh, getting all this, Jim?

Oh, I haven't
missed a word, Jerry.

With the exception
of Dr. Loveless,

who made a surprise

riding on an elephant
with 42 dancing bears

and a chorus of swans singing
"Old Dog Tray" a cappella.



You know, I've been
thinking about poor old Artie,

subjected to the
perils of Washington.

What do you say we
have a drink in his honor?

I'll drink to that, Jim.

What do you say
we pour one for Artie?

Why not?

For Artie.

To absent friends. Salute.