Father Knows Best (1954–1960): Season 1, Episode 24 - Father Delivers the Papers - full transcript

Robert Young... and Jane Wyatt.

With Elinor Donahue,

Billy Gray, and Lauren Chapin...

If I was you, stranger,

I'd pack up my
valise and head out.

We don't like no meddling
around Abilene Town.

Maybe I like it here.

Maybe I'm aiming
on settling down here.

Does this change your
mind any, stranger?

Oh, good evening.
Are you Mr. Anderson?

Yes.



Well, I'm Mr. Collins

of the Springfield
Star and News...

I'm sorry, Mr. Collins. We
already subscribe to the Star.

No, you don't understand,
I'm not a solicitor.

I'm a route manager.

I'm in charge of the
Star News carriers,

and your son Bud's
one of the boys

who delivers in my territory.

At least he used to.

What do you mean
used to? He still does.

That's what I want
to talk to you about.

See those?

All route complaints.

Now this is more than we
can brook, Mr. Anderson.



Well, Mr. Collins, if this
is Bud's responsibility,

we'd better get it
straightened out pronto.

Come in, won't you?

Thank you.

Bud.

Yeah.

Oh, no.

No, don't call him.

I'd like to talk to you first
privately if you don't mind.

No! I don't mind.

We can talk in there.

Thank you.

Now, what's he been doing wrong?

Well, there are quite a
variety of complaints here.

Throwing on roof.

Throwing on water sprinkler.

No paper at all.

No paper.

Failure to porch it.

Now this is one of
his major complaints.

He just will not porch it.

That means to throw the paper...

I know what it means.

Well, I'm glad you do.

Because I want you to understand

why I'm taking Bud's
route away from him.

Taking his route away?

Why?

I can't afford to
lose customers.

I have a long list
of boys waiting.

Look, Mr. Collins,
do me a favor.

Give Bud another
chance, and I guarantee

there won't be
any more of these.

Well, now, that's easy to say.

No, this isn't just talk.

I believe in a man
standing on his own feet,

fighting a thing
through on his own.

This Bud will do.

I personally
guarantee the results.

Now, how about it, Mr. Collins.

Well, he's behind in
some of his collections, too.

That'll be taken care of.

Well, all right.

But if my phone starts
ringing again tomorrow night...

It won't.

Well, I hope not.

Now I like Bud
personally, you understand,

but business is business.

Good night, Mr. Anderson.

Good night.

Bud.

Yeah.

Bud!

Coming.

Bud, what do you have
to say about these?

Ah, they're swell, Dad.

Will you stop looking at
that box and pay attention?

This is what I'm talking about.

Uh-oh.

Uh-oh is right.

What are we going
to do about these?

Well, I don't know, Dad.

I got the worst bunch
of squares on my route.

All they do is sit around

and try to think up
things to complain about.

Well, maybe you give
them reason to complain.

I'm sure it can't be as
bad as you make out.

But they are, Dad.

There's an old
lady that comes out

and draws a line on
the ground with her cane

where the paper
is supposed to land.

"You missed the mark, sonny."

Then she tells me to change it,

and when I do, she bawls me out

for walking on her grass
and stepping on her pansies.

Now, Bud, that's
just plain ridiculous.

No, Dad, it's the truth.

There's another guy.

Every time I try
and collect from him,

he just wants to argue
about how dumb the paper is,

and then tells me to come
back next Saturday or something.

Maybe your approach is wrong.

Evidently something
is wrong somewhere

because Mr. Collins wants to
take your route away from you.

Yeah, well, I guess that's best.

What?

Darn route's getting
too big anyway.

I'm late for dinner every night.

Bud, the quicker a boy
learns to rely upon himself,

the better off he is.

Now Mr. Collins is willing to
give you one more chance.

So are you going to make good?

I guess so.

You know so.

Okay, I know so.

Now can I leave?

I'm missing the whole show.

You're going to
miss the whole boat

if you're not careful.

No more of these.
You understand?

Oh.

There. I think you'll live.

Mom, when Dad
gets home with the car,

could you drive me so I can
finish up the rest of my route?

Well... I'm in pretty
bad shape, Mom.

Bud, you know how your father
feels about your paper route.

Right now, at any rate,

I think you chose the wrong
time to skin your elbow.

Gosh, Mom, it wouldn't
take but a few minutes.

Well, 45, maybe.

Check with your father
when he gets home,

but I doubt it very much.

Hello, dear. Hi, dear.

Bud... Say, Dad...

What about those
papers out there?

They're not delivered yet.

Well, I figured that out.

Could you drive me
on the rest of my route?

What?

Well, gosh, Dad, I really
ought to be in the hospital.

Look here.

What have you got
there, a little scratch?

Heck, no, that's
a genuine bruise.

You can't expect a
fellow to through papers

with a genuine bruise.

Why not?

Well, I can't even
straighten it out.

See?

You can't throw
papers like that.

I'll throw it like this.

See?

Oh.

I think you can handle it.

But, Dad.

Bud, when I was a little kid,
not more than 11 years old,

I had a job delivering
packages for a hardware store.

One day I had to deliver
a hammer and a bucksaw

to a farmer 4 miles
out in the country.

I had a nail in my shoe.

It pained me every
step of the way.

But I didn't quit until
the job was done.

Well, why didn't you
stop and take the nail out?

Well, I... You had a hammer.

Well, anyway, you
better get out on that route

before Mr. Collins starts
getting more complaints.

I guaranteed there
wouldn't be any tonight.

So on your feet, son.

Okay.

And make those collections, too.

Yeah.

Well, I just hope I don't
get my elbow infected

from the ink on the papers.

Oh, that kid.

He can think of more excuses.

Did he actually hurt his arm?

Oh, yes.

Well, he started
out on his route

and the bike
skidded and he fell.

Ow!

Jim, I did notice the paper bags

are getting awfully heavy.

Don't worry, he'll figure
out a way to handle it.

He'll be better off
for having done it.

Then maybe he'll
get over this habit

of trying to get out of
work by making excuses.

Oh, my back.

Now what?

Somebody pushed my
bike way over in a corner

and when I tried to get it,

that big, heavy
tent... Oh! My back!

Now, Bud, you tried
this once before.

Honest, Dad. I'm serious.

Better get a doctor.

By George, that's exactly
what I'm going to do.

By the time he gets
through strapping you up

so you can't breathe and
has you sleeping on a board...

Oh!

Hmm.

Boy.

Don't touch it, kid.

That's a strained sacroiliac.

Gee, I wish I could
get that sacro-lilac.

Is it catching?

Well, I'm certainly
glad the doctor said

it wasn't anything serious.

Yeah.

I was just thinking
about the paper route,

it has to be delivered.

You're right, Dad.
Remember what you said.

Neither rain, nor
snow, nor hail...

Bud, that's for the U.S. mail.

At least they're
delivering papers.

Don't they have any
substitute carriers?

They not only have substitutes,

they're waiting in
line to get Bud's job.

I hate to call Mr. Collins,

because I'm afraid this
is just the opportunity

he's been waiting for.

Bud, don't you know
somebody who knows the route?

Claude Messner or someone?

Claude's working
at the feed store.

Well, that route has got to
be carried tonight somehow.

I don't know exactly
how or by whom,

but after that big talk

I made at Collins
last night, it just...

Done.

Don't look at me.

I don't even know the route.

I've got the list.

Well, I... I'd ruin my clothes.

There's a sweatshirt hanging
in the garage and an old cap.

Honey, leave me
some dignity, will you?

The papers are all folded
and loaded on the bike.

Now, wait a minute,

I'm not going to ride a
bicycle down the street.

I'll take the car.

It'll never work.

Not one guy.

Better take the bike.

That's where I draw the line.

Where's your list of houses?

I'll get it.

You'll need his receipt
book, too, for the collections.

Dad?

Before you go... Yeah.

Would you mind
turning the couch around,

just a touch, so I
could see the TV set?

Sonny!

You missed the mark, sonny!

I said you missed the mark!

Yes, yes, ma'am, I'm coming.

Seems to me it's
little enough to ask

that one's paper be put
in a reasonable place.

I'm sorry.

Watch out! Watch out,
you're on the pansies!

And don't scuff the lawn.

Heavens, you boys.

Wait. You aren't
the regular boy.

No, ma'am, I'm not.

Aren't you a little old
for this type of work?

I'm the regular boy's father.

Well, couldn't you
find some kind of a job

that would pay
you a little better?

If you have a boy to support,

it seems to me that a strapping
young man like yourself...

Madam, I'm quite certain I
have another job lined up.

Good.

That's good.

Your paper, ma'am.

Watch out for the begonias!

Hi, Bud. How's your sacra-lilac?

Do you still got it?

Yup.

Hey, you know,
it's starting to rain.

So what?

Oh, dear, I wish he'd hurry.

Dinner's almost ready.

How much longer do
you think it will take him?

If he stops and tries to
collect from Old Man Crowder,

he ought to make
it by breakfast.

I tell you, I hate to even go up

and knock on that guys door.

I can't imagine what's
taking Dad so long.

He's been gone through a
Western, a Charley Chase,

and the Dempsey-Firpo fight.

I don't like the sound of
this weather, I'll tell you that.

I'll get it.

Oh, hello.

Good evening.

Won't... Won't you
come in, Mr. Collins?

Nasty night, huh?

Yes, isn't it?

I'd like to speak with
Mr. Anderson, please.

Well, he's not home just now.

He's out working on a big deal.

Well, when do you
expect him home?

Well, I... Could I
help you, Mr. Collins?

I don't know just when
Mr. Anderson will be home.

Well, it's about these.

Five more tonight.

Oh.

Now I wasn't
supposed to get any.

Bud was on trial
tonight, you might say.

Well, surely you can't
expect perfect service

in weather like this.

True. True.

But the point of it is,

all the other boys were finished

with their routes
before the storm hit.

Well, I know, but
Bud's route is...

Wait a minute, Mom.

It's all my fault, Mr. Collins.

Dad's doing my route for me.

Well, for goodness' sakes,
what happened to you?

He had an accident.

Strained sacroiliac.

Oh, my.

We had the doctor.

My heavens, why
didn't you let me know?

I'd have put on a substitute.

Well, Dad didn't
want to do that.

He guaranteed these
papers would be delivered.

That's why he's
doing it himself.

Oh, my.

In this weather? Tsk, tsk, tsk.

Why, he'll catch
his death of cold.

I'd better put somebody
on to help him.

Oh no, I wouldn't worry
about him, Mr. Collins.

He's a man who likes to
fight things through on his own.

Well, by George,
he must be a corker.

You know, I wish I
could instill that spirit

and that drive into the boys.

Are you gonna fire Bud?

Mr. Collins, if you just
give me another chance,

I'd do a lot better now.

A lot better, I'm sure of it.

How long are you
going to be laid up?

Well, I feel almost okay now.

Oh, but the doctor
said that he wasn't to do

any heavy work for
two or three days.

I'll put on a substitute,

let me know when
you feel okay again.

Oh dear, I hope Mr. Anderson

doesn't come down
with the grippe.

Well, I wouldn't
worry about him.

Well, good night. Good night.

Gee, I wonder if
Father really is all right.

Well, I know one
way to find out.

That you, Ruthie?

No, I'm sorry, it's not Ruthie.

I merely want to
deliver your paper

and ask you if I
may use your phone.

I haven't got a phone.
And what paper?

The Star News, of course!

That's odd.

I don't even subscribe to it.

Oh, well I probably
made another mistake,

in the rain and all.

I'm sorry.

Ruthie buys it once
in a while on Sundays.

Where do you suppose she's at?

I... uh, wouldn't know.

She went out

with that rattled-brained
Harold Scarab again.

I don't like that boy.

Mm-hmm.

Always worry when
she's out with him.

Yeah, well, if I see her,
I'll tell her to come home.

Good night.

Good night.

Going somewhere, sir?

I've been having a lot of
complaints on this route, son.

When we say porching,
we just mean the paper,

not the whole bag
and the bicycle.

Yes, sir.

Man, oh, man, am
I glad to see you.

Are you?

Yes, I believe you are.

That you, Ruthie?

No, Dad, it's not Ruthie.

You seem to have gotten
pretty well acquainted.

Who's Ruthie?

I don't know, Papa's
worried about her.

That, um, wouldn't
be coffee, would it?

It would indeed.

Oh, man.

Honey, you've never looked
more beautiful in your life.

Now wait a minute.

We've got to get you
into some dry clothes first.

I'm afraid it's too
late for... for that.

Well, we'll do what we can.

But first thing is to get you
out of that wet sweatshirt.

Okay.

Oh, honey, I've
had an awful night.

Just awful.

I know, dear. I know.

Inside out that sweatshirt,
it'll make a good towel.

Here, put this on.

Now dry yourself well, dear.

Maybe you won't
catch cold after all.

You only sneezed once.

Oh, this is a
miserable route, honey,

the worst in the world.

I'm beginning to understand now

what Bud was talking about.

There's one guy on
this... Now put this on.

You know, there's
one guy on this route...

Now put these on.

Honey.

Go on. Put them on.

You know what
wet feet do to you.

There's one fellow on this route

that holds me
personally responsible

for all the pigeons in the park.

Not only that...
Here, drink this.

It'll warm you up.

Yeah.

Oh, man.

Now, what about this
fellow on the route?

What fellow?

Oh, honey, you have no
idea how good you look to me,

standing there in the rain.

Just the greatest
thing in the world.

I felt so lonesome
and discouraged

and frustrated and wet.

How many more papers
do you have to deliver?

I don't know, the list got
so wet I couldn't read it.

I had to wring
it out every time.

Will you put the papers
in the car and I'll drive.

I guess we better
get going, too.

Before they start calling
Collins and complaining.

They've already
been complaining.

What?

He's been around with the slips,

but don't worry,
Bud talked to him.

Bud did?

I think that Bud is
going to be much better

at his job from now on.

Well, didn't they fire him?

No.

Mr. Collins has great
admiration for you.

He has?

So have I.

Boy, oh, boy.

What in the world
would I do without you?

Is that you, Ruthie?

Ruthie! Are you out there

with that rattle-brained
Harold Scarab again?

Yes! I am!

I beg your pardon.

Well, send him on his
way and come in here.

This is no night for you
to be sitting outdoors.

Do what your papa says.

Your papa knows best.

Papa knows best.

Now what in the world
ever put a fool idea

like that in his head?

Ah.

What do you want
to watch now, Dad?

Captain Planet or Riders
of Red Rock Canyon?

Don't you think we've had
enough adventure for a while?

Let's read for a change.

Margaret, Betty, will somebody
see if the paper's here?

It's here, Father,
but you should see it.

The boy threw it in a mud
puddle and it's a mess.

Shall I call our newspaper
office and complain?

No! No! Don't do that!

No more complaints
about the paper boy.

Now or ever.

Next time he comes
around, send him in, though.

I'll teach him how to porch it.

All right, Bud, tell Captain
Planet he can blast off.

♪♪

Closed-Captioned By J.R.
Media Services, Inc. Burbank, CA