Leave It to Beaver (1957–1963): Season 3, Episode 6 - Beaver Takes a Walk - full transcript
After June finds it among Ward's old possessions, Ward gives the boys an old pedometer that his father gave to him. Beaver is excited about using it, especially after Ward tells him that he will be amazed at how far he can walk each day. In what is obviously an exaggeration at least in Ward's mind, he tells the boys that he used to walk 20 miles a day to and from school. When Beaver shows his classmates the pedometer, he ends up betting Whitey his prized outfielder's mitt that he can walk 20 miles by the same time tomorrow since his father did it, and his father wouldn't lie to him. By the end of the afternoon, Beaver comes to the painful conclusion that he will walk nowhere close to 20 miles. A sulking Beaver, who doesn't want to talk about what is bothering him to his parents, is mad at the world not only for losing his mitt, but because he didn't measure up to his father. When Ward finds out, can he right things in Beaver's mind?
Starring...
and...
June?
- Hi, dear.
- Hi.
Oh, what's all this?
I cleaned out your desk today.
I'm throwing all this away.
Oh, wait a minute.
These keys look new. I think
we ought to hang on to them.
Dear, they belong to the
three padlocks we threw away
when we moved and
we couldn't find the keys.
- Remember?
- All right.
All right, throw them all away.
Oh, just a minute.
I'm not going to
throw this away.
Ward, that's just
an old broken watch.
It only has one hand.
June, this is not a watch.
This is my old pedometer.
What's a pedometer?
Well, you set it at zero
and put it in your pocket
and it tells you how
many miles you walked.
Is that good to know?
It sure was when I was a kid.
My father gave me this.
I used to take hikes,
check the distance to school.
In the summers I'd clock myself
back and forth
from the ice house.
Sounds a little
old-fashioned to me.
Well, it certainly isn't.
As a matter of fact,
I think I'll take this up
and give it to the boys.
I'll bet you they get just as
big a kick out of it as I did.
Well, while you're up there,
would you tell the boys
supper will be a little late?
Late?
Yes, I put the roast
in the oven at 4:00,
but, well, I pushed
the wrong button.
Spell New York.
N-E-W Y-O-R-K.
New Jersey.
J-E-R-S-E-Y.
New Mexico.
M-E-X-I-C-O.
Beaver, that's New Mexico.
How come you're
leaving off the News?
Oh, I know my fronts.
I just gotta learn my backs.
Wyoming.
Wyoming?
Yeah, I skipped to the bottom.
What did you do that for?
Wyoming doesn't
even have a new on it.
Look, Beaver, you...
Hi, fellas.
- Hi, Dad.
- Hi, Dad.
I'm just spelling my states.
Oh, fine.
Hey, look what I
have for you, boys.
Gee, a present.
What is it?
- Don't you know?
- No, sir.
How about you, Wally?
It looks like a busted watch.
Yeah, there's a hand missing.
No, boys, it's a pedometer.
- Oh.
- Oh.
Oh, yeah, I saw one of those
once in a Boy Scout handbook.
Tells you how far
you walk or something.
It sure does.
My father gave me
this when I was a boy.
I had a wonderful time with it.
You did?
What did you do, Dad?
Well, I put it on,
and then I walked to school
and to the ice house
and back and
forth to the library,
all over town and... and, uh...
Well, then I checked to
see how far I'd walked.
Oh.
I guess there wasn't much
to do in those days, huh, Dad?
Look, Wally, try it
for a couple of days.
You'll be surprised to find out
how much fun you'll have with it.
Well, uh...
Gee, Dad, I'm taking
a bus to school now,
and I get a lift after
football practice.
On Saturday they're driving
us over to play Madison High.
I don't know if I can take
time out to do any walking.
- Oh.
- But thanks anyway.
Yeah. Well, that's a shame.
You know, walking's one of
the greatest sports in the world.
I guess when I was a boy, I
must've walked 20 miles a day.
Gee whiz, 20 miles?
All with your feet?
Sure, all with my feet.
See, it must've been at least
10 miles back and forth to school,
and then after school, what
with errands and chores,
why, I guess I easily
put another 10 miles on it.
- Well...
- Could I have it, Dad?
Why, you sure can, Beaver.
And, you know, you're
going to be amazed
to find out how many
miles you walk in a day.
Gee, thanks, Dad.
This is a real neat
walking machine.
Well, just hope you have
as much fun with it as I did.
Oh, by the way, boys,
supper's going
to be a little late.
- How come?
- Your mother pushed
the wrong button.
Hey, Wally,
how far do you think it is
from here to the bathroom?
That's only a couple of steps.
You couldn't add up
any miles that way.
You could if you
get as dirty as I do.
Nevada.
N-E... V-A-D-A.
- Here.
- Oh, thanks.
Don't you have time
for an egg or something?
No, I'll eat two tomorrow.
Have the boys gone yet?
Wally's still upstairs.
Beaver left for school
15 minutes ago.
Oh, did the bus come early?
No. No, he wanted
to walk to school
with his new pedometer.
Well, now, there you are, dear.
You see, I'm not as
old-fashioned as you thought I was.
Yes, well, I'm not so sure
you should glamorize
your romantic past.
You don't want Beaver getting to
school so tired he can't do his work.
I think it's a very nice tribute
for a boy to want
to be like his father.
I suppose so.
As long as he doesn't overdo it.
- Thanks, dear.
- Hey.
Oh, yeah, mm-hmm. Bye.
Bye.
My father gave it to me
on account of his
father gave it to him
when he was a kid.
He used to walk 20 miles a day.
Who told you that baloney?
My father told me, and
he doesn't tell baloney.
Go on, Beaver.
Nobody can walk 20 miles a day.
Are you calling
my father a liar?
No, but no one could walk
it, that's all, especially a kid.
If he said he walked
it, he walked it.
I bet you I could walk 20 miles.
I'll bet you could, too.
How much you gonna bet?
I'll bet you a million dollars.
Huh.
You don't have
a million dollars.
All right, I'll bet
you something I got.
Yeah, Beaver,
why don't you bet him
your new outfielder's mitt?
All right, I will.
What will you bet me, Whitey?
I'll bet you my
three-cell flashlight
with the batteries included in.
Well... go ahead,
bet him, Beaver.
What's 20 miles?
Okay. I'll bet.
I'll bet you by tomorrow
I walk 20 miles,
right on the dial.
Boy, Beaver, are you
gonna lose this one.
What a dopey bet.
Hey, Larry, how far is 20 miles?
Well, I once saw a guy
on television walk 20 miles
through the desert for water,
and by the time he
got there, he was dead.
- Ward?
- Our paperboy's getting less
distance but more coverage.
Ward, did you see the Beaver
anywhere on your way home?
No, is something wrong?
He isn't home from school yet,
and it's after 5:00.
Oh, he probably took
the long way around.
Yes, thanks to your
boyhood memories.
No, walking will do him good.
You realize the Army's
turning down boys
because they're
not in condition?
The Army.
Now, Ward, you
stop talk like that.
Why, he's just a baby.
Oh, relax, dear. He'll be
home in a couple of minutes.
How far have you
walked now, Beaver?
Two miles and a little bit more.
Boy, and we've been walking
since school's out, even.
No wonder that guy
on television died.
Come on, Larry. Let's
zigzag some more.
Uh-uh, I'll wait
for you, Beaver.
If I'm going to die,
I don't want to
die from walking.
Wally.
Wall, would you come
down here a minute?
Ward, I'm really worried
about the Beaver.
He should have
been home long ago.
- Wally!
- Yeah, Dad.
What did I do, Dad?
Well, nothing.
Well, then how
come you called me?
We wanted to ask
if you might know
where your brother
went after school.
Oh. Well, heck, I don't know.
Don't you have any idea?
Well, a couple of months ago,
he said he'd like to run
away and join a circus.
Well... But he was
probably kidding, though.
Thank you very much, Wally.
You can go back upstairs.
Yes, sir.
Look, dear, if he isn't
home in 15 minutes,
I'll send Wally
out to look for him.
All right.
Ward,
there aren't any circuses
in town, are there?
How much you got now, Beavee?
Only 3 miles and a little hunk.
You don't think it's
busted, do you, Larry?
Maybe it's not walking
American miles.
Sure it is.
My father was an
American when he was a kid.
Hey, maybe we could take it down
to Simpson's Paint Store
and hang it on the machine
that shakes up the paint.
That would put a whole
mess of miles on it.
Nah. Mr. Simpson
wouldn't let us do that.
He gets mad if you
even look in the window.
What time is it, Larry?
It says 20 after 6,
so it must be around 5:30.
Well, I guess I'd
better get home.
Me, too, Beaver.
I'm getting sort of hungry.
How can it only be 3 miles?
That's okay, Beaver.
You only gotta walk about
17 miles by tomorrow morning.
Yeah. Well, I wish
it was Friday night.
Then I could stay up
and walk after supper.
Gee, I wonder how my father
used to walk 20 miles a day.
Maybe miles were shorter when
your dad was a kid. Huh, Beav?
Ah, cut that out,
will you, Larry?
Hey, I'll give you
a loan of a dime
if you want to ride
home on the bus.
Uh-uh. I'll walk.
If I'm gonna give up,
I'll wait till
tomorrow to give up.
Hey, Beav,
what are you doing taking
your baseball glove to school?
- 'Cause.
- 'Cause why?
'Cause I'm giving it to Whitey.
Well, for lend or for keeps?
For keeps. I betted
him, and I lost it.
Oh, boy. Dad's gonna be
sore when he hears about this.
Well, what did you bet Whitey?
Well, I bet him I could walk 20
miles a day, like Dad used to.
Gee, Beaver, Dad
was just talking.
Just 'cause he said he walked
20 miles when he was a kid,
what did you have to
go around saying it for?
You mean he didn't mean it?
Grownups are always
saying stuff like that.
Yeah. You know, Wally,
a guy'd be a lot better off
if he'd lock himself in his room
and didn't listen to anybody.
You couldn't do that, Beaver.
They'd send a truant
officer after you.
Well, boys, your mother
says tell you breakfast's ready.
Okay, Dad.
But gee, Dad, the bus doesn't
come for almost a half hour.
Well, Beaver, I thought you were
gonna walk to school again today.
No. I done enough
walking for a while.
What's the matter?
Oh, search me.
Boy, Beaver, this is the
easiest bet I ever won.
That glove's a lot better than
your crummy old flashlight.
Don't be a sorehead, Beaver.
I might let you catch
with it when I'm up at bat.
Yeah, Beaver. It's not Whitey's
fault you made a dumb bet.
Sure, Beaver. You're
the one who said
your father could
walk 20 miles a day.
He did walk 20 miles a day.
Did not.
- Did too.
- Huh. My father
wouldn't make up
baloney like that.
Come on!
What a sore loser.
Good morning, Miss Landers.
- Hi, dear.
- Hi.
Well, where are the other
members of my happy little family?
Wally went over to Tooey's.
Tooey bought a motor
scooter for 75 cents.
Uh, dear, I think you
must have heard wrong.
You can't buy a motor
scooter for 75 cents.
That's what Wally said.
Well, where's the Beaver?
He's been up in his room
ever since he came
home from school.
Oh. Studying?
Sulking.
Well, at least that'll
keep him off the streets.
No, Ward, he's really
worried about something.
I can't get anything out of him.
Well, it's probably some little
thing that happened at school.
I'll go up and
kid him out of it.
Get his mind on something else.
How?
Oh, I don't know.
I'll tell him to get
his fielder's mitt
and come out in the
backyard and play some catch.
Hi, Beaver. I thought we...
Well, what are you sitting
here tearing up paper for?
'Cause I'm mad.
What are you mad about?
Nothing.
You're certainly tearing up a
lot of paper to be mad at nothing.
Yes, sir.
Anything I can do?
No, sir.
Who are you mad at?
Everybody.
Oh, come on, now.
You can't be mad at everybody.
I'll tell you what.
Let's forget all about it and go
outside and play some catch.
Come on, get
your fielder's mitt.
What'd you have to say
a mean thing like that for?
Beaver!
- Hi, Mom.
- Hi.
I was over working on
Tooey's new motor scooter.
Your father says you can't
buy a motor scooter for 75 cents.
Well, Tooey did.
Wally says Tooey did too buy
a motor scooter for 75 cents.
What kind of a scooter?
Well, it doesn't
have any wheels,
and the place where
you sit's rusted through,
and the gear box is gone.
Well, then, it's
just a piece of junk.
It's not good for anything.
Yeah, I know,
but Tooey says he couldn't
pass up a bargain like that.
Ward, did you find out what
was bothering the Beaver?
Well, I asked him if he
wanted to go out and play catch,
and he locked himself
in the bathroom.
He says he's mad at everybody.
Everybody?
That's what he said.
I thought I'd just let him
cool off until suppertime.
- Uh, Dad?
- Uh-huh?
I think I know what's
bothering the Beaver.
So do I. He's mad at everybody.
Well, not everybody.
Just you.
What's he mad at me about?
Well, 'cause you told him you
used to walk 20 miles a day.
What?
Yeah, and he believed
you, and he made a bet.
And then he tried to
prove it with the pedometer.
He only walked about 4
miles, and he lost his glove.
So now he's mad at you.
Why would he do a
ridiculous thing like that?
'Cause he wanted
to be like you, Dad.
But Wally, when I
said 20 miles a day,
I was just using a round figure.
Yeah, well, you
and I know that, Dad,
'cause we're grown up, but gee,
the Beaver, he's just a kid.
He'll believe anything you say.
Yeah.
Well, I guess in the future,
you and I are going to
have to be more careful
about what we say.
Aren't we, Wally?
Yeah, I guess we are, Dad.
Where's your father going?
Upstairs to talk to the Beaver.
Oh.
Hey, Mom,
if me and Tooey get the
motor scooter running,
would you buy it off of us
to go to the market with?
Well, Wally, I think Tooey's
mother deserves first crack at it.
Sure. We'll ask her.
Beaver, come on out now.
Come on.
I'm not gonna pick up those
papers, no matter what you do to me.
Beaver, I didn't come
up here to scold you.
I came up to explain
about something.
Wally told me about the glove.
You mean you're not gonna
holler at me for losing it?
No, I'm not.
You see, Beav, when I
gave you my old pedometer,
I wanted you to
share my enthusiasm.
So, well, when I said I
walked 20 miles a day,
I'm afraid I was
exaggerating a little.
You were?
Yeah, I'm afraid so.
How many miles' worth
were you exaggerating?
Well, I'm afraid
quite a few, Beaver.
Oh.
Well, Beaver, you
and the other fellows
exaggerate from
time to time, don't you?
Yeah, kids do.
But a father shouldn't oughta.
Dad, why'd you make up that
stuff about walking 20 miles?
Well, I guess I was
just remembering
how much fun I had
when I was a boy.
Was it all fun when
you were a boy?
Oh, no, it certainly
wasn't, Beaver.
But when you grow up and
look back on your childhood,
I guess you're inclined to
remember the good things
and to forget
about the bad ones.
Gee. You mean when I'm grown up,
I'll forget about today
being such a bad day?
Well, I wouldn't be surprised.
When you tell this
story to your boy,
you may even say you
walked 40 miles a day.
Yeah, that'd make him think I
was a real neat dad, wouldn't it?
I guess it would, Beaver.
Dad?
Yeah?
I'll pick up the papers.
Thank you, Beaver.
Dear, I was just out in the garage.
What's all that junk out there?
Oh, that's Tooey's
motor scooter.
He brought it over this morning.
Wally bought it for $2.00.
But, well, Tooey only
paid 75 cents for it.
Well, I know, dear, but
Wally knows someone
who'll pay $4.00 for it.
And he won't tell
Tooey who it is.
Well, where is our
clever scooter trader?
He's upstairs. He and Beaver
are getting washed for lunch.
Hey, Wally, what's
that stuff you're using?
It's mechanic's soap. I
was working on the scooter.
It's real good. You
want to use some?
Nah. I already washed.
Well, anyway, I don't
want to get them too clean.
They'll expect it every day.
Yeah.
Hey, Wally, that
was pretty neat,
Dad admitting he made up
that walking stuff yesterday.
Yeah.
Hey, you know,
next time Dad catches
me telling a big story,
I'm gonna say I was just
reminiscing about my childhood.
Hey, Wally, that's pretty funny.
Are you really gonna do it?
Nah. Dad might not
think it's so funny.
Yeah.
Look what I have.
Oh. For me?
Not unless you want
to play center field.
It's for Beaver.
Dear, I don't think you
should've bought him a new glove.
He shouldn't lose
things making bets.
Yeah, I know, and I
talked to him about that.
But I really felt this time
it was partly my fault.
Anyway, makes a
fellow feel pretty good
to have his son willing to
back him up with his best mitt.
Well, I guess that's a
feeling I'll never know.
What are you doing?
Looking for a secret panel.
Ah, cut it out, Beaver.
They don't have secret
panels in this kind of house.
They only have them
in castles and stuff.
Larry Mondello's got a
secret panel in his house.
Ah, that's just an
old laundry chute.
Well, he wrote
"secret panel" on it.
- Hi, Dad.
- Hi.
Gee, Dad, for me?
Hey.
Yeah, I picked it up
downtown this afternoon.
Boy.
Look, it's just like
your other one, Beav.
Now, Beaver,
there's just one thing.
I hope you've
learned your lesson.
I don't want you making
any bets with this one.
Oh, sure, Dad.
There's quite a lot of
difference in gloves now
and when I was a boy.
Gee, Dad, did you play
baseball when you were a kid?
Did I?
We had an industrial league.
I was still in high
school and I...
Actually, I only played
part of one season.
You wouldn't be interested.
Gee, Dad, don't stop telling
us about the neat things you did,
even if you do
exaggerate them up.
Well, maybe I'll tell
you about it after supper.
Closed-Captioned By J.R.
Media Services, Inc. Burbank, CA
and...
June?
- Hi, dear.
- Hi.
Oh, what's all this?
I cleaned out your desk today.
I'm throwing all this away.
Oh, wait a minute.
These keys look new. I think
we ought to hang on to them.
Dear, they belong to the
three padlocks we threw away
when we moved and
we couldn't find the keys.
- Remember?
- All right.
All right, throw them all away.
Oh, just a minute.
I'm not going to
throw this away.
Ward, that's just
an old broken watch.
It only has one hand.
June, this is not a watch.
This is my old pedometer.
What's a pedometer?
Well, you set it at zero
and put it in your pocket
and it tells you how
many miles you walked.
Is that good to know?
It sure was when I was a kid.
My father gave me this.
I used to take hikes,
check the distance to school.
In the summers I'd clock myself
back and forth
from the ice house.
Sounds a little
old-fashioned to me.
Well, it certainly isn't.
As a matter of fact,
I think I'll take this up
and give it to the boys.
I'll bet you they get just as
big a kick out of it as I did.
Well, while you're up there,
would you tell the boys
supper will be a little late?
Late?
Yes, I put the roast
in the oven at 4:00,
but, well, I pushed
the wrong button.
Spell New York.
N-E-W Y-O-R-K.
New Jersey.
J-E-R-S-E-Y.
New Mexico.
M-E-X-I-C-O.
Beaver, that's New Mexico.
How come you're
leaving off the News?
Oh, I know my fronts.
I just gotta learn my backs.
Wyoming.
Wyoming?
Yeah, I skipped to the bottom.
What did you do that for?
Wyoming doesn't
even have a new on it.
Look, Beaver, you...
Hi, fellas.
- Hi, Dad.
- Hi, Dad.
I'm just spelling my states.
Oh, fine.
Hey, look what I
have for you, boys.
Gee, a present.
What is it?
- Don't you know?
- No, sir.
How about you, Wally?
It looks like a busted watch.
Yeah, there's a hand missing.
No, boys, it's a pedometer.
- Oh.
- Oh.
Oh, yeah, I saw one of those
once in a Boy Scout handbook.
Tells you how far
you walk or something.
It sure does.
My father gave me
this when I was a boy.
I had a wonderful time with it.
You did?
What did you do, Dad?
Well, I put it on,
and then I walked to school
and to the ice house
and back and
forth to the library,
all over town and... and, uh...
Well, then I checked to
see how far I'd walked.
Oh.
I guess there wasn't much
to do in those days, huh, Dad?
Look, Wally, try it
for a couple of days.
You'll be surprised to find out
how much fun you'll have with it.
Well, uh...
Gee, Dad, I'm taking
a bus to school now,
and I get a lift after
football practice.
On Saturday they're driving
us over to play Madison High.
I don't know if I can take
time out to do any walking.
- Oh.
- But thanks anyway.
Yeah. Well, that's a shame.
You know, walking's one of
the greatest sports in the world.
I guess when I was a boy, I
must've walked 20 miles a day.
Gee whiz, 20 miles?
All with your feet?
Sure, all with my feet.
See, it must've been at least
10 miles back and forth to school,
and then after school, what
with errands and chores,
why, I guess I easily
put another 10 miles on it.
- Well...
- Could I have it, Dad?
Why, you sure can, Beaver.
And, you know, you're
going to be amazed
to find out how many
miles you walk in a day.
Gee, thanks, Dad.
This is a real neat
walking machine.
Well, just hope you have
as much fun with it as I did.
Oh, by the way, boys,
supper's going
to be a little late.
- How come?
- Your mother pushed
the wrong button.
Hey, Wally,
how far do you think it is
from here to the bathroom?
That's only a couple of steps.
You couldn't add up
any miles that way.
You could if you
get as dirty as I do.
Nevada.
N-E... V-A-D-A.
- Here.
- Oh, thanks.
Don't you have time
for an egg or something?
No, I'll eat two tomorrow.
Have the boys gone yet?
Wally's still upstairs.
Beaver left for school
15 minutes ago.
Oh, did the bus come early?
No. No, he wanted
to walk to school
with his new pedometer.
Well, now, there you are, dear.
You see, I'm not as
old-fashioned as you thought I was.
Yes, well, I'm not so sure
you should glamorize
your romantic past.
You don't want Beaver getting to
school so tired he can't do his work.
I think it's a very nice tribute
for a boy to want
to be like his father.
I suppose so.
As long as he doesn't overdo it.
- Thanks, dear.
- Hey.
Oh, yeah, mm-hmm. Bye.
Bye.
My father gave it to me
on account of his
father gave it to him
when he was a kid.
He used to walk 20 miles a day.
Who told you that baloney?
My father told me, and
he doesn't tell baloney.
Go on, Beaver.
Nobody can walk 20 miles a day.
Are you calling
my father a liar?
No, but no one could walk
it, that's all, especially a kid.
If he said he walked
it, he walked it.
I bet you I could walk 20 miles.
I'll bet you could, too.
How much you gonna bet?
I'll bet you a million dollars.
Huh.
You don't have
a million dollars.
All right, I'll bet
you something I got.
Yeah, Beaver,
why don't you bet him
your new outfielder's mitt?
All right, I will.
What will you bet me, Whitey?
I'll bet you my
three-cell flashlight
with the batteries included in.
Well... go ahead,
bet him, Beaver.
What's 20 miles?
Okay. I'll bet.
I'll bet you by tomorrow
I walk 20 miles,
right on the dial.
Boy, Beaver, are you
gonna lose this one.
What a dopey bet.
Hey, Larry, how far is 20 miles?
Well, I once saw a guy
on television walk 20 miles
through the desert for water,
and by the time he
got there, he was dead.
- Ward?
- Our paperboy's getting less
distance but more coverage.
Ward, did you see the Beaver
anywhere on your way home?
No, is something wrong?
He isn't home from school yet,
and it's after 5:00.
Oh, he probably took
the long way around.
Yes, thanks to your
boyhood memories.
No, walking will do him good.
You realize the Army's
turning down boys
because they're
not in condition?
The Army.
Now, Ward, you
stop talk like that.
Why, he's just a baby.
Oh, relax, dear. He'll be
home in a couple of minutes.
How far have you
walked now, Beaver?
Two miles and a little bit more.
Boy, and we've been walking
since school's out, even.
No wonder that guy
on television died.
Come on, Larry. Let's
zigzag some more.
Uh-uh, I'll wait
for you, Beaver.
If I'm going to die,
I don't want to
die from walking.
Wally.
Wall, would you come
down here a minute?
Ward, I'm really worried
about the Beaver.
He should have
been home long ago.
- Wally!
- Yeah, Dad.
What did I do, Dad?
Well, nothing.
Well, then how
come you called me?
We wanted to ask
if you might know
where your brother
went after school.
Oh. Well, heck, I don't know.
Don't you have any idea?
Well, a couple of months ago,
he said he'd like to run
away and join a circus.
Well... But he was
probably kidding, though.
Thank you very much, Wally.
You can go back upstairs.
Yes, sir.
Look, dear, if he isn't
home in 15 minutes,
I'll send Wally
out to look for him.
All right.
Ward,
there aren't any circuses
in town, are there?
How much you got now, Beavee?
Only 3 miles and a little hunk.
You don't think it's
busted, do you, Larry?
Maybe it's not walking
American miles.
Sure it is.
My father was an
American when he was a kid.
Hey, maybe we could take it down
to Simpson's Paint Store
and hang it on the machine
that shakes up the paint.
That would put a whole
mess of miles on it.
Nah. Mr. Simpson
wouldn't let us do that.
He gets mad if you
even look in the window.
What time is it, Larry?
It says 20 after 6,
so it must be around 5:30.
Well, I guess I'd
better get home.
Me, too, Beaver.
I'm getting sort of hungry.
How can it only be 3 miles?
That's okay, Beaver.
You only gotta walk about
17 miles by tomorrow morning.
Yeah. Well, I wish
it was Friday night.
Then I could stay up
and walk after supper.
Gee, I wonder how my father
used to walk 20 miles a day.
Maybe miles were shorter when
your dad was a kid. Huh, Beav?
Ah, cut that out,
will you, Larry?
Hey, I'll give you
a loan of a dime
if you want to ride
home on the bus.
Uh-uh. I'll walk.
If I'm gonna give up,
I'll wait till
tomorrow to give up.
Hey, Beav,
what are you doing taking
your baseball glove to school?
- 'Cause.
- 'Cause why?
'Cause I'm giving it to Whitey.
Well, for lend or for keeps?
For keeps. I betted
him, and I lost it.
Oh, boy. Dad's gonna be
sore when he hears about this.
Well, what did you bet Whitey?
Well, I bet him I could walk 20
miles a day, like Dad used to.
Gee, Beaver, Dad
was just talking.
Just 'cause he said he walked
20 miles when he was a kid,
what did you have to
go around saying it for?
You mean he didn't mean it?
Grownups are always
saying stuff like that.
Yeah. You know, Wally,
a guy'd be a lot better off
if he'd lock himself in his room
and didn't listen to anybody.
You couldn't do that, Beaver.
They'd send a truant
officer after you.
Well, boys, your mother
says tell you breakfast's ready.
Okay, Dad.
But gee, Dad, the bus doesn't
come for almost a half hour.
Well, Beaver, I thought you were
gonna walk to school again today.
No. I done enough
walking for a while.
What's the matter?
Oh, search me.
Boy, Beaver, this is the
easiest bet I ever won.
That glove's a lot better than
your crummy old flashlight.
Don't be a sorehead, Beaver.
I might let you catch
with it when I'm up at bat.
Yeah, Beaver. It's not Whitey's
fault you made a dumb bet.
Sure, Beaver. You're
the one who said
your father could
walk 20 miles a day.
He did walk 20 miles a day.
Did not.
- Did too.
- Huh. My father
wouldn't make up
baloney like that.
Come on!
What a sore loser.
Good morning, Miss Landers.
- Hi, dear.
- Hi.
Well, where are the other
members of my happy little family?
Wally went over to Tooey's.
Tooey bought a motor
scooter for 75 cents.
Uh, dear, I think you
must have heard wrong.
You can't buy a motor
scooter for 75 cents.
That's what Wally said.
Well, where's the Beaver?
He's been up in his room
ever since he came
home from school.
Oh. Studying?
Sulking.
Well, at least that'll
keep him off the streets.
No, Ward, he's really
worried about something.
I can't get anything out of him.
Well, it's probably some little
thing that happened at school.
I'll go up and
kid him out of it.
Get his mind on something else.
How?
Oh, I don't know.
I'll tell him to get
his fielder's mitt
and come out in the
backyard and play some catch.
Hi, Beaver. I thought we...
Well, what are you sitting
here tearing up paper for?
'Cause I'm mad.
What are you mad about?
Nothing.
You're certainly tearing up a
lot of paper to be mad at nothing.
Yes, sir.
Anything I can do?
No, sir.
Who are you mad at?
Everybody.
Oh, come on, now.
You can't be mad at everybody.
I'll tell you what.
Let's forget all about it and go
outside and play some catch.
Come on, get
your fielder's mitt.
What'd you have to say
a mean thing like that for?
Beaver!
- Hi, Mom.
- Hi.
I was over working on
Tooey's new motor scooter.
Your father says you can't
buy a motor scooter for 75 cents.
Well, Tooey did.
Wally says Tooey did too buy
a motor scooter for 75 cents.
What kind of a scooter?
Well, it doesn't
have any wheels,
and the place where
you sit's rusted through,
and the gear box is gone.
Well, then, it's
just a piece of junk.
It's not good for anything.
Yeah, I know,
but Tooey says he couldn't
pass up a bargain like that.
Ward, did you find out what
was bothering the Beaver?
Well, I asked him if he
wanted to go out and play catch,
and he locked himself
in the bathroom.
He says he's mad at everybody.
Everybody?
That's what he said.
I thought I'd just let him
cool off until suppertime.
- Uh, Dad?
- Uh-huh?
I think I know what's
bothering the Beaver.
So do I. He's mad at everybody.
Well, not everybody.
Just you.
What's he mad at me about?
Well, 'cause you told him you
used to walk 20 miles a day.
What?
Yeah, and he believed
you, and he made a bet.
And then he tried to
prove it with the pedometer.
He only walked about 4
miles, and he lost his glove.
So now he's mad at you.
Why would he do a
ridiculous thing like that?
'Cause he wanted
to be like you, Dad.
But Wally, when I
said 20 miles a day,
I was just using a round figure.
Yeah, well, you
and I know that, Dad,
'cause we're grown up, but gee,
the Beaver, he's just a kid.
He'll believe anything you say.
Yeah.
Well, I guess in the future,
you and I are going to
have to be more careful
about what we say.
Aren't we, Wally?
Yeah, I guess we are, Dad.
Where's your father going?
Upstairs to talk to the Beaver.
Oh.
Hey, Mom,
if me and Tooey get the
motor scooter running,
would you buy it off of us
to go to the market with?
Well, Wally, I think Tooey's
mother deserves first crack at it.
Sure. We'll ask her.
Beaver, come on out now.
Come on.
I'm not gonna pick up those
papers, no matter what you do to me.
Beaver, I didn't come
up here to scold you.
I came up to explain
about something.
Wally told me about the glove.
You mean you're not gonna
holler at me for losing it?
No, I'm not.
You see, Beav, when I
gave you my old pedometer,
I wanted you to
share my enthusiasm.
So, well, when I said I
walked 20 miles a day,
I'm afraid I was
exaggerating a little.
You were?
Yeah, I'm afraid so.
How many miles' worth
were you exaggerating?
Well, I'm afraid
quite a few, Beaver.
Oh.
Well, Beaver, you
and the other fellows
exaggerate from
time to time, don't you?
Yeah, kids do.
But a father shouldn't oughta.
Dad, why'd you make up that
stuff about walking 20 miles?
Well, I guess I was
just remembering
how much fun I had
when I was a boy.
Was it all fun when
you were a boy?
Oh, no, it certainly
wasn't, Beaver.
But when you grow up and
look back on your childhood,
I guess you're inclined to
remember the good things
and to forget
about the bad ones.
Gee. You mean when I'm grown up,
I'll forget about today
being such a bad day?
Well, I wouldn't be surprised.
When you tell this
story to your boy,
you may even say you
walked 40 miles a day.
Yeah, that'd make him think I
was a real neat dad, wouldn't it?
I guess it would, Beaver.
Dad?
Yeah?
I'll pick up the papers.
Thank you, Beaver.
Dear, I was just out in the garage.
What's all that junk out there?
Oh, that's Tooey's
motor scooter.
He brought it over this morning.
Wally bought it for $2.00.
But, well, Tooey only
paid 75 cents for it.
Well, I know, dear, but
Wally knows someone
who'll pay $4.00 for it.
And he won't tell
Tooey who it is.
Well, where is our
clever scooter trader?
He's upstairs. He and Beaver
are getting washed for lunch.
Hey, Wally, what's
that stuff you're using?
It's mechanic's soap. I
was working on the scooter.
It's real good. You
want to use some?
Nah. I already washed.
Well, anyway, I don't
want to get them too clean.
They'll expect it every day.
Yeah.
Hey, Wally, that
was pretty neat,
Dad admitting he made up
that walking stuff yesterday.
Yeah.
Hey, you know,
next time Dad catches
me telling a big story,
I'm gonna say I was just
reminiscing about my childhood.
Hey, Wally, that's pretty funny.
Are you really gonna do it?
Nah. Dad might not
think it's so funny.
Yeah.
Look what I have.
Oh. For me?
Not unless you want
to play center field.
It's for Beaver.
Dear, I don't think you
should've bought him a new glove.
He shouldn't lose
things making bets.
Yeah, I know, and I
talked to him about that.
But I really felt this time
it was partly my fault.
Anyway, makes a
fellow feel pretty good
to have his son willing to
back him up with his best mitt.
Well, I guess that's a
feeling I'll never know.
What are you doing?
Looking for a secret panel.
Ah, cut it out, Beaver.
They don't have secret
panels in this kind of house.
They only have them
in castles and stuff.
Larry Mondello's got a
secret panel in his house.
Ah, that's just an
old laundry chute.
Well, he wrote
"secret panel" on it.
- Hi, Dad.
- Hi.
Gee, Dad, for me?
Hey.
Yeah, I picked it up
downtown this afternoon.
Boy.
Look, it's just like
your other one, Beav.
Now, Beaver,
there's just one thing.
I hope you've
learned your lesson.
I don't want you making
any bets with this one.
Oh, sure, Dad.
There's quite a lot of
difference in gloves now
and when I was a boy.
Gee, Dad, did you play
baseball when you were a kid?
Did I?
We had an industrial league.
I was still in high
school and I...
Actually, I only played
part of one season.
You wouldn't be interested.
Gee, Dad, don't stop telling
us about the neat things you did,
even if you do
exaggerate them up.
Well, maybe I'll tell
you about it after supper.
Closed-Captioned By J.R.
Media Services, Inc. Burbank, CA