Mama's Family (1983–1990): Season 3, Episode 17 - Birthright - full transcript

Yeah, that sounds good.
Vinton, get a move on.

Iola's here to see our number.

Ooh, Thelma, the
suspense is killin' me.

This song and dance is
gonna be the best thing

about the church
Mother's Day luncheon.

Well, it won't be hard to top
Reverend Meechum's lecture

on mothers of the Old Testament.

You know, Thelma, I am
also performing in the show.

You? What could you do?

I am reciting one of
my original poems.

Would you like to hear it?



Well, we would love to, Iola

but we're right in the
middle of a rehearsal here.

Oh, nonsense, I can do it
while we're waiting for Vint.

Vinton, will you hurry it up?

"A Mother's Hands"
by Iola Lucille Boylen.

When I was just a little girl

what was there
to brush each curl?

A mother's hands.

What shook the rattle
when I said goo-goo?

What bandaged each
and every boo-boo?

A mother's hands.

Well, that is really good, Iola.

Oh, it's not over. There
are 17 more stanzas.

Yo, Vinton!



Will you get in here?

Iola, why don't you just put
your "Mother's Hands" on ice?

Come on, Vinton. We've
got to rehearse this thing.

Oh, mama, do I have
to do it in front of Iola?

You're gonna be doin' it
in front of the entire church.

- Oh!
- Come on now.

Let's take it from the top.

Okay, now just imagine them

in the cutest little tramp
outfits you ever saw.

Oh, musical
vagrants. How darlin'.

Yeah, hit it.

Let's do this sucker now.

♪♪ Oh we ain't got a barrel of ♪♪
♪♪ Money ♪♪

♪♪ Maybe we're ragged and ♪♪
♪♪ Funny ♪♪

♪♪ But we'll travel
along singin' a song ♪♪

♪♪ Side by ♪♪
♪♪ Side ♪♪

♪♪ Through ♪♪
♪♪ Through all kinds of weather ♪♪

♪♪ What ♪♪

♪♪ What if the
sky should fall? ♪♪

♪♪ As long ♪♪

♪♪ Just as long as
we're together ♪♪

♪♪ It doesn't matter at all ♪♪

♪♪ It doesn't matter ♪♪

♪♪ When they've all had their ♪♪

♪♪ Laurels and ♪♪
♪♪ Parted ♪♪

♪♪ We'll be the ♪♪

♪♪ Same as we ♪♪
♪♪ Started ♪♪

♪♪ Just travelin' along ♪♪

♪♪ Singin' a song ♪♪

♪♪ Side by side ♪♪

♪♪ Side by side ♪♪

♪♪ Side by side ♪♪♪♪

Okay, you guys,
the coast is clear.

Yeah? Clear for what?

Well, Vinton, we have to decide

what we're gettin' your
mother for Mother's Day.

- It's tomorrow.
- Oh!

I know. How about a belt?

Bubba, the last
thing she needs to do

is call attention to her waist.

Well, there you are.
What are you three up to?

Oh, nothing. Um,
just gettin' the mail.

- Yeah. Me, too.
- And so was I.

Vinton, when you're all
done playin' post office

would you please sharpen
this kitchen knife for me?

It is so dull, it
won't cut butter.

Oh, sure thing, mama.

- And mind that broken handle.
- Yeah.

Lord, do I need a new
set of kitchen knives?

Ones that match
with-with one of them

little racks to hang 'em up.

Mm, yeah. Those are nice.

Aren't they? And I've
seen them somewhere.

Uh, Niedermayer's,
down in the mall.

They've got 'em on sale.

Of course, that's not something

you would buy for yourself.

That's more of a gift item.

Here you go, mama. Good as new.

That knife will
last you a lifetime.

Yeah, well, I guess
it's gonna have to.

Hey, you guys, look at this.

"To whom it may concern."

Let me see that.

It has no address or stamp.

What, did somebody
just stick it in the box?

Well, here, let's
see what it is.

Uh...

"Dear whom.

"I am sending this letter to
everyone in the neighborhood.

"I am looking for information

"on the whereabouts
of my natural son

"who was left 44 years ago
on the doorstep of a house

"in the 1200 block of Ray Way.

"If you know him,
please call this number.

"Ask for mommy."

- Weird. Totally weird.
- Well, that's your age, honey.

Did you play with any
kids that were adopted?

Well, I don't know.

Well, Jeff Willits?
He was kinda strange.

Had those little
close-together eyes.

- Maybe it was him.
- No, I don't think so.

His mother had those
same close-together eyes.

Well, think, honey. Who
else could it have been?

Well, nobody.

Me and Jeff were the only
two boys on the block that age.

Maybe it was you, Uncle Vint.

Yeah, that would explain

why you're so sweet
and your mama is so...

Is somebody gonna come in here

and help me move
this living room furniture

or should I just go ahead
and break my back?

- Yep.
- We're coming, Miss Harper.

Vinton, will you get in here?

Bubba's tryin' to move
my sofa all by himself.

He's gonna scratch
up my good floor.

Huh? Did you say
something, mama?

Am I speaking in a foreign
tongue here or what?

I swear, you haven't got the
sense God gave a cabbage.

Oh, but, mama, I got...

- Don't you mama me.
- Ow! Ooh!

You're not acting
like any son of mine.

And I tell you what,
it's a good thing

they had chicken on
special this mornin'.

Here we go. Seconds
for everybody.

- Oh, great.
- Yum.

Not hungry tonight, Bubba?

I see you left a few measly
wings for the rest of us.

No sense in bein' a hog.

Oh, never mind, Naomi.

All the drumsticks are gone.

Thanks a lot, Bubba.

Oh, now, Vinton,
he's a growin' boy.

There's nothin' I like
better than a good eater.

I'd do my best, grandma.

Yeah, you're a
typical Harper, Bubba.

A big old red-headed
boy with a hearty appetite.

Oh, mama, all us
Harpers don't have red hair.

All but you, Vinton.

Eunice is a natural
redhead, so is Ellen.

- Ellen is a blond.
- You ever seen her roots?

I was a carrot-top,
and so was your daddy.

- Well, what happened to me?
- Who knows, Vinton?

Here, I had my heart
set on a little red-headed

freckle-faced kid
just like off the cover

of the "Saturday Evening
Post," and then you come along.

Of course, I decided
to keep you anyway.

Knock. Knock.

Hi, everybody. It's only me.

- Oh, you're having dinner.
- Yeah.

Just like we do every
night at this time.

Well, go right ahead.
I won't be a minute.

Oh, Vint, what a nice shirt.

Oh, thanks.

It'd probably look
better on a redhead.

What you got there, Iola?

Oh, I wanted to show
you what I made my mother

for Mother's Day.

How cute. What
is that for, Kleenex?

No. I-it's a petit
point medicine box.

You see, I made a
separate compartment

for each day out
of plastic eggshell.

She can put all of her pills
in there for the entire week

and avoid grappling with
annoying childproof caps.

Oh, I get it.

Sort of a Whitman
sampler for drugs.

Yes, in a way.
Yeah. Do you like it?

Well, I think it was
real thoughtful of you

to give her somethin'
practical, Iola.

I hate gettin' flowers
for Mother's Day.

They just die. No, siree, Bob.

Give me somethin' I can use.

Say, uh, Iola, uh,
does your mother

have a good set
of kitchen knives?

Oh, my, yes, and a
rack to hang 'em on.

Oh, what a lucky woman.

Well, I don't see
what's so lucky about

a doped up old
woman handlin' knives.

Well, grandma,
what's for dessert?

Oh, I made your
favorite. Strawberry pie.

- Oh, boy!
- Yum.

Well, mama, you know
I'm allergic to strawberries.

Well, none of the rest of
us are, and there's no reason

we should all do without
just because of one oddball.

Well, excuse me
for not fittin' in.

I think I'll go out in
the kitchen and see

if I can find somethin' that
this brown-haired oddball

isn't allergic to.

Well, I hope it's nothin'
you need a good knife for.

Well, there you are, baby.

What is the matter? It's late.

- Come on to bed.
- Yeah, in a minute, hon.

I just found my
birth certificate.

Oh, look. Is that
your baby book?

- Yeah.
- Oh, isn't that adorable?

"Weight, eight
pounds three ounces.

"Length, 22 inches.

"Color of hair, not red."

- That's you alright, baby.
- Yeah.

Oh, wait a minute.
Wait a minute.

This says I was born on May 4.

My birthday is April 23.

Well, that doesn't
make any sense.

- It does if I'm adopted.
- What are you talkin' about?

Naomi, you said yourself that
I'm too sweet to be mama's son.

Now, I-I think that nice
lady who left that note

in our mailbox
is my real mother.

Wait a minute, I saw
something like this

last week on "Phil Donahue."

- You did?
- Yes, I did.

There was this
woman from Chicago

who had left her infant son
on a doorstep 50 years ago

and when she was
reunited with him

he had become a millionaire.

No kiddin'.

What, did Phil ever
show a baby son

whose mother turned
out to be a millionaire?

- Not that I know of.
- Oh.

Oh, honey, just
forget about all this.

Come on downstairs.
I'll make you feel better.

Yeah. In a minute, hon. I,
I gotta think this thing out.

If I'm not Vinton
Harper then who am I?

Well, just remember, baby.

No matter who
you are, I love you.

Thanks, Skeeter.

"Ellen's first rattle."

Ah-ha!

Well, Vinton, what in the
world are you still doin' up?

Mama, why do you have
Ellen's first rattle and not mine?

Because you broke every
single toy you ever had.

What's all this stuff
doin' down here, anyway?

Well, I was havin'
trouble sleeping

so I thought I'd go through
a few of my old things.

Yeah? Why don't you try
warm milk like everybody else?

Well, I guess I'm not like
everybody else, mama.

Well, I guess not, Vinton.

Do you know that I have
been through all of these boxes

and I haven't found one baby
picture of me? Why is that?

Well, people back then didn't
take pictures like they do now.

Well, you've got entire albums
of Baby Ellen and Baby Eunice.

- What happened to Baby Vint?
- Well, I'm sorry, Vinton.

I guess by the time you came
along, I was tired of pictures.

Besides, you've seen
one baby's butt on a rug

you've seen 'em all.

Uh-huh. Then how
do you explain this?

Well, what's to explain?
That's your birth certificate.

Is it? I was born on April
23 or so I've been told.

Oh, that.

You remember how
you'd come early

when I was out at the
farm visiting Aunt Mertis?

And there wasn't a
doctor around for 50 miles.

Yeah. So?

Well, so, when I
got back to Raytown

the hall of records
put down the day

that I applied for
the birth certificate

instead of the day
that you were born.

How convenient.

You wouldn't say that if you'd
ever given birth in a henhouse.

You certainly have an
answer for everything

don't you, Mrs. Harper?

Well, what in the world
has gotten into you?

Admit it, Mrs.
Harper. I'm adopted.

Adopted? What the
hell are you talkin' about?

I'm talkin' about this note
that I got from my real mother.

Oh, Good Lord,
Vinton, this is probably

just a come-on
for dance lessons.

Oh, don't try to bluff your
way out of this, Mrs. Harper.

Stop calling me that!

I will if you tell me the truth.

The truth is I'm not
gonna stand here

and listen to anymore
of this foolishness.

I'm goin' to bed,
and so should you.

- We got a show to do tomorrow.
- Oh, no, we don't.

I'm not gonna get up in public
and pretend to be your son.

Don't you even think
about flaking out on me

Vinton Harper.

Vinton Harper? Now
who might that be?

I'll tell you who.

He is an ungrateful
brat who, after 40 years

of givin' me nothin' but
heartache and humiliation

has suddenly decided he's been
dumpin' on the wrong woman.

Now, you listen
here to me, mister.

You are my son,
'cause if you weren't

I'd throw you out
that back door so fast

it would make your head spin.

Hello, mommy?

Knock. Knock.

- Is Vint back yet?
- No, Miss Boylen.

And grandma says she's
not singin' without him.

What? She's got to. I'm
the only other performer.

And "A Mother's Hands"
is merely an opening act.

Well, too bad, Iola.

She's locked herself
in the bathroom

and refuses to come out.

- Knock, knock?
- Leave me alone. I'm busy.

Thelma, come on out of there.

The Mother's Day
show must go on.

It is not Mother's Day
for me. Ellen's on a cruise.

Eunice sent a card
asking for money.

And now, my only
son has deserted me.

Thelma, you've got to.
Besides, you are the number.

Yeah. Uncle Vint's
only window dressing.

- You're the star, Miss Harper.
- The star?

- Yes.
- Yes.

Of course, now
come on out of there

and strut your stuff.

Well, I'll rehearse

but I've got no
intention of goin' on.

Alright, let's do this thing.

And remember, tempo, tempo.

♪♪ Money maybe
we're ragged and ♪♪

♪♪ Travel along
singin' a song ♪♪

♪♪ Side ♪♪

♪♪ Through ♪♪

♪♪ What ♪♪

♪♪ As long ♪♪

♪♪ It doesn't matter ♪♪♪♪

The hell it doesn't matter here!

How dare Vinton walk
out on me like this!

I will see to it that he never
works in this town again.

Well, here we are, Mrs. Minter.

Oh, just call me mummy.

So this nice, big
house is yours?

- Yes, ma'am.
- Oh, I'm sure you're the one.

- You are?
- Oh!

A mother knows her own son.

Uh, what was your name, dear?

- Vint.
- Vint?

What kind of a name is Vint?

Well, I don't know. I, I
suppose I could change it.

Oh, I called my baby Menlowe.

Of course, I've gotten
awful used to Vint.

Oh, but I do know that my son
was going to be a great success.

Yeah, yeah, well, I
guess I've done alright.

Oh, don't be so modest.

A good job, a spacious house.

Why, you've got more than
enough to make a mother happy.

Oh, thanks. It's nice to be
appreciated for a change.

Oh, Vinton. Thank
goodness you came back.

I can't do this
number all by my...

Who is this?

This is mommy.

Some people call
her Mrs. Minter.

This is Mrs. Harper.

Some people call her mama.

So you're the mysterious mommy.

The letter writer,
the baby ditcher.

Oh, but now I'm the baby finder

because my Menlowe
has come back to me.

Way to go, Menlowe.

So, Mrs. Minter,
what made you decide

to come lookin' for your
child after all these years?

Well, it was Phil Donahue.

Last week on his show,
he reunited a mother

with her long-lost son.

Yes, I saw that one, too.

Oh, did you see the look of joy

and jubilation on
that mother's face?

- Oh, my, yes, I did.
- Oh!

It was right after
she found out her son

had become a millionaire.

Gee, I wish I'd seen that show.

Well, Vinton, I... I guess
you've found me out.

I guess this mommy here
must be your real mother.

Oh. Then it's true?

Oh, joy and
jubilation, Mrs. Harper.

Thank you so much for
taking care of my son.

Well, it's obvious that
you've made a lot of sacrifices.

Well, that's what bein'
a mother is all about.

But of course, now
you can take over.

Oh, I certainly shall.

So, Menlowe

I guess you'll be packin'
up your things now

and movin' in with mommy.

- I will?
- Oh, but that's impossible.

I live in one room.

I thought I would be
moving in w-with my son.

Um, no. Not unless he
buys this house from me.

Menlowe, don't
you own this house?

Hell, no, Menlowe rents
a basement room from me

and he is three months overdue.

Of course, you can settle
up his bill when he moves out.

But I thought you were well-off.

You said you were in securities.

No, security systems.
I'm a locksmith, mommy.

Oh, well, Mrs. Minter to you.

Nothing has been verified.

Well, I tell you
what, Mrs. Minter.

Why don't you just
take Menlowe here

for the next 45 years,
and then if you're not happy

you can bring him on back?

Are you out of your mind?

I sent out over 200 letters.

You think I'm going to accept

the very first deadbeat
who responds?

Now, just a damn minute here.

My son may be a failure
and he may be a little bit dim

and Lord knows he has
been nothin' but trouble

since the day he was born

but I will knock the socks
off of any gray-haired

gold digger that
calls him a deadbeat.

Oh, well, how dare you
speak to me that way

you, you tramp?

- Get off of my property!
- Oh, my...

I hope for your son's
sake, he never does find you

'cause givin' him up was
the nicest thing you ever did.

Well, I guess she
wasn't my real mother.

Vinton, I can understand
how you might

want to have a different mother.

One who's not so loud or bossy

or, or such a fashion plight.

But the fact of the matter
is, Vinton, you are my son.

And like it or not,
you're stuck with me.

Well, I can't think of a mother
I'd... rather be stuck with.

♪♪ Oh we ain't
got a barrel of ♪♪

♪♪ Money ♪♪

♪♪ Maybe we're ragged and ♪♪
♪♪ Funny ♪♪

♪♪ But we'll travel
along singin' a song ♪♪

♪♪ Side by side ♪♪♪♪

I love you, mama.

That's my Menlowe...
Oh, uh, Vinton.