Petticoat Junction (1963–1970): Season 1, Episode 16 - Bobbie Jo and the Beatnik - full transcript

(train whistle blows twice)

♪ Come ride the little train ♪

♪ That is rollin' down the
tracks to the Junction ♪

(bell clanging)

♪ Forget about your cares ♪

♪ It is time to relax
at the Junction ♪

(whistle blows twice)

♪ Lots of curves, you bet ♪

♪ And even more when you get ♪

♪ To the Junction ♪

♪ Petticoat Junction ♪



(snare drum plays train rhythm)

♪ There's a little hotel called
the Shady Rest at the Junction ♪

♪ Petticoat Junction ♪

♪ It is run by Kate, come and
be her guest at the Junction ♪

♪ Petticoat Junction ♪

♪ And that's Uncle Joe,
he's a-movin' kinda slow ♪

♪ At the Junction ♪

♪ Petticoat Junction! ♪

(train whistle blows twice)

Shady Rest Hotel.

Is that the place
your mother runs?

My goodness! Are
we here already?

Yeah. We're here already.

We've only been
walking for four hours.



I've enjoyed listening
to you so much,

I haven't even been
conscious of walking.

Yeah, well, I have.

Well, come on up
and take a hot bath

and get some food.

You'll feel lots better.

No. I'm just going
to rest her for a while,

and then I'm going to move on.

But, Alan, I wanted
you to meet my mom

and my sisters and my Uncle Joe.

No. Not that family bit.

I mean, that warm,
friendly small talk

just turns me right off.

You mean...? I
mean it's so insincere.

People ask you how you are,

but they don't listen
to what you say. Why?

Because they don't care.

My family would care.

You think so, huh?

You get home from
school, they probably say,

"How was school?" Right?

Something like that.

Well, I'll bet you that,
if you say, "Lousy,"

they'll say, "Oh!
That's fine. Let's eat."

Baby, don't you see
how confused you are?

Yes, Alan, I am confused,

but I want to find the truth

as you have found it.

Please stay and help me.

Aw, no. Baby, you're too soft.

You're too tender to face truth.

You're a dove. I'm an eagle.

I'm screaming at life.

I'm longing just to
tear it wide open.

Oh, please, Alan, please
stay, at least for a while.

Wow, you're such a nice kid.

You're bright, too.

I just want to rest
here for a while,

and then I'm gonna be moving on.

My mom's a wonderful cook, Alan,
and I know you must be hungry.

And I promise you,
you won't have to make

any small talk with the family.

You can just eat, and
everyone will be quiet.

Will it make you happy, kid?

Yes, Alan.

Listen, you wait here,

and I'll run up and
warn everybody.

I mean, that you don't
want to be bored and all.

Okay.

Listen, you fly on, dove.

Maybe the eagle will be here

when you get back and maybe not.

Oh, please be here, Alan.

Please.

You say he's from New York?

New York City. He's
a writer and a poet.

You say he's good-looking, huh?

Oh, he's handsome
and so intellectual.

And you left him sitting
down at the track?

Well, he's resting;

we walked all the
way from Hooterville.

You walked all the
way from Hooterville?!

Not really, Mom.

I floated, I flew, I danced!

Oh, Mom, he's so brilliant!

Where you going, Billie Jo?

Uh, well, I just thought
I'd freshen up a little bit.

Uh, we want to make a
good impression, don't we?

We sure do, Billie.

Oh, Mom, Alan's the
first boy I've ever met

that I can really
communicate with.

Well, he knows everything,
he's read everything.

He's so deep and so alive,

so sensitive and so profound.

And you met him in Hooterville?

Uh-huh.

At the library on my way
to school this morning.

Bobbie Jo, come
over here and sit down,

and tell me everything,
right from the beginning.

Okay. Hi, Bobbie.

How were things at school today?

Oh, just... lousy.

That's fine. Let's eat, Kate.

Mom, you see? We just
don't listen to each other.

We're just not alive.

Well, I'm alive, and I'm hungry.

We're all hungry, Uncle Joe!

We're hungry to know who we are,

where we are and why we're here.

Well, speaking for
myself, I'm Joe Carson,

I'm in the kitchen,
and I'm in here to eat.

Oh!

No wonder Alan's so bitter!

Oh! Hello.

I didn't know you were here.

(feigns chuckle)

Yes, you did.

That's why you came down here.

(chuckles)

Well, come to think of it, my
sister did mention something.

Are you the boy
from New York City?

Greenwich Village.

Oh.

Bobbie Jo said New York.

You know, she never
gets anything right.

(clears throat)

Uh, if you were to move
your feet, I could sit down.

I know.

(chuckles)

I guess you are tired.

Yeah, I'm tired...

of painted-up,
empty-headed chicks like you.

What?

You're all alike.

And why do you have to keep

proving to yourself
that you're a woman?

Don't you know?

I know that you're
the rudest man

that I've ever met!

Bugs you, doesn't it?

(shrieks)

Hi, Billie. Did you meet Alan?

Yes!

Bobbie, you take my advice

and don't fall for him,
because he's already in love.

He is? Yes.

With himself.

What have you
got against the boy?

You haven't even met him.

(Well, A) I don't
trust big city fellows,

especially from New York.

(And B) I don't trust writers,

especially poets.

(And C) when you
put the two together,

you're gonna have
a lot of trouble.

Bobbie Jo says he's the first
boy with whom she ever had

an intellectual rapport.

Now, you see,
already you got trouble.

Uncle Joe, an
"intellectual rapport"

means a meeting of the minds.

Kate, Kate, you don't
know poets like I do.

Oh, where'd you ever
learn about poets?

From reading their
poetry, that's where.

Like what?

Like this.

"There was a young girl
from Duluth, who always..."

Uncle Joe, that isn't poetry.

What do you mean
it ain't? It rhymes.

Last line goes... I
don't want to hear it.

And I also don't want
to hear any more talk

against Bobbie Jo's poet friend.

I understand exactly
how she feels.

When I was a girl, I was in
love with Longfellow, Whittier,

Byron, Keats, Shelley...

All at the same time.

Yeah, but one big city
fella can be more dangerous

than them five local
boys put together.

BOBBIE JO: Mom?

In here, Bobbie Jo.

Mom, Uncle Joe,

I'd like you to meet
Alan Landman.

How do you do, Mr. Landman?

It's an honor to have you here.

(clears throat)

What kind of poems
you write, Alan?

My poetry is, uh...

a cry of anguish
in the tortured night.

Oh, you write jingles for
them indigestion commercials.

Uncle Joe!

Oh, no, no, I'm sure Mr. Landman

is way above anything
like commercial jingles.

Well, of course he is.

My poetry... is a
scream of protest.

I sound the alarm.

I hang the bell on the cat.

I shout in the atrophied
ear of a sleeping America.

Isn't that marvelous?

It's... wonderful.

You like it?

It's... absolutely fascinating,

inspirational.

You didn't understand
a word I said.

Not a word.

(bell clanging)

What a meal!

That Dutch apple
pie was lapping good.

Kate really outdone
herself tonight.

So did you.

You keep on eating like that,

and you're gonna have to
back up to a door to knock on it.

Oh, Uncle Joe,
stop teasing Charley.

He's not so fat.

I've seen people a lot fatter.

Yeah, me, too, but
I had to buy a ticket.

Mom... Yes?

Do I have to take part in
that silly poetry reading?

Oh, of course not, dear.

You can wash the dishes.

Oh, you know, I'd rather
wash the dishes than listen to

you know who.

Now that Mr. Landman is here,

we can start the
poetry discussion.

Be seated, everybody.

Now, I thought it'd be kind
of nice if each of us recited

a couple of lines
from our favorite poem.

And then I'm sure that
Mr. Landman will favor us

with one of his
original compositions.

You start it off, Kate.

You're already on your feet.

Take Charley an
hour to get to his.

This is from the Rubaiyat
of Omar Khayyam.

"Here with a loaf of
bread beneath the bough

"A flask of wine,
a book of verse

"And thou beside me
singing in the wilderness

And wilderness
is paradise enow."

Ain't that kind of risqué
for mixed company?

I don't think so.

They was just singing
and drinking a little wine.

But they're out
in the wilderness.

True.

But they could be
married; it don't say.

A man don't go out in
the woods with his wife.

Yeah, but he was
drinking wine, don't forget.

That's enough discussion.

Um, who else has some poetry?

You, Bobbie Jo?

Oh, I'd rather just
sit and listen, Mom.

How about you fellas?

Don't you have
some poetry you like?

Here's a little
poem I kind of like.

"I never seen a purple cow

"I never hope to see one

"But I can tell you anyhow

I'd rather see than be one."

(laughing)

Don't you get it?

Feller says he'd
rather see a purple cow

than be a purple cow.

CHARLEY: Well, naturally.

Who'd want to be a purple cow?

Come to think about
it, that ain't so funny.

I know a funny one.

"There was a young
girl from Duluth..."

Uh, uh...

I think the time has come
for our guest of honor,

Mr. Alan Landman
from New York City,

uh, to treat us to a
sample of real poetry.

(applause) Hear, hear

I, uh... be happy to
take part in this gig,

although, uh, I
don't know whether

I'm far enough out
for you cats or not.

This is, uh, my latest poem.

"A gut thin whining wind

"Defiles the groaning bones

"Of neon-blinded seekers

"After murky morning

"The burning mud explodes

"A screaming pathway

"To hollow thunder of agony

"I fall, I fall" And
cheated dreams

A toenail splits."

(snaps)

W...

Who would like to
start the discussion?

I think that was one of

the most exciting
poems I've ever heard.

Anybody else?

Uh, Floyd?

Did you have an
emotional reaction

from Mr. Landman's poem?

Yeah, but I think it's
the Dutch apple pie.

I'd like to know what it means,

if anything. So would I.

It means that
this is a cemetery.

And you're all corpses.

Good night.

Oh, Alan, wait for me!

Want a cigarette?

Sure.

(coughs)

The wind.

The wind's kind of chilly.

The wind is kind of chilly?

You know what E.I.
Boyer says about the wind?

What?

"The wind is a switchblade knife

"Slashing at the
polluting smokestacks

"Of urban insanity

Nature's rumble with the
defiling beetle called man."

Oh, I wish I could learn
to express myself like that.

Well, you'll never do
it around here, baby.

So long. I'm going for a walk.

Oh, can I come along?

Oh, please?

I mean, I won't
talk. I'll just listen.

Okay, kid.

(clears throat quietly)

Kate. Kate.

What? Who's sleeping?

It's 1:00. Why don't
you go on up to bed.

I'll wait up for Bobbie
Jo and that poet.

No, I-I want to see Bobbie
Jo when she comes in.

Well, in that case...

I don't think Bobbie Jo's
really serious about that boy.

Hmm.

When I was her age,

I nearly ran away
with a boy just like him.

That's what worries me.

Yeah, but Bobbie Jo... Shh!

Here they come.

Oh, what a terrible hand.

I ought to shoot you, Uncle Joe,

for giving me cards like this.

Oh, look who's here.

Sorry we're late.

Late? Is it late?

I didn't notice.

Mom, I know you're
waiting up for me.

Yes, I was.

Go to bed, honey.

I want to talk to Mr. Landman.

Okay, but I want you to know

that whatever he says,
I'm completely on his side.

Good night, Alan.

Good night, baby.

Good night, Uncle Joe.

Am I leaving?

Yes, you are.

Good nights, pops.

Uncle Joe, Mr. Landman
said good night to you.

He can't expect a corpse
to answer you back.

Especially when
its name isn't "pops."

Okay, I'm going to
save you a lot of time.

I'm crazy about Bobbie.

We've been talking
about me sending for her

when I get to New Orleans.

Uh-huh.

Is that all you're going to
do, just sit there and smile?

Smiling on the outside,
screaming on the inside.

Um, tell me something,
Mr. Landman...

In view of the circumstances,

don't you think you
should call me Alan?

In view of the circumstances,
what I should call you...

but I'll settle for Mr. Landman.

Uh, are you planning
on getting a job

when you go to New Orleans.

Are you kidding?

I mean, work is for suckers.

Oh, I see. I see.

How're you going to live?

Oh, I've got a lot of
friends down there.

Musicians.

They all like me.

They all have pads.

That means "rooms."

Thank you.

Then you plan
on living your life...

as a parasite.

That means "sponge."

Listen, this is
strictly nowhere.

You've got a lot of sick,

old-fashioned ideas
about working hard

and living clean, and
it's all a lot of junk.

I'm too tired to listen.

Now, Bobbie knows
what she's getting in to.

It sounds good to her.

I'll be taking off
in the morning.

Good night.

You heard that?

Yeah, it's bad.

What are you going to do?

I don't know.

Of course you realize
he'll be gone tomorrow.

He'll never send for
her. You know that.

I know that.

And she'll always remember him

as a romantic, young rebel

full of courage
and exciting ideas.

Yeah, I guess you're right.

Why don't you have
a good talk with her?

That's the worst
thing I could do.

We'd only wind up
yelling at each other

and he'd be a bigger
hero than ever to her.

No, talking to her about
it would be a big mistake.

Big mistake.

All those ideas of his

are just a cover-up
and an excuse

for being a failure,
for not having a job,

for just being a bum,

wandering around and
living off other people.

And you have been taken
in by all that phony talk.

And I am making a big mistake.

Oh, Mom, you just
don't understand Alan.

He... he has ideals.

Thinks the world
is full of hypocrisy

and he's attacking it.

That's a lot of hogwash.

He's just afraid to go
out and fight for a job.

But just let somebody offer him

a nice, soft position,
and you'll see

how fast he'll stop
attacking that hypocrisy,

and start lapping it up.

And now that I've
made my big mistake,

good night.

Your mother's just looking out

for your welfare, Bobbie Jo.

I suppose you
don't like Alan either.

No, but it's nothing personal.

He's been nice to me.
In fact, he told me I was

the biggest square
shooter he'd ever met.

Of course he took
a poetic license

and left out shooter.

This way, Mr. Stanley.

Thank you, Mrs. Bradley.

Oh, Uncle Joe, I'd like
you to meet Mr. Stanley.

He's going to spend a
couple of days with us,

get away from the high
pressure of big business.

Hi. Hello there.

This is my daughter, Bobbie Jo.

Hello, Mr. Stanley. Bobbie Jo.

You're leaving, Alan?

Yeah, kid, but you'll
be hearing from me.

Oh, Mr. Landman, you
should meet Mr. Stanley.

He's from New York, too.

Mr. Stanley, Mr. Landman.

How are you, young man?

You really want to know?

Mr. Stanley is the president

of the Rollo Dog Food Company.

He was telling me all about
his advertising problems.

It's driving me out of my mind.

I've offered a $2,000 bonus

for a jingle I can use
on radio and television

and no one in my agency
can come up with one.

$2,000 just for a jingle?

Just a four-line jungle.

Mr. Landman is a poet.

Oh, of course he only
writes high-class stuff.

Is that so?

$2,000?

I know what's going
on in your mind.

You do?

You think Alan's going to
be tempted by that $2,000

and try to sell Mr. Stanley
a dog food jingle.

Mm, I don't think
a superior artist

full of ideals would do that.

No, never.

By the way, I thought
your poet friend

was leaving this morning?

Well, he was, but he had to...

ALAN: Listen to
this one, Mr. Stanley.

"Rollo dog food is never gummy.

"Can't form a ball in
your puppy's tummy.

Rollo dog food is
doggone yummy."

Mm, it has human appeal,

but speaking from
the dog's viewpoint,

it doesn't make my tail wag.

Then how about this one.

"When your poodle's
feeling hollow,

fill him up with
a can of Rollo."

Mm...

Well, what's so wrong with Alan

wanting to earn $2,000
when you think about it?

Nothing at all.

It'll give him the freedom
to write real poetry.

Absolutely.

Besides, if you have a genuine

big talent like Alan
does, you can write

those silly jingles
without losing

any of your artistic dignity.

Never lose his dignity.

Because his talent's too big.

(door opens)

"Get some Rollo now, now, now.

Make sure dogs
say, "Bow-wow-wow!"

How was that for
real dog appeal?

Does that make your
tail wag, Mr. Stanley?

Mr. Landman, I'll be honest.

You have talent, all right,

but I just don't think
you talk dog language.

Well, forgive me
for saying it, sir,

but must your advertising
appeal to the dogs?

I mean, after all it is
the humans who buy it.

We've got to please the dog.

We cater to the dog.

We've got to sleep dog, eat dog,

think dog... understand?

Or do you think I'm crazy.

Oh, crazy, no, sir.

Oh, I know. You're
after the money.

Well, I'll pay
anything to the writer

you'll get inside the
dog's mind with me.

I'm in there, but I can't write.

I really think I can
do it given a little time.

Well, I don't know.

Dog persons are born, not made.

You've either got that
dog in you or you haven't.

And I say you can't
please a dog consistently

if you don't have
the dog's viewpoint.

I feel I really have it, sir.

STANLEY: I don't know.
You're tempted by the money.

No, really!

Dogs, they seem to
feel that I'm one of them.

They accept me.

Are you sure?

Sometimes they pretend
just to get food out of you.

No, no, it's sincere.

I warn you, you can't
fool a real dog person.

And I'm real dog, my boy.

I'll tell you something
confidential, may I?

Please.

When I see a cat, I
want to chase it up a tree.

Now you think I'm crazy, right?

No, on the contrary.

I've never told anyone, but...

I like to run after cars

(sotto voce) and
bite at the tires.

STANLEY: That's a good sign.

You're not lying?

I cross my heart and
hope to get run over.

This may be a
great day for Rollo.

I'd like to shake your... paw.

Bow-wow-wow. Arf-arf-arf.

(both barking)

Poor Bobbie Jo.

She sure is busted up.

Mmm, I wish somebody'd
invent a way to take

the pain out of growing up.

Boy, I can't get
over how lucky it was

that crazy dog food
man showing up here

just in time to show
up that Mr. Landman.

Wasn't that lucky, though?

It was amazing.

You might call it fate.

You might.

That's fate spelled K-A-T-E.

What's going on here?

Uncle Joe, meet Roger Stanley,

the best restaurant
supply salesman

in the country.
Restaurant supply?

He's new in this territory.

First time he was here,

you were in Pixley
with the girls.

Glad I could help you out, Kate.

Oh, you put him up
to the whole thing.

Yeah. You did a
wonderful job, Roger.

And anytime,

you are my guest here for free.

Oh, forget it.

I had a lot of fun.

Kind of a dirty trick
on that kid, though.

Oh, it'll do him more
good than harm.

Well, so long.

I'll see you the
next time through.

Bye, Roger. Thanks again.

And don't chase any cats.

Ruff!

(laughter) So long.

You know, Kate, I never realized

that you're a gall-dang genius.

Oh, no, Uncle Joe.

I'm just a gall-dang mother.

♪ Petticoat Junction. ♪

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Filmways Presentation.