Petticoat Junction (1963–1970): Season 2, Episode 10 - Kate's Bachelor Butter - full transcript

The Hooterville Cannonball is
anything but an express route,

but a new passenger
is taken aback

by Charley and
Floyd's frequent stops

for the purpose
of picking apples.

Well, it just so happens those
apples are the key ingredient

in a very special recipe which
is at the core of this episode

saluting the culinary skills of
the Shady Rest's matriarch.

From December 8, 1964,

let's watch "Kate's
Bachelor Butter."

(train whistle blows)

♪ 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)

(brakes squealing)

Conductor, what-what did he hit?

Nothing.

Is this, uh, is this Pixley?

Does it look like Pixley?

I don't know.

I've never been to Pixley.

A conductor has to answer
more silly questions...

Hey, that looks all right.

I ain't interested in
how they look to you.

The only opinion
that counts is Kate's.

Size is right.

Heft's good.

If you don't stop...

Shh! Kate's concentrating.

Mm!

It's perfect!

Hooray! Hooray!

Floyd, let's pick apples.

Hey. Hi, Joe.

Hi, Joe.

Now, you ought to be
more careful, you big ox.

For crying out loud.

Oh, I'm sorry, Uncle Joe.

I didn't know you were there.

What's going on?

Oh, the same thing that goes on

every year about this time.

The apples are just
right for bachelor butter.

I knew it had to do with
getting something free

to get them two big tubs
of lard moving that fast.

Oh, they look forward to it.

Kate, it ain't right.

Charley and Floyd, Sam Drucker,

Doc and all the rest of
them imposing on you.

Well, they're not
imposing on me.

You know something?

I think I enjoy making
bachelor butter for them

as much as they enjoy eating it.

And you enjoy it, too.

Yeah, but in the whole 20
years you've been doing it,

you've never seen me
making a fool out of myself,

climbing all over Ben's trees

and picking apples,
lugging them up here,

bringing you empty jars to fill.

No, I never have.

You want to know why?

Mm-hmm.

Because I've got self respect.

Oh, that's the reason.

Yeah.

I'm a bachelor
like they are, too,

but you don't catch me
playing on your sympathies,

making you slave
in the kitchen all day

neglecting your other work,

just so I can have a few
jars of homemade preserves.

Kate, why do you do it?

Well, them being bachelors,

they don't have any womenfolk
to home cook for them.

And besides, it's a way
of showing my appreciation

for all the nice
things they do for me.

What do they do for you?

Well, Floyd and Charley
take the girls to school.

They run me into town.

They steer
salesmen to the hotel.

Doc Stewart never
sends me a bill,

and Sam lets me run up my
credit way beyond good sense.

But outside of that,
what do they do for you?

Well, that's going to
take a little thought.

Uh, Conductor, this
train is going backwards.

How about that?

And some folks accuse us

of running an
old-fashioned railroad.

Yeah, but we're
going to Hooterville.

I'm supposed to be
in Pixley at 10:00.

Then don't travel during
bachelor butter season.

(whistle blows)

Doc, did you hear the whistle?

Yeah.

Yeah.

Well, grab all your empty
jars and come a-runnin'.

(train whistle blows)

(whistle blows)

Excuse me.

Say, do you have any
idea how much longer

we're going to have to be here?

Well, just guessing, I'd
say three more bushels.

Conductor, I have to
be in Pixley this morning.

I'll be lucky if I get
there late tonight.

Or early tomorrow morning,

depending on how soon Kate
finishes the bachelor butter.

If I was you, I'd
depend on staying over

at the Shady Rest Hotel.

This is sheer idiocy!

Disrupting a railroad
to pick apples!

Mister, any more
of that radical talk

and you're going to
be put off of this train.

(arguing indistinctly)

Boys, boys, now stop that.

Instead of squabbling,
just tell Uncle Joe

how many jars
you've got and he'll see

that you'll get back
what's due you.

Yeah, just line up right here.

All right, Sam,
how many you got?

Twenty two. Twenty two?

There won't be no
butter for the rest of us.

Well, 12 is Doc's.

Why didn't he come himself?

He had to take out
Lou Dawson's appendix.

Lou had all year
to have it took out.

You know, that bachelor
butter your mother makes

must be something pretty
special to cause all that excitement.

I wish some of our
food products did.

What kind of firm
do you travel for?

HDL Food Products.

We put out all sorts
of canned goods.

KATE: Betty Jo,
get your sisters.

Bobbie Jo!

Billie Jo!

Mom wants us!

(sighing)

A woman's work is never done.

I thought I put the
paraffin on the top shelf.

Now, when the alarm
goes off in 16 minutes,

the apples will
be boiled enough.

Mom, how can you tell

if that thing's set
for the right time?

I've been making bachelor
butter with this clock

since before you
girls were born,

and when I set
it for 16 minutes,

it goes off in 16 minutes.

(alarm sounds)

Most of the time.

Hold it.

What's the matter?

I never saw such
sloppy rockers in my life.

You should rock
to and fro together.

Ain't we?

No.

When I'm fro-ing you're to-ing.

When I'm to-ing, you're fro-ing.

Now, let's do it right.

One, two, three.

This sure is a
strain every year.

Kate should be sieving
the apples by now.

She's past sieving.

Not by railroad time.

Smells to me like she's
just heating up the cider.

Ooh, cider's boiled
down enough, Billie Jo.

Mom, how much longer?

Now, now, now.
Just keep stirring.

There we go.

Bobbie Jo, sugar.

There.

That should be sweet enough.

But how do you
know without tasting it?

If I tasted everything I cooked,

I'd be as big as this stove.

And you girls better remember
that when you get married

and you start cooking
for your husbands.

Yeah, I suppose if you
put on too much weight,

romance goes right out the door.

Mm-hmm. And you
can't squeeze out after it.

Now for the ground cloves.

Seriously, Mom.

I've watched you every
time you made this recipe

and I can't figure it out.

How much sugar
did you really put in?

Five scoops and a
sprinkle and be accurate.

Accurate?

Yeah, accurate.

Floyd.

What's the matter?

Joe heard something.

I think I heard the
oven door open.

(clattering)

That was the oven!

Get a spoon, Bobbie Jo.

Bobbie Jo's getting a spoon.

Kate's going to taste it.

How many years you been
freeloading bachelor butter?

20 or so.

Then you ought to know
the first thing Kate does

is to find out if
it's thick enough.

A-OK.

The thickness is right.

Now they're going to taste it.

(smacking lips)

Billie Jo?

It got past Kate.

(smacking lips)

Bobbie Jo.

Sounds like Bobbie Jo's tasting.

(smacking lips)

Sounds like Betty
Jo's getting in her licks.

Somebody else is tasting.

It's more than tasting.

It's kind of slurping.

(slurping)

Yummy.

Bobbie Jo? Delicious, Mom.

Kate's polling the jury.

Betty Jo? Dreamy.

How about you?

(barking)

I now declare this year's
batch of bachelor butter

ready for eating.

(clanking) Hey!

Do you know, Mrs. Bradley,

after tasting your
bachelor butter,

I can see what all the
excitement was about last night.

Well, thank you, Mr. Crandall.

Would you like to have a
jar to take home with you?

Well, that would be wonderful.

Wait a minute.

You a bachelor?

No, I'm not.

Then that will be a dollar.

Uncle Joe.

You know the rule, Kate.

Free to bachelors if
they provide their own jar.

I don't suppose
you got your own jar.

No.

Then that will be a
dollar and a quarter.

In spite of what Uncle Joe says,

you may have a jar
with my compliments.

Well, actually,
I'd like two jars.

Boy, Charley and Floyd

could take freeloading
lessons from him.

Uncle Joe,
Mr. Crandall is our guest.

You can have as
many jars as you want.

Two will be fine.

I have an idea about
this bachelor butter.

It's delicious.

I've never tasted
anything like it.

Do you agree with
Kimberly, Stevens?

Yes, I certainly do.

Gentlemen, do you think we
could produce this commercially?

If Mrs. Bradley will show
us how she makes it,

we'll have it in
production in a month.

Good. I'll write Mrs. Bradley
immediately and make an offer.

Oh, uh, pardon me.

You see, Mrs. Bradley
gave me this personally.

"and the enclosed
check for $250..."

Two hundred...
And fifty... Dollars!

Wowee!

"to evidence our good faith.

"Upon delivery and
satisfactory preparation

"of your bachelor butter recipe,

we will pay you
an additional $250."

That's five...
Hundred... Dollars.

"Please advise us
if this is acceptable

"and we will arrange
transportation to our factory

for you and hotel
accommodations."

Gee, well, you're
going to accept the offer,

aren't you, Mom? Well...

Hey, hold on a minute.
Let me see the check.

Who is this fella
Jenkins that signed it?

Well, it says right here,
he's the comptroller.

Yeah, but how do you
know that's his signature?

He should have sent
along some identification.

You know, you can't
be too careful, Kate.

Oh, I'm sure it's all right.

Well, what are you
going to do, Mom?

I'm going to make some
more of this stove polish.

This is the last of it.

I mean about the offer.

You're going to go.

Of course she is.

How can I go and leave
you girls in the hotel?

Uncle Joe will be here.

I ought to go along with you

and see that they
don't pull no fast ones.

Uh, they said they'd only
send Mom's transportation.

Probably afraid to have me come.

I reckon that Crandall told
them about my shrewd reputation.

Well, I don't know what to do.

Gosh, Mom. All that money?

Oh, yeah, Mom. You've got to go.

I know. Let's put
it to a family vote.

All those in favor, say "aye."

GIRLS: Aye!

Aye. BOBBIE JO:
Okay, it's unanimous.

BETTY JO: Wait a minute.

There's still one
member of the family

who hasn't voted yet.

What do you think?

(barks)

Now it's unanimous.

How did he get a
jar of bachelor butter?

I gave it to him.

After all, he's a bachelor.

Well, aren't you?

And, uh, and you've never
written down the recipe, huh?

I never write down
any of my recipes.

Oh!

What do I have to wear this for?

I brought my own apron.

Well, we have to work under
the most sanitary of conditions.

My apron is as clean as this.

What we have to
do, Mrs. Bradley,

is make up a sample
batch of your bachelor butter,

then we'll record
the ingredients

in their exact proportions.

Okay.

Now, what do you need first?

Well, a kettle.

How many gallons?

Oh, about, um, so many.

How's this?

Yeah, that's fine.

That's about right? Yeah.

All right. Now, what
is the first step?

We got to boil the water.

How many liters?

No liters.

Just water and apples.

A liter is 1.0567 quarts.

Oh, quarts.

(both laughing)

Why didn't you say so?

I'm sorry.

How many quarts
of water do you use?

You fill the pot to
the top of the dent.

What dent?

The dent that's been in it
ever since the train hit it.

The, uh, train?

Yeah.

The day of the picnic.

Uncle Joe left it standing
in the middle of the tracks

loaded with soda pop and Charley
nudged it with the cowcatcher.

Now, just where was this dent?

Well, right about there.

I see. Oh.

Uh, right about there?

Uh-huh.

(banging)

Well, it isn't as deep as
the one the train made,

but it'll do.

Come on. All right.

Now that we've
washed the apples,

we've got to cut
them in quarters.

I see.

And then when the water boils,

we dump them in
and add the sugar.

How much sugar?

Well, it depends on
how tart the apples are.

Well, how do you determine that?

By the pucker test.

I beg your pardon?

Well, you bite into the apple

and you see how much
your mouth puckers

and then you know
how much sugar to use.

Oh, well, you see,

this is a two-scoop-
and-a-sprinkle pucker.

A little more.

That's right.

Now, this is a-a three-scoop-
and-a-smidgeon batch.

And this here is a
five-scooper-and-a-dab.

Mrs. Bradley, we're going

to have to be a little
more scientific than that,

measure the
tartness by instrument.

You mean you got some kind
of gadget that makes sour faces?

Now, we put the
apples through the sieve,

boiled down the cider
and added it to the puree.

Now, what's the next step?

Seasoning.

I'll need, um, nutmeg, allspice,

cinnamon, and ground cloves.

All right. Here you are. Oh.

Now, do you, uh, do you
add these in any special order?

Well, I usually start
with the ground cloves.

And how much do you use?

Well, let's see now.

This was a scoop and a
half and a smidgeon batch.

Uh, about half a jar.

A quart jar?

No, an Ingledorf mayonnaise jar.

How big is a, uh, a... it?

Well, Ingledorf always
uses the same size.

It's, um, it's bigger
than a small relish jar,

but, uh, smaller than a-a
medium-size pickle jar.

Maybe we can, uh, pick one up.

Oh, I doubt it.

Ingledorf's been out
of business for years.

Maybe you could
kind of guess at it?

Well, I could try.

But-But it won't be as accurate

as if I had my
Ingledorf jar here.

Now, before you
season the puree,

hadn't we better set the oven?

Uh, how many degrees
Fahrenheit do you bake it at?

I-I never degreed it.

When the oven's right,
I just stick the puree in.

Well, you must have some
way of measuring how hot it is.

Oh, sure.

Well, now we're
getting somewhere.

Oh, I-I always know
when the oven is right

because the dog usually
rolls over on his back

and sleeps with
his paws in the air.

It isn't very good, is it?

Frankly, Mrs. Bradley,

it isn't up to the sample
that Mr. Crandall brought in.

Well, how could it be?

Cooking in here is like cooking

in the operating room
at the county hospital.

You know, you might
keep germs out of here,

but you sure don't
let any friendliness in.

And-And how can I
cook on a stove like that?

Can't wear my own apron.

I can't do this...
Now, now, now, now.

Take it easy, Mrs. Bradley.

We never expect things

to turn out exactly
right the first time.

It's not going to turn out right

the second time, the third time,

or any time, Mr. Crandall.

I just can't cook
under these conditions.

I got to have my own pots,

my own stove, my own dog.

Easy, easy.

Watch it.

If you're not satisfied with
the way we're doing this job,

we'll be glad to
let you take over.

I got to get the rest of
this stuff on Kate's list.

See, there's pots, sieve,

Ingledorf mayonnaise jar.

I know'd I should
have gone along.

She probably ruined that whole
$500 deal I dickered up for her.

As soon as you boys get
that stove loaded on the train,

you come back up and
I'll have the rest of this stuff

loaded ready to take down.

Have it ready for
us to haul down?

What does he think...

What's the matter with you?

Stove's rested on my foot!

Well, for crying out loud.

Why didn't you say so?

'Cause you always holler at me
when I interrupt a conversation.

Dented kettle.

Sieve.

Clock.

Ingledorf mayonnaise jar.

Dog.

Well, I guess that's everything.

Now, if one of you
fellas will fill that kettle

up to the dent,
we'll get to boiling.

Uh, oh, Mr. Kimberly,

are you sure that
stovepipe's fixed snug?

Yes, it's fitted right into
the air-conditioning duct.

Now, if you need any more wood,

we still have half of
Mr. Crandall's desk chair

and a hat rack.

I, uh, I don't
think we'll need it.

The stove's starting
to warm up all right.

How old is this stove, anyway?

Oh, it's been in my
family for 65 years.

How do you keep
it looking so new?

Rub it down twice a
week with my stove polish.

(grunting)

There's the water.

Now, what's next?

Got to get started
with the apples.

Okay, Billie...
uh, Mr. Kimberly.

Start tossing.

If the boys at MIT
could only see me now.

Bobbie Jo usually
does the quartering,

but I didn't want to take
the girls out of school.

Now this is exactly what
goes on in your home

when you make bachelor
butter, Mrs. Bradley, huh?

Not quite.

There's just one more thing.

Okay, fellas, start rocking.

Now, as soon as this boils down,

we'll make the puree, spice
it up and stick it in the oven.

Is the oven hot enough yet?

Not yet.

Hey, fellas, we ain't
rocking together.

It don't make no difference.

Rock freehand.

I sure feel silly

sitting out here in
a hallway, rocking.

I do, too, but we're
doing it for Kate.

Now the puree's done.

Now all we got to do
is pour it in the crock

and stick it in the oven.

Is the oven hot enough?

It's perfect.

Hold it.

I think I heard the oven door.

Thank goodness. Now
we can get out of here.

Ain't we going to listen at
the door like we always do?

What for?

Well?

That's pretty good.

It isn't good at all.

Sorry, Mr. Crandall.

It just isn't going to work.

I don't understand
it, Mrs. Bradley.

We brought everything
you asked for.

The stove, your pots,
your dog, your friends...

All except the most
important thing.

The anticipation.

What? Yeah.

The fun the fellas have

looking forward to my
bachelor butter every year.

You know, watching
the apples turn just ripe,

picking them, squabbling
over whose jar is whose.

Me and the girls trying to
make every batch the best.

Well, those are the things
that are missing in this.

I think I understand,
Mrs. Bradley.

We could probably
come pretty close

to making your bachelor
butter at the factory,

but it would always lack
that one essential ingredient

you give it: love.

Yeah. That's just
about the size of it.

I'm sorry.

Come on, Fahrenheit.

Oh, if you boys will
come by the Shady Rest

about this time next year,
and bring your own jars,

I'll fill them up with the best
bachelor butter you ever tasted.

You can stop rocking, fellas.

We're going home.

Good. Hooray!

I'm glad to hear that.

I wouldn't trade my stove
for ten of those fancy cookers

with all their doodads
and gimcracks.

Oh, Mom, you're
just old-fashioned.

Mom, we're awful sorry the
way everything turned out.

So am I, honey.

We could have used that money.

Don't worry.

Uncle Joe will come
up with something.

JOE: Kate! Kate!

Sounds like he already has.

Yeah, that sounds like his

"Hey, I'm going to make
you a millionaire" voice.

Kate, I'm going to
make you a millionaire.

This letter just come
from Mr. Crandall.

He sent back the
check you returned.

He wants you to keep it.

Well, I can't do that.

Sure, you can. He wants
to make you another deal.

My bachelor butter
recipe is not for sale.

Oh, he don't want that.

Nor my strawberry preserves,

my gooseberry jelly,
or my apricot jam.

He don't want them, either.

He's offering you $500 for
the formula to your stove polish.

What?

Says right here in the letter,

he never seen anything
that cleans stoves like this.

Oh, Uncle Joe.

It don't take no picking, no
jar shoving, no rocking, no...

(glass shattering)

No, all it takes is... mopping.

♪ Petticoat Junction. ♪

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