Petticoat Junction (1963–1970): Season 3, Episode 1 - Dear Minerva - full transcript
Sam has introduced a new column in the newspaper: an advice column called Dear Minerva, with Sam secretly being said Minerva. Kate thinks the advice Sam is doling out is all wrong and comes up with better advice to the letter writers. Kate's advice is exactly what Sam was hoping as he wanted a woman to take over the column. He convinces Kate to be Minerva, she agreeing only on the condition that no one knows it's her. The plan is for Kate to type the columns at the hotel, with Dog being the messenger between Sam and Kate. Kate has a difficult time trying to find a place in the hotel where she can type her columns without anyone finding out. She manages to get the job done and the column becomes a big hit, but typing the columns in peace while still attending to her hotel duties and the needs of the family takes its toll on her. Kate finds out in a roundabout way what effect her column writing is having on life at the hotel, and she has to decide if the grief is worth the big time proposal she receives.
♪ Come ride the little train ♪
♪ That is rollin' down the
tracks to the Junction ♪
♪ Forget about your cares ♪
♪ It is time to relax
at the Junction ♪
♪ Lots of curves, you bet ♪
♪ And even more when you get ♪
♪ To the Junction ♪
♪ Petticoat Junction ♪
♪ 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! ♪
♪♪
"Dear Undecided,
You sure have a
humdinger of a problem."
Morning, Sam.
"My advice to you is..."
Oh, dag nab this
blasted machine.
Morning, Sam.
Oh, morning, Kate.
I'll be with you in a minute.
Oh, that's all right.
I can help myself.
"My advice to you is
"stop seeing the poor, young,
"hard-working,
good-looking fellow
"and start going out with
the ugly, old, rich gink.
"Remember, money
cannot buy happiness,
"but it can sure make misery
a lot more enjoyable."
- There.
- Sam, Sam...
This isn't any of my business,
but you're not
writing that advice
- to your nice little niece?
- Oh, no, no.
This is a new column
for the newspaper.
Oh.
Yeah, I-I needed something
to boost the World
Guardian's circulation.
Well, last month we
were clear up to 82 copies,
and this month we're down to 43.
And what's the reason for that?
Well, for one thing,
I stopped printing
Happy Hooligan
on the comic page.
That'd do it.
Well, let's see.
"Dear Minerva, I
am desperate..."
Who's Minerva?
Me.
Who does your hair, Minerva?
Now, Kate, I'm up against
a deadline with this column.
Oh, ho, ho!
You women newspapermen
are sure touchy.
"Dear Minerva, I am desperate.
"My well has run dry,
"the bank is foreclosing
the mortgage on my farm,
"the locusts have eaten my barn,
"and my horse has hay fever.
What shall I do?
Signed, Wit's End."
"Dear Wit's End," Have no fear.
Your problem has
a simple solution."
Simple solution?
"Just burn down the
farmhouse, collect the insurance,
and take off for South America."
Sam, what kind
of advice is that?
What's wrong with it?
Well, you just
can't tell somebody
to burn down their
property and run away.
I can't?
What other outlandish advice
have you been giving
to these poor souls?
Well, now, here's one
that's really got me stumped.
This one is from Lonely.
She writes, "I am a widow
"with nothing in the
world but $3 million.
Can you help me find a man who
needs me as much as I need him?"
Lonely, meet Wit's End.
Well, I'll be doggoned!
Why didn't I think of that?
Well, because, Minerva,
you're not a woman.
Well, what's that
got to do with it?
Because, women are
sensitive about things like that.
And when you get right
down to it, they're practical.
You mean a woman should
write the "Dear Minerva" column?
Of course.
That's what I've been
hoping you'd say.
Fans, meet Minerva.
Me?
Oh, just a second.
I can't give advice.
You just did.
You're perfect for the job.
I don't know why I
didn't think of you before.
Oh, no, Sam. I'm too busy.
I got my three girls, I
got the hotel to run...
That's just it.
You've been solving
people's problems for years,
just being you.
Oh, Sam, stop
and think about it.
Th-The folks in this
valley aren't gonna send
their personal problems
to Kate Bradley.
Well, it could be our secret.
You could type the
column at the hotel,
and bring it down here,
and nobody'd never
know who Minerva is.
I-I just don't have time,
running back and
forth delivering columns.
We could get
somebody else to bring it.
Then it won't be a secret.
Well, it would if we could get
somebody who wouldn't talk.
There isn't such a
person in this valley.
Yes, there is.
- Who?
- Him.
How about it, boy?
You want to get in
the newspaper game?
Hi, Mom.
I thought you
were taking a bath.
I forgot my towel.
Oh.
What are you doing
to my typewriter?
What typewriter?
The one in your hands.
Oh!
Oh, oh, that typewriter.
I was, um, gonna take it
down to the kitchen and dust it.
Your "Z" s are awful fuzzy.
Oh, I just cleaned it yesterday.
Well, you know how "Z" s are.
They're just dust collectors.
They're even worse
than "B"s, or "X"s,
or, well, you're gonna
be late for your date.
I don't have a date tonight.
You don't?
No, I'm going to bed early.
Oh, fine.
Well, then you won't want a
noisy typewriter in your room.
Mom.
I'll help you carry
that upstairs.
I'm not going upstairs.
You're not? Well,
you're facing...
Well, just 'cause
a person is facing
doesn't mean that they're going.
Mom! Are you all right?
Look, why don't you go
and do your homework?
Well, I don't
feel like doing it.
I've got something
more important to do.
Like what?
Well, I've got to write
out the batting order
for the Hooterville Hawks
for tomorrow's game.
Homework is more
important than batting orders!
Well, I need the typewriter
for my homework.
Like I was saying,
batting orders
are more important
than homework.
Mom, are you serious?
Now, would you get going
before I change my mind?
Ooh! I'm sorry, Uncle Joe.
Kate, you ought to
have somebody help you
carry that heavy machine.
I don't need any help.
Of course you do.
Girls!
Never mind.
I can manage without the girls.
Where you goin' with that?
To the kitchen.
What are you gonna do with it?
Why is everybody so nosy?!
Now, then.
Listen to this.
"Dear Minerva,
"I am in love with
a shoe salesman
"who doesn't know I'm alive.
"Every day, I buy
a pair of shoes
"just so he'll notice me.
"Now I have 20 pairs of shoes
"and he still hasn't
given me a tumble.
What should I do?
Signed, Lovesick."
"Dear Lovesick,
"Either get another boyfriend,
or find a centipede who's
tired of going barefoot."
After all, this is
just my first batch.
Someone's coming.
Hello, Bobbie Jo.
I thought I heard a
typewriter down here.
A typewriter?
What would I be
doing with a typewriter?
But I heard something clicking.
Oh, it-it must have been this.
I'm, uh, knitting a sweater.
With an ice pick?
It's for cold weather.
Where's the yarn?
Well, anybody
can knit with yarn.
You and your jokes.
It was just that old
woodpecker again.
It was the woodpecker!
Huh?
Uh, never mind.
Kate, do you mind?
I want to get in the icebox.
What for?
To make myself a
chicken sandwich.
Oh, you shouldn't be
eating at this time of night.
I always eat at
this time of night.
Been doin' it for 20 years.
Well, but d-didn't your hear
the speech the president made
about the dangers of inflation?
I just eat.
Whatever happens after
that's none of my business.
Yeah, but you got 20 years
of unfinished
business right there.
Now, you go on up and go to bed.
It's very bad for
you to eat at night.
Can't a man have a sandwich?
Have a glass of
water. That'll fill you up.
Good night, Uncle Joe.
Night, dear.
♪♪
Hi, Mom.
Is the stove hot?
Don't touch that!
Oh, I want to dry
my baseball shirt.
Well, you can dry
it somewhere else.
It'll dry quick in the oven.
Hang it in the bathroom.
Well, Mom, you've
always told us girls
not hang our personal
stuff in the bathroom
because of the guests.
Will you stop
listening to your mother
and listen to your mother?
Stop listening to
you and listen to you?
Well... y-you can't dry it
in the oven, and that's final.
Why don't you want
me to open the oven?
Have you got something in there?
No!
Then why can't I open the door?
Because I have a
typewriter in there, that's why.
A typewriter?
A typewriter.
Oh, Mom, you're too much.
You're whipping up some
sort of surprise, aren't you?
Well, you might call it that.
Well, whatever it is,
it sure smells good.
I'm gonna have to type it over.
What a shame.
'Cause now it's
a real hot column.
"Signed...: Min... er... va."
I want you to take
this to Hooterville
and deliver it to Sam
Drucker personally.
Understand?
And remember, if anybody
finds out that I'm Minerva,
you're gonna be back in Alaska,
pulling a sled for
Nanook of the North.
Come on.
All right, boy, carry the mail.
♪♪
♪♪
"Dear Undecided,
"My advice is to
marry the astronomer.
At least you'll know
where he is nights."
Oh, I don't agree with Minerva.
She should've told Miss
Undecided to marry the banker.
If I were Minerva, I'd have
told her to marry a ballplayer.
Wouldn't you, Mom?
- Mom?
- What?
Would you prefer the
astronomer or the ballplayer?
Well, I'll have
a little of both.
Mom, we're talking
about Minerva's column.
My nervous what?
Listen to this.
"Dear Minerva.
"I am a hardworking
man, on my feet
"from 6:00 in the
morning till midnight.
"But my niece is
always complaining
that I never work enough."
Poor guy.
I know just how he feels.
Go ahead, uh,
share the rest of it.
"What can I do about
it? Signed, Joe C."
Mom, did you hear that?
She's asleep again.
- Mom!
- What?
Mom, you were asleep.
Oh, I was not.
Yes, you were.
Heard every word you said.
What did we say?
Y-You said I was asleep,
that's what you said.
I haven't got
breakfast started yet.
Go on.
Breakfast ready, Kate?
Good morning.
Pardon me.
Hey, there's Betty Jo's dog!
Oh!
Never mind the dog!
Mind what you're doing.
Bye, little friend.
Good boy.
I got to hand it to you.
We're into our third week
and nobody's got wise.
- Hi, fellas.
- Hi, Sam.
Hey, what time's the
paper coming out?
Yeah, we want to
read Minerva's column.
If folks'll stop pestering me,
it'll be out at
its regular time.
Sam, who is this Minerva anyhow?
Is she from around here?
Oh, she's too smart
to be from around here.
She's got to live in
Boston or Philadelphia.
You're right about that, Floyd.
For once.
Hey, what's he doing here?
- Who?
- The dog.
He was back at the Shady
Rest when we pulled out.
He beat the train in.
What's so unusual about that?
Wonder if Kate knows he's gone.
Maybe we ought to take him back.
Oh, no, I wouldn't do that.
He might have business in town.
What kind of business would
a dog be having in town?
If you want to know,
ask him. I ain't nosy.
Come on, Charley, we got to
get that crate to the grain store.
Ooh, hot ziggity.
This ought to boost
circulation another five readers.
Here's a batch for Minerva.
There. Hear it?
Mom's at it again.
What on earth
could she be writing?
She's been at it for weeks.
A novel, maybe.
Use your head.
Why would she keep it a secret
if she were writing a novel?
Maybe it's the story of my life.
Like... like...
Like, the big day you had the
braces taken off of your teeth?
I've got it!
She's carrying on a secret
correspondence with a man.
It explains everything.
Writing at night, going
around dead on her feet all day.
Like Elizabeth Barrett
and Robert Browning.
Do they live around here?
The poet.
You mean Mom's
writing to a poet?
Oh, skip it.
I wonder who it could be.
Stay there a minute.
Sam Drucker speaking.
Who'd you say it was, Sarah?
What eagle?
I don't know any eagles.
Oh! The big city newspaper?
Yeah, put him on.
It's long distance.
Yeah, th-this is the editor
of The Hooterville
World Guardian.
Well, thank you.
We think Minerva's
column's pretty good, too.
You want to what it?
Oh-oh, syndicate.
In-in 46 papers.
Well, our circulation's
almost twice that.
Oh-oh, 46 different papers.
Well, gee, I don't know.
I'd have to ask her.
Can I call you back?
Yes, sir.
Thank you, Mr. Haskins.
Stick around.
I got to dash off a real
special note to Kate.
- Bye, now.
- Bye.
Oh, there you are,
you little scamp.
Come here.
Hey, what's that
stuck to your collar?
A little tighter.
- Mom is in love!
- What?
And not with a poet.
It's Sam Drucker.
Oh! Not that tight!
And how do you know?
Because this was
attached to the dog's collar.
Listen.
"Dear Kate,
"Our little secret is
working out just fine.
"I've got a proposal to make
to you about you know what.
"I'm so happy for both
of us, I could kiss you.
Devotedly, Sam Drucker."
- Wow!
- Wow!
Wow!
What's all the commotion?
Uncle Joe, you'll
never guess... Hold it.
Uncle Joe, you better sit down.
Just sit right down
here, Uncle Joe.
Make yourself
comfortable. That's good.
You know how strange
Mom's been acting lately?
How she's been
sneaking my typewriter
out of my room
and writing all night?
And you know who
she's been writing to?
And who's gonna propose to her?
And who can hardly
wait to kiss her?
Who? Who?
Sam Drucker!
I better sit down.
Mr. Drucker's
gonna be our father.
And he'll be your nephew.
Man my age don't want
no bald-headed nephew.
Well, gee, if Mom and
Mr. Drucker are in love,
well, why all the secrecy?
If I was in love
with Sam Drucker,
I'd sure keep it a secret.
And sending notes
back and forth by the dog.
Why don't they just
come right out and...
I know. Maybe she thinks
we wouldn't approve.
There must be some reason
why they're hiding
it from everybody.
What could it be?
Well, she couldn't be
worried about one of us.
We're all grown up.
There's only one way
to find out about this:
ask the one person who
can give us the answer.
Dear Minerva!
Ha!
"And so now we understand
why our mother has been so cranky
"with us, and is always
tired and run down.
"It's not right for us
girls to stand in her way
to marry the man she loves."
That's a real
knee-slapper, Kate.
Imagine the girls thinking you
and me are planning to get...
Now, now, Sam, it isn't funny.
You know, while Minerva
is being a big shot in print,
Kate Bradley has been tired
and worn out, run
down and cranky.
Didn't realize I'd been
neglecting the girls.
Yeah, but think what it'll mean
to have your column syndicated.
You'll be a celebrity.
Why, people will be
after you for autographs.
There'll be parties.
You'll be making speeches.
Sam, I'm about to make one now.
This is what I call a
real dinner for a change.
- Little more of that white meat.
- Mm.
There you go.
And the dark.
Not to, um, mention dressing?
Yeah, a little of that, too.
And more mashed
potatoes, Uncle Joe?
Uh-huh.
And not too easy on the gravy.
That's right.
And some more biscuits
and strawberry jam,
huh, Uncle Joe?
Notice how I'm cutting down?
Oh, yes, yes, I have.
Uh, I believe that that's
the smallest fourth helping
I've ever seen you take.
Hey, girls, the paper's in!
Read Minerva's column.
G-Girls, don't you think we
ought to wait till after dinner?
We just want to take a peek.
Is it in? Is it in?
It's here!
The letter from Worried Sisters.
Read Minerva's answer.
"Dear Worried Sisters
and all my nice readers..."
Oh, this is terrible!
Oh, no!
What is it?
She can't! She just can't!
She can't what? Betty Jo,
either read it or give it to me.
Oh!
Oh, Mom, you read it.
I can't.
"Dear Worried Sisters
and all my nice readers,
This is my last column."
Um, "Before I say
good-bye, I'd like to tell
"the Worried
Sisters, stop worrying.
"Your mother doesn't
sound like the type to carry on
"a secret romance.
"If she wanted to marry her
old friend the storekeeper,
you'd be the first
to hear about it."
Yeah.
You know, that
Minerva sure is wise.
I guess it's because
she's so old.
Why is she giving up the column?
Oh, well...
Minerva says, um, "My
readers have helped me
"more than I have
ever helped them.
"And if there's anybody
who really needs
"to follow Minerva's advice,
it's yours truly, Minerva."
Did you hear that, Uncle Joe?
Minerva isn't gonna
write her column anymore.
That's no loss.
You know who could
write a better column
than that Minerva woman?
Who?
Your mother.
♪ Petticoat Junction. ♪
This has been a
Filmways Presentation.
♪ That is rollin' down the
tracks to the Junction ♪
♪ Forget about your cares ♪
♪ It is time to relax
at the Junction ♪
♪ Lots of curves, you bet ♪
♪ And even more when you get ♪
♪ To the Junction ♪
♪ Petticoat Junction ♪
♪ 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! ♪
♪♪
"Dear Undecided,
You sure have a
humdinger of a problem."
Morning, Sam.
"My advice to you is..."
Oh, dag nab this
blasted machine.
Morning, Sam.
Oh, morning, Kate.
I'll be with you in a minute.
Oh, that's all right.
I can help myself.
"My advice to you is
"stop seeing the poor, young,
"hard-working,
good-looking fellow
"and start going out with
the ugly, old, rich gink.
"Remember, money
cannot buy happiness,
"but it can sure make misery
a lot more enjoyable."
- There.
- Sam, Sam...
This isn't any of my business,
but you're not
writing that advice
- to your nice little niece?
- Oh, no, no.
This is a new column
for the newspaper.
Oh.
Yeah, I-I needed something
to boost the World
Guardian's circulation.
Well, last month we
were clear up to 82 copies,
and this month we're down to 43.
And what's the reason for that?
Well, for one thing,
I stopped printing
Happy Hooligan
on the comic page.
That'd do it.
Well, let's see.
"Dear Minerva, I
am desperate..."
Who's Minerva?
Me.
Who does your hair, Minerva?
Now, Kate, I'm up against
a deadline with this column.
Oh, ho, ho!
You women newspapermen
are sure touchy.
"Dear Minerva, I am desperate.
"My well has run dry,
"the bank is foreclosing
the mortgage on my farm,
"the locusts have eaten my barn,
"and my horse has hay fever.
What shall I do?
Signed, Wit's End."
"Dear Wit's End," Have no fear.
Your problem has
a simple solution."
Simple solution?
"Just burn down the
farmhouse, collect the insurance,
and take off for South America."
Sam, what kind
of advice is that?
What's wrong with it?
Well, you just
can't tell somebody
to burn down their
property and run away.
I can't?
What other outlandish advice
have you been giving
to these poor souls?
Well, now, here's one
that's really got me stumped.
This one is from Lonely.
She writes, "I am a widow
"with nothing in the
world but $3 million.
Can you help me find a man who
needs me as much as I need him?"
Lonely, meet Wit's End.
Well, I'll be doggoned!
Why didn't I think of that?
Well, because, Minerva,
you're not a woman.
Well, what's that
got to do with it?
Because, women are
sensitive about things like that.
And when you get right
down to it, they're practical.
You mean a woman should
write the "Dear Minerva" column?
Of course.
That's what I've been
hoping you'd say.
Fans, meet Minerva.
Me?
Oh, just a second.
I can't give advice.
You just did.
You're perfect for the job.
I don't know why I
didn't think of you before.
Oh, no, Sam. I'm too busy.
I got my three girls, I
got the hotel to run...
That's just it.
You've been solving
people's problems for years,
just being you.
Oh, Sam, stop
and think about it.
Th-The folks in this
valley aren't gonna send
their personal problems
to Kate Bradley.
Well, it could be our secret.
You could type the
column at the hotel,
and bring it down here,
and nobody'd never
know who Minerva is.
I-I just don't have time,
running back and
forth delivering columns.
We could get
somebody else to bring it.
Then it won't be a secret.
Well, it would if we could get
somebody who wouldn't talk.
There isn't such a
person in this valley.
Yes, there is.
- Who?
- Him.
How about it, boy?
You want to get in
the newspaper game?
Hi, Mom.
I thought you
were taking a bath.
I forgot my towel.
Oh.
What are you doing
to my typewriter?
What typewriter?
The one in your hands.
Oh!
Oh, oh, that typewriter.
I was, um, gonna take it
down to the kitchen and dust it.
Your "Z" s are awful fuzzy.
Oh, I just cleaned it yesterday.
Well, you know how "Z" s are.
They're just dust collectors.
They're even worse
than "B"s, or "X"s,
or, well, you're gonna
be late for your date.
I don't have a date tonight.
You don't?
No, I'm going to bed early.
Oh, fine.
Well, then you won't want a
noisy typewriter in your room.
Mom.
I'll help you carry
that upstairs.
I'm not going upstairs.
You're not? Well,
you're facing...
Well, just 'cause
a person is facing
doesn't mean that they're going.
Mom! Are you all right?
Look, why don't you go
and do your homework?
Well, I don't
feel like doing it.
I've got something
more important to do.
Like what?
Well, I've got to write
out the batting order
for the Hooterville Hawks
for tomorrow's game.
Homework is more
important than batting orders!
Well, I need the typewriter
for my homework.
Like I was saying,
batting orders
are more important
than homework.
Mom, are you serious?
Now, would you get going
before I change my mind?
Ooh! I'm sorry, Uncle Joe.
Kate, you ought to
have somebody help you
carry that heavy machine.
I don't need any help.
Of course you do.
Girls!
Never mind.
I can manage without the girls.
Where you goin' with that?
To the kitchen.
What are you gonna do with it?
Why is everybody so nosy?!
Now, then.
Listen to this.
"Dear Minerva,
"I am in love with
a shoe salesman
"who doesn't know I'm alive.
"Every day, I buy
a pair of shoes
"just so he'll notice me.
"Now I have 20 pairs of shoes
"and he still hasn't
given me a tumble.
What should I do?
Signed, Lovesick."
"Dear Lovesick,
"Either get another boyfriend,
or find a centipede who's
tired of going barefoot."
After all, this is
just my first batch.
Someone's coming.
Hello, Bobbie Jo.
I thought I heard a
typewriter down here.
A typewriter?
What would I be
doing with a typewriter?
But I heard something clicking.
Oh, it-it must have been this.
I'm, uh, knitting a sweater.
With an ice pick?
It's for cold weather.
Where's the yarn?
Well, anybody
can knit with yarn.
You and your jokes.
It was just that old
woodpecker again.
It was the woodpecker!
Huh?
Uh, never mind.
Kate, do you mind?
I want to get in the icebox.
What for?
To make myself a
chicken sandwich.
Oh, you shouldn't be
eating at this time of night.
I always eat at
this time of night.
Been doin' it for 20 years.
Well, but d-didn't your hear
the speech the president made
about the dangers of inflation?
I just eat.
Whatever happens after
that's none of my business.
Yeah, but you got 20 years
of unfinished
business right there.
Now, you go on up and go to bed.
It's very bad for
you to eat at night.
Can't a man have a sandwich?
Have a glass of
water. That'll fill you up.
Good night, Uncle Joe.
Night, dear.
♪♪
Hi, Mom.
Is the stove hot?
Don't touch that!
Oh, I want to dry
my baseball shirt.
Well, you can dry
it somewhere else.
It'll dry quick in the oven.
Hang it in the bathroom.
Well, Mom, you've
always told us girls
not hang our personal
stuff in the bathroom
because of the guests.
Will you stop
listening to your mother
and listen to your mother?
Stop listening to
you and listen to you?
Well... y-you can't dry it
in the oven, and that's final.
Why don't you want
me to open the oven?
Have you got something in there?
No!
Then why can't I open the door?
Because I have a
typewriter in there, that's why.
A typewriter?
A typewriter.
Oh, Mom, you're too much.
You're whipping up some
sort of surprise, aren't you?
Well, you might call it that.
Well, whatever it is,
it sure smells good.
I'm gonna have to type it over.
What a shame.
'Cause now it's
a real hot column.
"Signed...: Min... er... va."
I want you to take
this to Hooterville
and deliver it to Sam
Drucker personally.
Understand?
And remember, if anybody
finds out that I'm Minerva,
you're gonna be back in Alaska,
pulling a sled for
Nanook of the North.
Come on.
All right, boy, carry the mail.
♪♪
♪♪
"Dear Undecided,
"My advice is to
marry the astronomer.
At least you'll know
where he is nights."
Oh, I don't agree with Minerva.
She should've told Miss
Undecided to marry the banker.
If I were Minerva, I'd have
told her to marry a ballplayer.
Wouldn't you, Mom?
- Mom?
- What?
Would you prefer the
astronomer or the ballplayer?
Well, I'll have
a little of both.
Mom, we're talking
about Minerva's column.
My nervous what?
Listen to this.
"Dear Minerva.
"I am a hardworking
man, on my feet
"from 6:00 in the
morning till midnight.
"But my niece is
always complaining
that I never work enough."
Poor guy.
I know just how he feels.
Go ahead, uh,
share the rest of it.
"What can I do about
it? Signed, Joe C."
Mom, did you hear that?
She's asleep again.
- Mom!
- What?
Mom, you were asleep.
Oh, I was not.
Yes, you were.
Heard every word you said.
What did we say?
Y-You said I was asleep,
that's what you said.
I haven't got
breakfast started yet.
Go on.
Breakfast ready, Kate?
Good morning.
Pardon me.
Hey, there's Betty Jo's dog!
Oh!
Never mind the dog!
Mind what you're doing.
Bye, little friend.
Good boy.
I got to hand it to you.
We're into our third week
and nobody's got wise.
- Hi, fellas.
- Hi, Sam.
Hey, what time's the
paper coming out?
Yeah, we want to
read Minerva's column.
If folks'll stop pestering me,
it'll be out at
its regular time.
Sam, who is this Minerva anyhow?
Is she from around here?
Oh, she's too smart
to be from around here.
She's got to live in
Boston or Philadelphia.
You're right about that, Floyd.
For once.
Hey, what's he doing here?
- Who?
- The dog.
He was back at the Shady
Rest when we pulled out.
He beat the train in.
What's so unusual about that?
Wonder if Kate knows he's gone.
Maybe we ought to take him back.
Oh, no, I wouldn't do that.
He might have business in town.
What kind of business would
a dog be having in town?
If you want to know,
ask him. I ain't nosy.
Come on, Charley, we got to
get that crate to the grain store.
Ooh, hot ziggity.
This ought to boost
circulation another five readers.
Here's a batch for Minerva.
There. Hear it?
Mom's at it again.
What on earth
could she be writing?
She's been at it for weeks.
A novel, maybe.
Use your head.
Why would she keep it a secret
if she were writing a novel?
Maybe it's the story of my life.
Like... like...
Like, the big day you had the
braces taken off of your teeth?
I've got it!
She's carrying on a secret
correspondence with a man.
It explains everything.
Writing at night, going
around dead on her feet all day.
Like Elizabeth Barrett
and Robert Browning.
Do they live around here?
The poet.
You mean Mom's
writing to a poet?
Oh, skip it.
I wonder who it could be.
Stay there a minute.
Sam Drucker speaking.
Who'd you say it was, Sarah?
What eagle?
I don't know any eagles.
Oh! The big city newspaper?
Yeah, put him on.
It's long distance.
Yeah, th-this is the editor
of The Hooterville
World Guardian.
Well, thank you.
We think Minerva's
column's pretty good, too.
You want to what it?
Oh-oh, syndicate.
In-in 46 papers.
Well, our circulation's
almost twice that.
Oh-oh, 46 different papers.
Well, gee, I don't know.
I'd have to ask her.
Can I call you back?
Yes, sir.
Thank you, Mr. Haskins.
Stick around.
I got to dash off a real
special note to Kate.
- Bye, now.
- Bye.
Oh, there you are,
you little scamp.
Come here.
Hey, what's that
stuck to your collar?
A little tighter.
- Mom is in love!
- What?
And not with a poet.
It's Sam Drucker.
Oh! Not that tight!
And how do you know?
Because this was
attached to the dog's collar.
Listen.
"Dear Kate,
"Our little secret is
working out just fine.
"I've got a proposal to make
to you about you know what.
"I'm so happy for both
of us, I could kiss you.
Devotedly, Sam Drucker."
- Wow!
- Wow!
Wow!
What's all the commotion?
Uncle Joe, you'll
never guess... Hold it.
Uncle Joe, you better sit down.
Just sit right down
here, Uncle Joe.
Make yourself
comfortable. That's good.
You know how strange
Mom's been acting lately?
How she's been
sneaking my typewriter
out of my room
and writing all night?
And you know who
she's been writing to?
And who's gonna propose to her?
And who can hardly
wait to kiss her?
Who? Who?
Sam Drucker!
I better sit down.
Mr. Drucker's
gonna be our father.
And he'll be your nephew.
Man my age don't want
no bald-headed nephew.
Well, gee, if Mom and
Mr. Drucker are in love,
well, why all the secrecy?
If I was in love
with Sam Drucker,
I'd sure keep it a secret.
And sending notes
back and forth by the dog.
Why don't they just
come right out and...
I know. Maybe she thinks
we wouldn't approve.
There must be some reason
why they're hiding
it from everybody.
What could it be?
Well, she couldn't be
worried about one of us.
We're all grown up.
There's only one way
to find out about this:
ask the one person who
can give us the answer.
Dear Minerva!
Ha!
"And so now we understand
why our mother has been so cranky
"with us, and is always
tired and run down.
"It's not right for us
girls to stand in her way
to marry the man she loves."
That's a real
knee-slapper, Kate.
Imagine the girls thinking you
and me are planning to get...
Now, now, Sam, it isn't funny.
You know, while Minerva
is being a big shot in print,
Kate Bradley has been tired
and worn out, run
down and cranky.
Didn't realize I'd been
neglecting the girls.
Yeah, but think what it'll mean
to have your column syndicated.
You'll be a celebrity.
Why, people will be
after you for autographs.
There'll be parties.
You'll be making speeches.
Sam, I'm about to make one now.
This is what I call a
real dinner for a change.
- Little more of that white meat.
- Mm.
There you go.
And the dark.
Not to, um, mention dressing?
Yeah, a little of that, too.
And more mashed
potatoes, Uncle Joe?
Uh-huh.
And not too easy on the gravy.
That's right.
And some more biscuits
and strawberry jam,
huh, Uncle Joe?
Notice how I'm cutting down?
Oh, yes, yes, I have.
Uh, I believe that that's
the smallest fourth helping
I've ever seen you take.
Hey, girls, the paper's in!
Read Minerva's column.
G-Girls, don't you think we
ought to wait till after dinner?
We just want to take a peek.
Is it in? Is it in?
It's here!
The letter from Worried Sisters.
Read Minerva's answer.
"Dear Worried Sisters
and all my nice readers..."
Oh, this is terrible!
Oh, no!
What is it?
She can't! She just can't!
She can't what? Betty Jo,
either read it or give it to me.
Oh!
Oh, Mom, you read it.
I can't.
"Dear Worried Sisters
and all my nice readers,
This is my last column."
Um, "Before I say
good-bye, I'd like to tell
"the Worried
Sisters, stop worrying.
"Your mother doesn't
sound like the type to carry on
"a secret romance.
"If she wanted to marry her
old friend the storekeeper,
you'd be the first
to hear about it."
Yeah.
You know, that
Minerva sure is wise.
I guess it's because
she's so old.
Why is she giving up the column?
Oh, well...
Minerva says, um, "My
readers have helped me
"more than I have
ever helped them.
"And if there's anybody
who really needs
"to follow Minerva's advice,
it's yours truly, Minerva."
Did you hear that, Uncle Joe?
Minerva isn't gonna
write her column anymore.
That's no loss.
You know who could
write a better column
than that Minerva woman?
Who?
Your mother.
♪ Petticoat Junction. ♪
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