Petticoat Junction (1963–1970): Season 3, Episode 13 - Uncle Joe Plays Post Office - full transcript

(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)

Uncle Joe.

Uncle Joe.

He's not here!

Well, is he upstairs?

Is Uncle Joe upstairs?



That's what I'm asking you.

I was asking Bobbie Jo.

Asking me what?

Is Uncle Joe upstairs?

No, he's not.

He's not upstairs.

Well, where is he?

I don't know.

What?

I said I don't know
where Uncle Joe is.

Well, he's not up here.

I know he isn't.

Well, then why did
you ask me if he was?

Mom was trying to find him.

Well, he's not up here.

Have you any idea where he is?

No, I don't.

Didn't he say where he...?

Betty Jo.

Yes, ma'am?

When I asked
where Uncle Joe was,

I didn't mean to start

a two-story hollering match.

Mom.

Yes.

Uncle Joe isn't up here.

What's that?

Isn't that the letter you asked
Uncle Joe to mail for you?

Well, that's where he is.

He went to Sam's to buy a stamp.

Why didn't he take the letter?

That'd be too easy.

Sam.

In a minute, Joe.

A-A pound of what, Mrs. Quigley?

Can I get a five-cent stamp?

A pound of stamps?

No, just one.

Will you keep your
big mouth shut?

No, no, no, not
you, Mrs. Quigley.

Now, what was it you wanted?

A five-cent stamp.

How'd you like a
punch in the nose?

No, not you, Mrs. Quigley.

Hello? Hello?

She hung up.

Well, it's about time.

Now maybe I can get waited on.

Sarah?

Sarah, would you get
Mrs. Quigley back for me?

Good thing you wasn't in
charge of the Pony Express,

or Garcia never would
have got that message.

Stealing stamps
is a federal offense.

Not when the postmaster's
yammering on the phone.

There's your nickel.

Okay, you got your stamp.

Now clear out.

Hello, uh, Mrs. Quigley?

Yeah, I'm sorry we were cut off.

Now, what was it you wanted?

Uh-huh.

Yeah, and-and... Oh,
hold it, Mrs. Quigley.

What do you think you're doing?

Changing stamps.

Well, I can't sell this
stamp, it's pre-licked.

Well, I ain't gonna take it.

All the glue's off of it.

Hello, Mrs. Quigley?

Hello?

She hung up again.

I don't blame her.

You don't run your store
any better than you run

your post office, and
you run your post office

worse than anyone
I've ever seen.

You don't like the way
I run my post office?

A baboon could run it better.

Well, here's where we find out.

You got yourself a post office.

Oh, Uncle Joe, did you, uh...?

What's that?

Post office.

You went to town to buy a stamp,

and you came back
with the post office?

Kate, meet the new
Hooterville postmaster.

Oh, Uncle Joe, you'd better take
that back before Sam misses it.

Sam gave it to me.

Sam gave you a post office?

Yeah, it was interfering
with his grocery business.

Take it back.

Kate, I've got a good reason
for bringing this out here.

Now, I'm a fool for
asking, but what is it?

Well, Kate, 90% of
the business Sam gets

is because he's got
the post office there.

People come in to buy a stamp,
they end up buying groceries.

I figure the same
thing will work here.

People will come
in to buy a stamp,

and they'll rent a room.

That's the reason?

Take it back.

Kate, you just don't
bandy a post office around

like a Ping-Pong ball.

Once it's duly appointed,
you can't unappoint it.

Take it back.

Nope.

Please.

No.

- Please.
- No.

Sam, you just can't
give away a post office.

You don't see it around
the store, do you?

But you've been
postmaster for 22 years.

Yeah, and justice of the peace

and water and power commissioner

and superintendent of schools
and editor of the newspaper

and notary public,
besides trying to run a store.

I have been busier
than an Adam's apple

at a yodeling contest.

Take it back for my sake.

Well, Kate, if...

Look, if you don't, Uncle Joe

is sure to do something foolish

and get in trouble
with the government

and wind up in Leavenworth.

Oh, I never thought
of it that way.

See?

But the more I think of it
that way, the more I like it.

Sam.

When you get back to the hotel,

would you mail
this letter for me?

(brakes screeching)

Here, put up this one

of Tightwad Terwilliger,
the counterfeiter.

Uncle Joe, Mom isn't gonna like

these posters in her lobby.

Regulation 831.43 says
that every post office

has to display wanted posters.

Hey, this looks
like you, Uncle Joe.

Oh, let's see it.

Aw, there ain't no resemblance.

What have you done to our lobby?

Take down this rogues gallery.

Regulations say we
have to display 'em

in the most conspicuous
place in the lobby.

Uncle Joe, guests
don't want to sit around

in the evening and, and
look at these plug-uglies.

Sure they do.

It'll make up for the
fact that we ain't got TV.

Girls, take them down.

I don't want... What is that?

Every post office
has to have a scale.

So does a kitchen.

But that scale is official.

I just swore it in.

Find yourself another
one and swear it in.

And by the powers
invested in me,

I hereby confiscate
this scale in the name

of the United States
Post Office Department

of Washington, D.C.

Oh, you can't do that, Joe.

He's wearing a hat.

That don't give him the
right to take the station scale.

Okay, Charley, I'm
putting you on report

for interfering with
the postmaster.

What's your full name?

Gosh, Joe, you wouldn't
do that to Charley.

He's your friend.

What's your full name?

Don't pay no
attention to him, Floyd.

You fellas gonna help
me get this up to the hotel,

or do I have to call the FBI?

Go on and call them.

You got a dime?

Betty Jo, did you
take my nail polish?

No, ma'am.

Well, I wonder where it is.

Uncle Joe took it.

Uncle Joe?

Uncle Joe, is that
my nail polish?

Yeah. Here.

What are you using it for?

This is supposed
to be "official"?

Not till I paint the whole
thing red, white and blue.

That's the national colors
for the post office department.

Oh, really?

You could have had
your scales painted

if you hadn't been so picayune.

Oh, if I'd only known.

Um, do Floyd and Charley know

that you took this from
the Hooterville Station?

They helped me bring it up.

They helped you?

Yeah, well, I had
to flash the FBI.

I can imagine.

Do you mind telling
me how you expect

to weigh a letter on this?

Oh, well, the whole thing
is based on the principle

that everybody weighs a
certain number of pounds.

So far that makes sense.

Well, now, when somebody
comes in to mail a letter...

Or as we postmasters
refer to them, the mailee...

I ask them to state
their gross weight.

Then they get on the scale
with the letter in their hands,

and I subtract the gross
weight as stated by the mailee

from the weight shown
on the official scale,

and the balance is payable

at the standard rate
of five cents an ounce.

Take it back.

But it works, Kate.

You want to try it?

I don't have a letter.

Here.

I'll loan you one.

Now, how much do you weigh?

195 pounds.

All right, get on the scale.

See, 128 pounds.

Now you subtract 128
pounds from 195 pounds,

and that leaves,
let's see, 47 pounds.

Now, at five cents an ounce...

You owe me $6,922.

Must be something wrong.

Yeah, there is.

Take it back!

Take it back.

No, thanks, Kate.

Ever since I got
rid of the post office,

I've been able to
sit back and relax.

Oh, Sam, you've got to.

Nope.

Do you know how
he's weighing letters?

You're not gonna believe this.

I'll show you.

Now, I am the mailee.

The mailee?

Didn't you ever use that term?

No.

And you called
yourself a postmaster?

Anyway, the mailee
states her gross weight,

steps on the scale
with the letter.

Now, the difference
between her weight with

and without the letter
costs five cents per ounce.

You're kidding.

Sam, take it back!

I can't take it back.

But I don't want...

I don't want an airmail stamp.

Once a stamp is
tore from the sheet,

it becomes the sole
property of the mailee.

You want anything else, Emmy?

A pound of butter.

We ain't in the butter business.

Well, I always did my shopping

when I went to the
post office at Sam's.

Well, I'll see what
I can do for you.

Betty Jo.

BETTY JO: Yes, Uncle Joe.

Lend Mrs. Puddleford
a pound of butter.

Can I do something
for you, Mrs. Prentiss?

I want to mail this letter,

and I need a can of beans.

Betty Jo,

a can of beans
for Mrs. Prentiss.

Would you step on
the scales, please?

There must have
been 50 women here

for the post office
this morning.

Yeah. Boy, some excitement.

You don't know what
you've been missing, Mom.

Oh, yes, I do.

I'm missing two dozen
eggs, three quarts of milk,

four pounds of
butter, half a turkey,

a ham, a jar of pickles,

four lamb chops,
and a side of bacon.

Look in the cupboard.

What happened to all our stuff?

One pound of flour.

Uncle Joe, come in here.

I ain't got time, Kate.

I've got a customer
for two postcards,

and she wants to
borrow a pound of flour.

You mean you've been
lending all our stuff?

Well, you got to keep

your post office
customers happy.

Sam, you've got to take it back.

What else, Kate?

Well, I need a side of
bacon and a sack of flour.

Please, Sam.

Nope. What else?

Well, eggs, butter...

Just give me an assortment.

Sam, please.

Kate, this is the
biggest order I've had

since I gave Joe
the post office.

I know.

I'm getting all your customers.

Well, I don't mind

as long as you keep
bringing me orders like this.

I'll get your flour for you.

- Sam, please take it back.
- No.

Oh, good morning, Mrs. Bradley.

Oh, Mr. Douglas.

- How are you?
- I'm fine.

Is, uh, Mr. Drucker around?

- I want...
- Yes, he...

Where's the post office?

Oh, um, Uncle Joe has it.

What?

Sam gave it to him.

He gave it to him?

Mm-hmm.

Can he do that?

It's out at the hotel.

Well, would you take this
with you and mail it for me?

No, I-I'm sorry.

Well, what's the...?

It's too complicated.

How can mailing a
letter be complicated?

Follow me.

Uncle Joe, I've
brought you a customer.

Hi, Mr. Douglas,
what can I do for you?

I want to mail a letter.

You're gonna be
sorry you said that.

Uh, it's a special
delivery letter.

Oh, boy.

Special delivery, huh?

What's in it?

Well, it's a letter...

What business is it
of yours, what's in it?

Don't get mad so soon.

The worst is yet to come.

You come in here and
say you want to mail

a special delivery letter.

Now, how do I know
what's in it is special enough

to be delivered special?

Because I'm telling you.

You got any identification?

What do I need
identification for?

I never heard this one before.

You want to mail
the letter or don't you?

Of course I do.

How much do you weigh?

You have to tell him.

185 pounds.

Get on the scales.

Why should I get on...?

You've gone this far.

(sighs)

Now what?

Put in a penny.

What kind of a...?

Be my guest.

195 pounds.

The scale is wrong.

This scale is never wrong.

It's an official
U.S. mail scale.

The difference between
your stated weight

and the weight shown with
the letter comes to ten pounds.

Now, at 20 cents an ounce,

let's see, that'll
come to, uh...

roughly, uh, $920.

- 920...
- See what I mean?

I believe I do.

Mrs. Bradley.

Mr. Douglas.

Mr. Carson.

What about the letter?

I don't care whether
you take it back or not.

Just help me figure out a
way to get it out of the hotel.

Well, there's probably some
rule in the regulation book

that he's violating.

Any special one?

Take your pick.

There it is in black and white.

You're operating
an illegal post office.

Kate, I don't know what
you're talking about.

Listen.

Regulation 761.43:

location of mail handling area.

"It is unlawful to conduct
any post office business

"within 50 feet of a
kitchen or installation

where food is prepared."

And my kitchen is 43 feet

from this post office.

That's no problem.

Just move the kitchen.

I am not moving the kitchen.

You are moving the post office.

Where?

I don't care where.

Just get it out of the lobby.

43 feet?

Hmm.

Well, it sure looks good to
have the lobby back to normal.

(screams)

Mom, what's the matter?

My-my-my-my door.

Uncle Joe.

Uncle Joe!

Your room's ideal for
the post office, Kate.

It's just 53 feet and four
inches from the kitchen,

which is approved regulation.

What I'm going to say isn't.

- Go to your rooms, girls.
- Aw, Mom.

Out, out, out, out, out.

Uncle Joe, this time
you've gone too far.

These posters. This junk.

The slots in my door.

Oh, that was a real
inspiration, Kate.

Them slots is so people
can mail letters at night

and won't come stomping in
and wake you up out of a sleep.

Oh, well, that was
very considerate.

What was wrong with
using the postmaster's room?

I thought of that, but my room
was within the 50-foot limit.

I'll give you ten minutes
to get this junk out of here.

Kate, this ain't junk.

This is a United
States Post Office.

Where can I put it?

I don't care where you put it.

I'm tired and I
want to go to bed.

Now, will you get this
junk out of the hotel?

What's the matter, Uncle Joe?

Your mother evicted
the post office.

When they picked that
motto about the rain, the sleet,

and the snow not
stopping the mail,

they didn't figure
on Kate Bradley.

Why don't you give the post
office back to Mr. Drucker?

'Cause I don't figure
he's the type of man

that should be trusted with it.

Fella comes in to
buy a five-cent stamp,

he gives it away.

This mail hasn't
been delivered yet.

How can I deliver
it when I ain't got

a post office to
deliver it from?

Why don't you deliver it?

Who ever heard of the
postmaster delivering the mail?

That's like asking the
secretary of agriculture

to pick tomatoes.

Well, what are you
gonna do with it?

Well, if I could find me a
couple of pretty young girls

that wanted to help their
Uncle Sam, I could, uh...

How'd they know I
was talking about them?

Hold it.

Where you going?

Come here. I
want to talk to you.

You ever given any
thought to your future?

Or you just want to stay
an ordinary dog all your life?

Well, you can't...
that's my job.

Maybe if you started
as a mail carrier

and worked your way up,
be a great future for you.

If anybody ever bit the
postman, you could bite 'em back.

I can get you into
the civil service

without taking the written exam.

Hold up your right paw
and repeat after me.

Neither rain nor
sleet nor snow...

Where'd he go?

Aw, well, he wouldn't have
made a good postman anyway.

He doesn't know where half
the people live around here.

There must be somebody who...

(train whistle blows)

And I think I've
just found them.

But think of all the
business the post office

will bring the train.

I can set it up in
the baggage car.

Joe, you're not
ruining the Cannonball

like you did Kate's hotel.

All right, fellas.

I'll do my best to keep this out
of the Congressional Record.

Keep what out of the
Congressional Record?

The fact that you deserted
your country in a time of need.

The names of Charley Pratt
and Floyd Smoot will go down

alongside that of
Benedict Arnold.

Benedict Arnold?

Where's his post office?

CHARLEY: Joe...

we're tired and we're broke.

These extra mail runs are
burning up a lot of wood, right?

We ain't got time to chop fuel.

So we give the Crebley
boy 25 cents an hour

to load the tender.

We want our money back.

That ain't in my
post office budget.

Look, fellas, are you
against motherhood?

Why, of course not.

Then what's gonna
happen on Mother's Day

when there's nobody
to deliver the cards?

Mother's Day.

I never thought of that.

(crying): We'll do it, Joe.

Thanks.

I'll help you set this
up in the baggage car.

(dog barking)

(dog growling)

(dog barking)

"So me and Floyd figure
the government owes us..."

Can you make out
this next line, Browning?

"Government owes us," uh, "$3.75

for wood for the Cannonball"?

"Hope this don't
strain your budget."

Signed "Charles
Pratt, Engineer."

This has got to be a rib.

There can't be a town
named Hooterville.

Unfortunately there is.

That's what the postmark says.

I've already checked the map.

Now, it's not there.

Well, no wonder you
couldn't see it, Chief.

That fly had its foot on it.

The post office
department has no contract

to supply wood for a train.

Now, Browning, you'd better
find out where Hooterville is

and check this thing out.

Oh, well, couldn't you
send somebody else, Chief?

Oh, hi, Kate.

I figured you'd be in the lobby.

That's where I figured
you figured I'd be,

that's why I figured to be here.

Where you going with that?

Well, Charley and
Floyd conked out on me.

They're too cheap to
pay for their own wood

for the privilege of delivering
the United States mail.

Can you imagine that?

Kate, it's my
duty as a citizen...

Of what country?

This one.

Oh, well, I just wanted
to get the facts straight

before I said, "No, you
cannot bring that stuff

back in the hotel."

The mail's got to go through.

Not through the hotel.

Kate, I've got a lot
of mail to deliver.

How am I gonna do it?

You'll figure out a way.

Two degrees northwest,
Uncle Joe, and...

five degrees more elevation.

That should be right on target.

Oh, hi, Kate.

What is that?

The way I figured out
for delivering the mail.

Like they say, "Mother's
a necessity of an inventor."

Oh, is that what they say?

What are you doing?

Sending Fred Ziffle's
mail with a modern rocket.

You think that's going
to go right to Fred Ziffle?

Well, it can't miss, see?
It's got the zip code on it.

All conditions go?

Roger.

Uncle Joe, that is the silliest,

most impractical,
most idiotic...

(rocket whistling)

Fred Ziffle will be reading
that before you can say...

(man screams)

(groaning)

Who, who, who...

who was the idiot
that-that did this?

- Any mail?
- No.

Gee, I wish Uncle Joe would
write from wherever he is.

Did you look under
the water tank?

(laughs)

Oh, Sam, I'm so glad

that you have the
post office back.

Well, I kind of missed it.

Oh.

Could I please mail this letter?

How much do you weigh?

Oh, now, Sam...

- Step on the scale.
- Look...

You want the post office
back at the Shady Rest?

128 pounds.

♪ Petticoat Junction. ♪

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