The Waltons (1971–1981): Season 4, Episode 22 - The House - full transcript

(BIRDS CHIRPING)

JOHN-BOY: On Walton's
Mountain, the changing of the seasons

marked the rapid
day-to-day growth

of the younger
members of our family.

With all the process of change,

there were lasting
values in our lives

as enduring as
the mountain itself.

But there came a time
when our values were tested

by events which came
upon us without warning.

Careful now.

While you're up there, take
a good look at the shingles.



ELIZABETH: Still can't
understand what that thing is for.

A lightning rod
protects the house.

Think I'll put one
in the tree house.

MARY ELLEN: Daddy catches you
up in that tree house in a thunderstorm,

you'll need more
than a lightning rod.

Not very pretty, is it?

You can always train a
morning glory vine to grow up it.

JOHN: The beauty
is what it does.

ELIZABETH: Looks
like a toy flagpole.

It's a pretty useful thing.

Lightning always
hits the highest spot,

whether it's a
tree or on a house.

Runs down the pole,
here along the eaves,

down here, and hits the ground



and explodes, just as
harmless as a kitten.

I think you put it
in the wrong place.

What?

Well, it looks like it'd bring the
lightning right down to our bedroom.

Wow! Be just like old
times, wouldn't it, hon?

John-Boy, I'm
ready to go to town.

Yes, ma'am.

Grandma, I'm gonna tell Ike you're
buying at someone else's store.

You tell him I'm
comparing prices.

Last time he charged me six
cents for a five cent spool of thread.

It was so old, it kept breakin'.

Come on, let's
go. Got your list?

It's all in my head.

There isn't a prettier
place in the world to keep it.

JOHN-BOY: Been a long while since
you've been in town, hasn't it, Grandma?

Right. I... I
remember this street.

Jefferson, isn't
it? That's right.

Oh, this brings back
memories. When I was a little...

The Whitley House is right
around the corner. Uh-huh.

Pull over, will you,
John-Boy, please?

Why, sure.

This house used to be
a tavern, didn't it, Sister?

Oh, never a tavern, dear.

Ooh. More of a
comfortable old country inn,

where friends would gather for
conversation and companionship.

Mr. Woodrow Wilson himself
was said to have visited here

after he returned to Staunton.

Papa used to meet
with his lady friends here.

Cousins, Emily.
They were his cousins.

Never his lady friends.

If they were his cousins, why
didn't they ever come visit us?

Perhaps they will,
dear, someday.

Well, Miss Emily, Miss
Mamie, how do, ladies?

Good to see you. John-Boy.

Mrs. Walton.

Well, what's going
on here, ladies?

MISS MAMIE: The Whitley
House has been condemned.

GRANDMA: Oh, no.

Our papa used to come
here when it was a tavern.

Emily.

To visit with his cousins.

Well, I used to come here after the
Whitleys turned it into a private house.

Some of the best memories
of my life live in that house.

Did you have cousins
here, too, Mrs. Walton?

No, but something very special
happened to me right there.

And under that window.

JOHN-BOY: Oh,
really? What was that?

It's private.

Oh, well, excuse me.

Now they're gonna tear it down and
put up some cheesebox of a store.

Well, I hate to
tell you, Grandma,

but it looks to me like it's about
ready to fall down on its own.

Well, then they should
prop it up, not tear it down.

I agree with you, Mrs. Walton.

I'm going to have a
talk with that gentleman.

Sir?

Yes, ma'am.

I am Mamie Eudora
Wingfield Baldwin.

Joe Wheeler. County
supervisor, ma'am.

How do you do?

I wish to register my strongest
objection to this outrage.

Me, too.

These ladies were concerned

because they have many
fond memories of this old place

and they were just wondering if there
was any possible way it could be saved.

Well, I'd like to help you out.

But I'm afraid it's
out of my hands.

Whose hands is it in?

WHEELER: It's in
the county's, ma'am.

You see, the owner lived down in
Atlanta and he let it go for back taxes.

They put it up for sale
but nobody bid on it.

So now it's just a
nuisance to the county.

Hangout for hobos and kids.

That foundation is just
riddled with termites.

So, I'm sorry, we're
gonna have to tear it down.

Thank you anyway.

Do something, Sister.

I am considering, Sister.

John-Boy, what can we do?

Well, I don't know.

You could petition
the county, you know.

If you got enough signatures on a
petition they might restore the place.

That's an excellent
idea, John-Boy.

Are you with us, Sister?

And, John-Boy, you use the
strongest words you know.

Next thing they'll be wanting to tear
down Monticello or Mount Vernon.

JASON: Hey, everybody!

Grandma, you'll never
guess what happened today.

You are looking at the only
freshman at the Kleinberg Conservatory

to go into Advanced
Theory and Counterpoint.

That's nice. What is it?

Well, it's an
advanced music class.

And they teach theory,
and... and harmony,

and I'm finding out all
the things I need to know.

It isn't what you know
that makes you a musician.

It's how much you feel.

That's true.

Will it be all right if I listen to
the radio tonight during supper?

I don't see why not. Good.

There's a broadcast
of classical music

that Professor Thaxton
wants us to listen to.

Yeah, well, classical music
is good for the soul, I guess,

but I like a tune
you can dance to.

Something you can put
your foot to the floor to.

Well, barn dance
picking is a lot of fun,

but Professor Thaxton says I've got
to stick with serious music from now on.

Country music has
been entertaining folks

since before you or your
Mr. Thaxton were born.

So you can't turn
your back on it

just because some
professor says so.

Wasn't gonna turn my back on it.

But I have to
think of the future.

The future's all right. But I
like to remember the past, too.

(CLASSICAL MUSIC
PLAYING ON RADIO)

Zeb knows it's suppertime.
Do you know why he isn't here?

Just down at Ike's, Ma.
Don't worry. He'll be along.

If he isn't along soon I'm
gonna go looking for him.

Daddy, can I go
upstairs and eat my pie?

Something wrong?

That music's
making me lethargic.

Whatever that means.

Oh, I don't know
what it means, either.

But when I was acting that
way today during history class,

Mrs. Fordwick said I
was being lethargic.

You're excused. Thank you.

Me, too. Me, too.

I'm gonna go give
Elizabeth a hand.

Everybody going?

Maybe you ought to turn
that music down, Son.

Doesn't seem to be too popular.

I think they've
all got tin ears.

(SCATTING)

Ah, little old darling.

Zeb, come and get
your supper while it's hot.

I've been all over the county
and there isn't a woman in it

that's got as handsome
a figure as you've got.

What'd you do, win
the Irish Sweepstakes?

I got us a job.

Well, that's always welcome.

But don't pay one red penny.

Sorry to hear that.

But for our labors
we're gonna get

some of the finest wood
there is in existence.

Tulipwood, satinwood, mahogany,

cherry, maple
wood, and chestnut.

Well, you can't buy
wood like that anymore.

How'd you come across
this wood, Grandpa?

I was down at the store
and there was old Yancy,

and he took me for a
ride up Rockfish River.

There was this old house.

They're going to tear it down.

I went back to
courthouse and asked

if there's any
demolition rights as yet.

They said, "No, not as yet."

And I volunteered
and we've got us a job.

Uh-oh.

The Whitley House?

Oh, yes, Esther. How
do you know that?

Because that's the
house we're gonna save.

Why would you want to save
an old falling down house for?

Because I love that house.

It was built when the town was
only a turn-around in the road.

When I was a girl, the Whitley
House was the middle of everything.

I appreciate your feelings, Ma,

but if we don't do the job, they'll
just give it to somebody else.

Well, I can't see it torn
down by Zeb or anybody.

So you might as
well just forget it.

We're getting up a petition.

All the petitions in the world
won't save a house that's caving in.

Well, good Lord, you could fix
it up and keep it as a landmark.

You know, Grandma, I've
been thinking about that.

That'd take an
awful lot of money.

I don't know if anybody's got
that kind of money these days.

Whose side are you on?

I'm just trying to
look at both sides of it.

And I can't honestly say

that the community could
afford to repair that place.

Well, then, why don't they
just let it die of natural causes,

in peace and dignity?

Ma, that's not the way
things go with houses.

Zeb, I... I have such memories of
the dances and the parties there.

The Whitleys had money,

and they used to ask all
the young people in, and...

Well, Zeb remembers.
Go on, you tell them.

Sure, I was there lots of times.

We went dancing there
when we first started courting.

Have you forgotten that?

I shook a leg at most every dance
in the county one time or another,

(LAUGHING) you can't
expect me to remember them all.

There's not one single
person in this house

that has one penny's
worth of regard for the past.

It was part of my growin' up.

I used to go by that house every day on
my way to school when I was a little girl.

Yes, John-Boy,
I was a girl once.

Well, I didn't say anything.

And I used to look
up at that high window,

with all the colored,
stained glass, and...

Well, it just seemed so high,
above the clouds, above everything.

And then one day they let
me go up and look through it.

And it was all agleam
in the morning sunshine.

And I used to wonder

what... what Walton's Mountain
would look like through that window.

And there's all that good
hardwood sitting inside

doing no good to anybody.

We can't buy wood like
that anymore, Esther.

Well, you're just gonna
have to do without.

And what's that mean, Ma?

The ladies of the Rockfish
Historical Society are on the march.

(GRANDPA EXCLAIMING)

Isn't that a withering thought?

Pa.

Ma's got such strong
feelings about this.

Maybe we'd better find
ourselves another job.

You go get yourself
another job. I've got a job.

(CLASSICAL MUSIC
PLAYING ON GRAMOPHONE)

(MUSIC STOPS)

How many of you heard
Haydn on the radio last night?

I did. I did.

We are going to be delving into the hidden
textures and harmonies of this quartet.

Now, an excellent way to do this

is by reducing the quartet,

so that it may be played as
a duet for violin and piano.

Do I have two students

to play the duet at
a recital this Friday?

How about me?
I know it by heart.

No, Felicia, you
played at the last recital.

Hollis, you take
the violin part.

Now, someone for the piano.

Think you can handle it, Jason?

Yes, sir.

You play guitar, too?

Mmm-hmm. Not classical.

I play with a group called the
Haystack Gang. We play barn dances.

Now let's listen to the
last part of the movement.

(CLASSICAL MUSIC
PLAYING ON GRAMOPHONE)

Hey, Rosie. Hi.

Mr. Johnson, you
wanted to see me?

Yes, John-Boy, yes.

(CLEARS THROAT)

How'd you like to write
an editorial for me?

I certainly would,
thank you very much.

Is this by way of a promotion?

No, just that I'm
getting a little tired.

I may decide to sell this
place and move to Florida.

I'd certainly hate
to see that happen.

Well, I'll give you first crack
at buying me out if you want.

(LAUGHING)

Well, thank you very much.

Well, anyway, I've got
something of a hot potato here.

Well, you always told me
that was the only kind to have.

I did? Mmm-hmm.

Yeah, it's true, I did.

We're, uh, talking about
the Whitley House. Oh.

Maybe you've heard
it's been condemned.

Yes, I know all
about that place.

Well, now I don't want
the, uh, usual stuff,

names and dates and facts,
and who slept here and all that.

I want you to get to
the meat of the thing.

"The passing of
a style of living."

Hmm.

Something's wrong.
Oh, no, nothing.

Not at all. It's just...

Wouldn't you know,
my very first editorial.

You see, my grandfather has been
contracted to tear the place down

and my grandmother is
petitioning to keep the place up.

Do you believe that?

You're gonna be in
trouble with your family.

Yes, it's quite possible, sir.

Good, good.

The best editorials come when
there are deep feelings on both sides.

It's the only climate
that grows real truth.

That may be true.

And this one is certainly
gonna be a whopper.

(PIANO PLAYING)

(PLAYS OUT OF TUNE)

Well, Jason, maybe
it's too hard for you.

No, it isn't, I'll get it.

Elizabeth, I'm
trying to practice.

Elizabeth, we're
trying to listen to music.

This is music.

Oh, no, it's not. All it
is, is a bunch of noise.

Would you all please
be quiet so I can practice?

Jason, here. Come on.
Will you play that, honey?

Grandma, I have...
I'm trying to practice.

Oh, just a few bars.

It's a song my papa played
and I haven't heard it in years.

I know this. I played this with Bobby
Bigelow and the Haystack Gang.

Oh, I bet it sounds just great on the
guitar with maybe a fiddle going along.

Go on, play it.

Grandma, I have some serious
practicing to do. This isn't for fun.

You used to enjoy your...

Does that have to stop now
that... that it's your career?

All I know is I've got to learn
this whole thing by Friday, or else.

So I'd appreciate it if
you'd all just leave me alone

so I can practice, all right?

(GIRLS LAUGHING) Please?

Elizabeth! Gosh!
Why can't I see it?

Well, because you're little.

I remember those parties
at the Whitley House so well.

The fine way the young
men were dressed,

smelling of brilliantine
and Bay Rum.

And the Japanese lanterns hanging
all the way down the banisters.

The country
music, the dancing...

Does Grandpa remember, too?

I never told you
this, Livie, but, uh,

it was on a spring night

at a dance, at the
Whitley's that, uh,

Zeb first kissed me.

And then he sat down and
played his banjo and sang a tune.

I won't lie to you,
it wasn't very good.

But, that night,

I think it must have been the
prettiest music I heard in my whole life.

Yeah, well,

maybe it means more to a
woman to remember the little things.

But Zeb seems to have
forgotten the whole thing.

You could remind him.

No. No, wouldn't be the same.

But if that petition goes
through and we save that house,

then maybe someday

Zeb'll just up and
remember it on his own.

MISS MAMIE:
Ladies and gentlemen,

in these days of Depression,
poverty, and despair,

it seems to me that it behooves
us to cling to the traditional,

the rich and the
beautiful relics of our past.

It uplifts the spirit.

It provides beauty and
permanence in our lives.

And, most of all, it's a dwelling
place for precious memories.

(ALL APPLAUDING) Thank you.

Now, my sister Emily
and Mrs. Zebulon Walton

are going to pass among
you with our petition.

And I do hope that you
will join us in our struggle

to save this noble, old home.

(PEOPLE APPLAUDING)

What are you doing here?

Well, your daddy's off
getting us some tools.

I thought I'd take a
look at the new job.

You better take a look
at it from over here.

That side of the street's
enemy territory right now.

Signatures, huh, they're getting
on petitions? Are they getting any?

I imagine they're
getting a few, sure.

Oh, dear. Never thought
I'd live to see the day

when I'd be against your
grandma on something like this,

and her on the side
of the Baldwin sisters.

(CHUCKLING)

Well, life is full of
surprises, isn't it, Grandpa?

Miss Emily.

Mr. Walton, how nice to see you.

I don't believe you've
signed our petition yet.

No, I don't believe I have.

Well, that can be
remedied post-haste.

Just sign right here.

Esther, haven't
you told her yet?

I was too ashamed.

Ashamed? After me going out on
my own and getting the first big job

I've had in many a
day, you are ashamed?

GRANDMA: That's right.

You're trying my
patience, Esther.

I'm trying your patience?

Sister, I think we should leave.

Ladies, Miss Emily, Miss Mamie.

I know that you ladies are all worked
up about saving this dear old house

and I don't blame you. I'm all
for saving landmarks myself.

Why, I've got my favorite tree
and my patches of wildflowers

such as I'm on speaking
terms with, I know how you feel.

But this case is different.

This old house is gonna be torn
down. It's condemned, it's dangerous.

Somebody is going to tear it
down and I am going to do the job.

Mr. Walton, you're going to
tear down the Whitley House?

That is just about
the size of it.

Sister, Mr. Walton's
going to tear down...

I heard.

Mr. Walton, I cannot believe
that I could feel so angry

with someone I have been
so fond of for so many years.

I'm sorry you feel
that way, Miss Mamie.

I truly am.

What've you been doing here?

Oh, nothing, just some, uh,
simple thoughts and phrases

to get started on
my editorial, that's all.

Oh, dear.

Well, I guess I'd better
be gettin' out of here.

(GRUNTING)

Grandma, you about ready to go?

Before I met your grandpa, I spent
the happiest days of my life in there.

When I was a little girl, Mrs.
Whitley used to ask us in and then

bring out trunks with hats and
gowns from the Civil War days

and we would play dress-up.

Oh, it was a magical time.

Aren't you coming to bed?

Oh, I'll be there in
a minute, Esther.

What are you doing?

Well, I'm trying to figure out
what to do with all that fine wood

in the interior of
the Whitley place.

You still insist on
going through with it?

Well, we run a mill,

and all that beautiful wood will
make some exceptional furniture.

Is it so important, a
few loads of wood?

Esther, this is not
just any ordinary wood.

Whatever you call it. We
can live without it, can't we?

Well, we've done without
a lot of things in our life,

but this wood is
something I happen to want.

And it doesn't matter to
you how I feel, does it?

Saving a memory doesn't
mean a thing to you.

These are hard times, Esther,
and we just can't eat memories.

What has got into
you, old woman?

I'm sick of this Depression.

And that we can sell our soul because
we've got the Depression to blame it on,

and I'm sick of it.

You're just working
yourself into a state.

Yes, I'm wrought up, and
I intend to get more so.

What's going on down here?

Thought that new lightning
rod was getting a work-out.

I knew he was
stubborn, but this...

Ma, Pa, will you
go to bed, please?

We can settle our own argument.

Grandma... All
right, come on, Liv.

I will not have any more words
with you on this matter, Esther.

Go on to bed.

Well, I want words.
I want it talked out.

Very well, madam.

What if it was this house?

What if it was our children, our
grandchildren that had lived here,

then how would you feel?

That hasn't
anything to do with it.

We do not have sentimental
attachments to the old Whitley place.

Well, I'm attached to it
and you should be, too.

Aside from the
wood that I can save,

that Whitley place is
nothing but a claptrap fire trap.

Well, I knew you
could be stubborn.

But I didn't know you
could be heartless.

(DOOR CLOSES)

She's trying to make me mad.

Grandma, let me try that.

I'm just trying to lift
up my spirits a little.

You're playing it in the
wrong key. Key of G.

You know I don't
read notes. Go on.

Your Professor Thaxton
hear you play that?

Well, I'm afraid they don't
think much of this kind of music

at the Kleinberg Conservatory.

It doesn't seem right.

You know, when I was young

and I was feeling lowly and
didn't care about anything,

I'd pick out the notes on that
and I'd be feeling better in no time.

You know something?
It still works.

No, no, no. You keep it.

And when the feeling strikes
you, you'll see what I mean.

(PIANO AND VIOLIN PLAYING)

Well, there's, uh,
work to do on it, Hollis,

but you're coming along.

Well, Jason messed up
the whole second movement.

No, I didn't. I just
changed a few chords.

You're supposed to be
accompanying, Jason, not improvising.

Well, I thought it would
make it sound better.

This isn't your country
hoe-down, you know.

I'm afraid that
Hollis is right, Jason.

Improvising is for the
Saturday night barn dance.

I'm sorry.

I thought it would
make it more personal.

THAXTON: What was that?

I thought it would
make it more personal.

Well, I'm sure that

Haydn had his reasons for
writing this piece as he did.

Now, this was
intended as a dialog.

What I've heard so far has
sounded more like a war.

Now, let's try it again, boys.

(MACHINE WHIRRING)

You and grandma sure had
a set-to last night, didn't you?

Once your grandma gets her
dander up, she'll go all the way.

That's for sure.

Tell me something, Grandpa.

What do you know
about this Whitley place?

About how long ago do
you reckon it was built?

Well, early 1800s thereabout.

A lot of fine houses built all
along the valley in those days.

Real craftsmanship then.

Why, they'd make a fireplace mantle
out of one long piece of curly maple.

Hand-carved and
scrolled into pretty designs.

Oh, in those days,

a house was something to hand
down from generation to generation.

Isn't that exactly what
Grandma was saying?

That's true. But what
the dear lady forgets is

that a house, like anything
else, is something built by man.

When its time comes,
like anything else,

it goes back to the Earth
from whence it come.

Yeah, I don't think you're
ever gonna convince her of that.

Yes. That old Whitley
place, time has come for it.

It's like an old tree, you
know. Dead tree, rotten.

Ready to fall, when the
first wind comes along.

Maybe kill someone if it goes
down. Widow makers, we call them.

Already, there, that house is just
full of curious kids running around,

that'd fall through
the rotten floor.

Tramps, they could
set fire to it some night

and spread the flames
all down the street.

That there lady
don't think about that.

Well, one thing's sure.

Whatever you
write in your editorial

is gonna open up
a basket of snakes.

My editor tells me that if something
is not worth disagreeing about,

it's not worth writing about.

GRANDPA: You just
write what your side is.

Oh, I intend to.

"Cost what it may."

What's that supposed to mean?

Oh, it's an old quotation you
threw at me one time or another.

Henry David Thoreau, in case
you've forgotten. Which I doubt.

"Cost what it may. If I have unjustly
wrestled a plank from a drowning man,

"I must restore it to him at any
cost. Even if I drown myself."

And I have no idea what that's
got to do with the Whitley place.

(MACHINE WHIRRING)

Halt, who goes there? What?

What are you
doing? I'm on guard.

Who's the enemy?

I don't know. But there are a lot of
houses being torn down around here

and I'm not gonna
let them get mine.

You seem pretty
certain about that.

Well, I'm the landlord.

Hey, landlord, why don't you
come with me down to Rockfish?

What for? We'll snoop
around the old Whitley place.

Take a look. Sure.

Come on.

Leave your gun.

Think we should go in?

Well, of course we should
go in. The door's open.

I'll wait here.

You might miss
something real good.

All right.

Hey, wait for me.

Jim-Bob, look at this
room in here, will you?

Like in one of those
Dracula movies.

Can you imagine
the kind of people

that used to live
in a house like this?

What about the people
who are living here now?

Half-human bats with fangs,
hanging upside down in the basement.

Look at that. Isn't
that a shame?

Hey, Jim-Bob, look at
this. Pickwick Papers.

I bet this is an old one.

Might be trap-doors around.
Better watch where you step.

These rails are really
something, aren't they?

Hey, Jim-Bob, look at this.

Do you see these marks up here
on the wall, you know what that is?

That's where they measured how tall
the children were getting every year.

Just like we do on
the stairs at home.

Maybe that's how the vampire
that lives here counts his victims.

One corpse buried under
the fireplace for every mark.

This must be the backyard.

Yeah, this is the
backyard out here.

I bet at night weird organ
music comes out of the woodwork

and ghosts dance
all over the place.

(STEPS CREAKING)

Talk about your
woodwork. Look at that.

They just don't make it
like this anymore, do they?

Look at the painting
on the walls there.

(CLICKS TONGUE)

I bet we couldn't even turn
out stuff like this at our mill.

We're gonna open one of these doors
and a big hairy arm is gonna come out.

Really a shame to
see all this go to waste.

Jim-Bob. Hey, Jim-Bob.

Jim-Bob.

I know what I'm going
to write in that editorial.

I know exactly what I'm
going to write in that editorial.

Good. Can we go now?

No. I know exactly what I will
say. I've got it all figured out.

Can you write it at home?
I wanna get out of here.

Let's go.

Yeah. Let's go.

The place gives me the creeps.

Grandpa? Uh-huh?

Supper's ready.

I'll be in later.

He's chopping wood.
He said he'll be in later.

(GRUNTS)

Here, I'll help you out.

Ben. Just stop it.

You shouldn't be doing that.

Zeb.

We're sitting down to supper.

Sit. I'll be in when I'm ready.

I thought you'd outgrown this.

Outgrown what?

Chopping out your
anger on a wood pile.

I'm not chopping out my anger.
I am venting my exasperation.

Pure exasperation.

Well, how do you
think I feel, Zeb?

We've had a lifetime
together, and you've...

You've forgotten everything
that I value the most.

I haven't forgotten anything.

I like all the old
things. Just like you.

The old houses, the old
mountains, the old books.

And if I had a few
dollars in my pocket,

I would restore that
old house. But I haven't.

That old house has been standing
there dilapidated for years and years.

Not a whisper out of any of you.

Where were you and your
ladies with your petition then?

Just answer me that.

You're miles away from
what I'm talkin' about.

Esther,

if I knew what in the blue
blazes you were talking about,

I could enter into
your conversation.

But I don't know. And I
don't think you know, either.

That's twice they've
been yelling at each other.

I hate that old house.

Somebody just here?

Ike just left.

Is that what I think it is?

Your editorial is on Page 4.

Have you read it yet?

We thought you might
like to read it to us.

Oh, no, no, no. Go ahead, Son.

I think you ought to
pass it among yourselves.

John-Boy, we'd rather hear you.

From the horse's mouth.

Well, all right.

You might regret it.

Page 4.

"An editorial by
John Walton, Jr.

"It is amazing how quickly a town can
grow right under the feet of its residents.

"The symbols of the
past are swept away

"by a sometimes reckless
and irresponsible future.

"But we must be ever mindful
that what is important to our lives

"is never swept away uncritically
in the name of progress.

"Our roots, for good or ill,
are firmly planted in the past.

"Without them,
like a poplar tree

"torn up by a winter
storm, we would fall.

"And lying without proper orientation
to the sun, we would molder and decay."

So true, John-Boy.

John-Boy, where's
that green tie of yours?

Uh, Jason.

Yeah, I'll tell you in a minute.

(CLEARS THROAT)

"A controversy that
has split the town in two

"must soon be resolved,

"as we decide the fate
of the old Whitley House

"on the corner of
Jefferson and Elm.

"After a thorough investigation
of the facts at hand,

"there is not enough money
in the community at this time

"to restore the building,

"and in its present condition, it
presents a hazard to our children.

"Given this situation,
there seems no alternative

"to the removal of the old home.

"However, those who have awakened
us by protesting long and hard

"over the destruction
of this historic old house,

"should take nurture in the fact

"that the wood that has
graced its rooms for so long

"might some day be a
mantel in their own home

"or perhaps in the
house down the street.

"Or it may become a part of a
kneeling rail in the Episcopal Church,

"or the tables of the library.

"In that way, the Whitley House
could always continue as a part of us

"in a way that the shabby old building
on Jefferson and Elm never could."

(GRUNTS)

JOHN: Pa.

I've got work to do.

Well, it sure was
a big hit, wasn't it?

I think you wrote it very
well, and I'm proud of you.

You didn't expect to please
anybody, did you? Oh, no.

No, I just thought an editorial
was supposed to make people think.

I guess this one didn't
do it, though, did it?

When he reads all those names on
that petition, he'll change his mind.

The people have spoken.

With 21 names, he
can scarcely refuse.

Well, if he does, as Vice
President of the Historical Society,

I will move that we vote
the man out of office.

As President, I'll
second the motion.

Miss Baldwin. BOTH: Yes?

The supervisor has asked
me to thank you and your group.

And he's sorry he can't do more.

He is going to halt the
destruction on the Whitley House?

I am sorry, ladies, but the
demolition has already begun.

Oh.

Oh. Emily,

I don't know how I'm going to
face Esther Walton with this news.

(KNOCKING ON DOOR)

Grandma, aren't you ready yet?
We're about to leave in a minute.

Thank you, Livie, but
I'd just as soon not go.

Now, sitting here all by yourself
isn't going to make you feel any better.

Well, there wouldn't
be any joy in it, Livie.

I know, but Jason's
expecting you.

He's gonna be mighty disappointed
if he looks out in the audience

and you're not there.

Yeah, I suppose you're right.

Well, I'll put on my hat.

Mighty slow
getting started, huh?

(SHUSHING)

(COUGHING)

JASON: Hey, Hollis.

Jason, did you bring the music?

I thought you had it.

It was on the rack
in the rehearsal hall.

Now it's gone.

That Felicia.
She took it, I'll bet.

Well, can't you
play it from memory?

We practiced it enough times.

You mean you can't play at all
without the music in front of you?

Look at them all.

Well, we've got to
give them something.

How about Greensleeves?

But I don't know it.

Sure you do. It's the one
that goes... (SCATTING)

You don't understand. I know the
tune. I just can't play it without music.

In fact, I can't play
anything without music.

Hollis, I'll tell you what.

This is going to be our recital.

This right here. This?

Mmm-hmm.

Go out there and do your stuff.

Ladies and gentlemen, we
have a slight change in program.

May I present my
partner, Jason Walton.

(AUDIENCE APPLAUDING)

Thank you.

Hollis and I will be performing
some classical music

from the hills of Virginia.

(PEOPLE MURMURING)

For next week, our
advanced theory class

will continue the
study of Haydn.

You remember him, don't you?

(ALL LAUGHING)

But perhaps for now,

we could have some more of
Jason's Virginia classical music.

Do you know Cindy?

(WHISPERING) Start
it, and I'll pick it up.

(HAMMERING) What
is going on in there?

Hammering. Hammering what?

Oh, I don't know. Grandpa's
in there hammering.

I don't know what's going on.

Where's everybody else?

Still at Jason's concert.

Oh.

(HAMMERING CONTINUES)

What is that in there?
What is he doing?

Told you. I guess
he's keeping it secret.

Something awful mysterious
going on in there, Grandpa.

Yes, indeedy. John-Boy, when
your grandmother gets home,

ask her to pop into the bedroom.

Hmm. All right.

Has anybody thought
about supper yet?

Hmm, my stomach has.

Here they are.

Hey. Hey, everybody.

You boys don't know
what you missed.

The concert was wonderful.

Wonderful? All that
long-haired music?

You don't know what
you're talking about, Ben.

Go on, Jason. Show your
brothers what they missed.

Doesn't sound to me
like they want to hear it.

Oh, sure.

Play it, play it, Jason. Go on.

Oh, Grandma? Grandpa wanted
to talk to you. He's in the bedroom.

I don't know what it was about.

All he said was that when you
came in, he wanted to see you.

(PIANO PLAYING)

Zeb?

Well, you finally got here.

GRANDMA: The
Whitley House window.

Zebulon Walton, will you
never stop surprising me?

You always said you wanted to see
what Walton's Mountain looked like

through the Whitley
House window.

Do you remember that
tune from somewhere?

Yes. I played if for you on the
front porch of the old Whitley place

when we went there
for a dance one night.

I thought about it when I was
bringing the window over here today.

I remember something else, too.

Out there in the porch, you
sort of reached up your arms

you gave me a little peck.

You kissed me.

Oh, so I did.

Just listen to it, Esther.

Brings it all back, doesn't it?

I thought you'd forgotten.

JOHN-BOY: The window
was just the beginning.

My father and grandfather parceled
out the doors and mantels and paneling

of the old Whitley House
to our friends and neighbors.

Somehow, that bit of
history in each of their homes

brought us all a
little closer together.

JIM-BOB: Grandpa? Is
the lightning rod working?

GRANDPA: You
go to sleep, Jim-Bob.

I'll wake you up the first sign

that the lightning
rod is doing its duty.

Good night, Grandpa.

Esther, don't I rate
a good night kiss?

(LIPS SMACKING)

Mmm. Well.

GRANDMA: What's wrong?

When you kissed me, I'd
have sworn a lightning rod

ran a bolt smack down
here in the room with us.

Oh, you big talker.

(CHUCKLING) Good
night, everybody.