Fashion notes first . . .
Roger's traded in the smoking jacket for that natty double-breasted suit coat.
This next one is kind of marginal, but I had to comment. The guy playing Amos Fitch either had terrible dandruff or the makeup people went all out in the spirit of verisimilitude or what.
If David's blazer were double-breasted, I'd conjecture he and Roger were wearing matching father-son outfits, but no, it's not. There he is with the little pocket square and everything and it just looks so wrong. We got it; the family is upper class and old money. The sets and Joan Bennett's never-ending wardrobe established that. We don't need to do see David in Richie Rich attire to establish that.
Onto the show . . .
Francis and Lela brought us both of these episodes. They have absolutely nothing in common. It's still Day 11. The first episode has eight whole actors. DC must have had a fit. The second one is down to four. Maybe to compensate? That Rule of Six thing and all.
So we open in Burke's hotel suite and the start of a rather dull and mercifully short-lived subplot begins. Turns out there's a cannery in the next town (Logansport) which Burke wants to buy. Once he gets going, he's going to ruin the Collins family and their little dog too. His banker/advisor James Blair (no relation to Nicholas) is there to provide the necessary exposition.
My first big knock against my beloved Francis Swann comes with the next scene at Collinwood. Roger is back on his "Vicki is crazy" kick, which makes no sense given that he's talking with Elizabeth. Since the last episode had them holding up dripping wet seaweed and talking about ghosts they have known, I'm unclear why we're supposed to find this logical or even compelling television viewing. Also, Vicki seems bound and determined to leave their employ and having expressed this to them, well, isn't that overkill?
Then Mr. Garner calls (I'm guessing this is Richard rather than Frank, but since we neither hear nor see him, we'll never know). He relays the information about the Logansport deal. Elizabeth immediately wants to pony up the cash for a bid, but Roger points out she's not exactly swimming in the stuff. Inexplicably, he's ready to admit defeat. Oh, Francis, how could you do this to me? I hate plot-driven writing. Ugh.
I believe it's still supposed to be morning, but Burke and Mr. Blair are already hitting the sauce. Ah, the good old days, when liquid lunches were socially acceptable. Burke doesn't think much about his competition and dismisses all of Elizabeth's family. Okay, I admit that I am no corporate expert, but really, the only player in her family that a business person would care about is Roger, possibly. And maybe not even then. What the hell does it matter how loyal a nine-year-old kid is? Unless Auntie Liz is going to be having sweet little David cooking the books, who cares? Blair is more on target when he points out that Liz has an expert workforce. Burke feels this is no obstacle. Everybody has a price
To this end, Burke's called a little meeting. I love the shot of Blair smoking heavily in the foreground with Burke is in the back setting up bottles of booze. The four "experts" arrive. The casting people did a nice job. They've got four rough-around-the-edges men, three of them big, beefy looking guys (one of them played by a young Dolph Sweet) and they're clearly uncomfortable in their suits and ties. The names are good too, although because of the way Mitchell Ryan butchers them, I had to look them up in one of KLS' books to get them down. We have Amos Fitch, ably played by George Mathews. He's got the most lines. Then there's Zeb Cartwright, Ezra Ahern (also listed as Herne and Ahearne in the books), and Adam Bilodeau.
Burke begins by promising to throw a lot of cash their way. I can't say that any of them appear receptive, but they're listening. Blair gives an oily little spiel. If any of you have ever worked in a corporate setting, you've heard it or the equivalent. There's some kind of profit-sharing incentive too.
Back at the ranch, Roger is grimly suggesting surrender. Yeah, that'll work. Dear, dear Roger. You don't have a choice. You fight or you die.
You can practically see the cigarette smoke wafting around the hotel suite, it's that thick. Mitchell Ryan, who had his own share of problems, is totally blowing his scenes. You can tell he's messing up the lines because the guy playing Amos is madly trying to read the TelePrompTer because Ryan's screwed up the cues. Then the actor playing Zeb Cartwright is looking dazed, which is no surprise. In the space of five minutes, Ryan has referred to him as Jim, Sam, and Zeb. Amos takes off (I think ahead of schedule).
Is a qualified workforce in what I thought was a depressed industry and economy really that hard to come by? Also, these guys look like they're line operators--at best. I'm not saying they aren't good at what they do, but c'mon. This new cannery is supposed to be in the next town. Are they going to be engaging in covert sardine snatching tactics? I can see that a rival concern might wreck havoc by messing up with distributing contracts or something, but how are these four guys so key? Maybe I'm wrong, but it makes no real sense.
Roger's the first one to theorize that Burke means to steal away their key employees. Elizabeth doesn't believe it will happen. Her people are loyal. I have to say, her unique gift for getting men to do whatever she wants (Bill, Matthew, and so on) aside, that seems somewhat shortsighted.
Amos is one of the Devoted and he drops in to let Mrs. Stoddard know about Burke's nefarious plans. Now he renames poor Zeb Cartwright Zeb Carter. The look on Elizabeth's face when she hears about the profit-sharing incentive is priceless. Yeah, loyalty is great, lady, but it don't pay my bills.
Meanwhile, Burke basks in the afterglow. He sold them. He thinks. Blair, however, is less optimistic. Burke figures so what if Amos squealed. He's got at least one of the other three. Once whoever his new employee is starts throwing around all the dough he's got, the others will come begging for jobs. Yeah, those four extras so look like the type of people who throw money around. Bury it in the backyard is more like, but okay. It's a poorly written scene and Mitchell Ryan ain't doing it any favors. I think he's a tremendously talented performer, but there's no evidence of that in this episode. John Baragrey (James Blair) is carrying the scene. The phone rings and it's Liz. The gloves, as they say, are off.
Total change of pace for the next episode and for the two people on the planet (and no, I'm not one of them) wondering if Zeb, Ezra, and Adam are going to leave for greener pastures, I guess you'll all have to wait. We are back to Miss Victoria Winters. The sad little plaid suitcase is out on the bed and she's busy packing. This surprises David. He's still in sociopathic mode and lies about having locked her up. There's some disturbing discussion about playing that old childhood standby game: funeral! They get onto the topic of ghosts and Vicki tells him about seeing the late Bill Malloy.
With that, Vicki has found the magic key into David's stony little heart. Or rather, she has found the key into not finding herself driving a car with a missing bleeder valve. Apparently, since a ghost has deigned to appear before Miss Winters, that must mean that she's good people. David also loves the idea that Bill was murdered.
Carolyn thinks this change of heart is fantastic news. Yeah, sure. It just means that David is now not going to try and actively kill Vicki. Sounds like a compelling reason to stay to me. They talk about Bill (having kicked David out of the room). Carolyn is skeptical about Bill's return, but gets understandably freaked by learning that Bill appeared singing his favorite song, "What Do You Do with a Drunken Sailor?" I can relate. How the hell would Vicki know that? Who in their right mind has a favorite song like that? I can believe that there are plenty of people who like tunes in the public domain, but it's like saying, "My favorite song ever is 'A Hundred Bottles of Beer on the Wall.'"
Matthew is out in the hallway changing the locks. Hmm, that man has talents. There's no doubt about that. He and David chat. The version of Vicki's traumatic night has been heavily edited by Mrs. Stoddard so that now Vicki managed to get herself lost and shut up in the West Wing. David is not a player anymore. Having learned the lesson that his family will clean up his messes for him, David distracts Matthew away from the door just in time for the girls to return to the scene of the crime. David sneaks into Vicki's room and reads her account of her ghostly visitor. Aloud. With Matthew standing outside. As David theorizes that the reason for the new lock is to keep the late Mr. Malloy upstairs, Matthew becomes unnecessarily agitated.
Up in the attic, Vicki finishes the tour. Carolyn is suitably creeped out. She also would rather believe that Vicki dreamt the whole thing. It occurs to me that DS would be useful viewing for anyone studying denial. The seaweed is all gone now so hey, she must have made it up! Also the key no longer sticks under the door. Vicki, I might add, is less interested than Carolyn than proving her state of consciousness. She looks more closely at the sheet of paper she used to try and get the key. It's a ledger and on it she finds the name of Garner & Garner and the name "B. Hanscombe."
Back in the bedroom all safe and sound, David looks at Vicki squarely in the face and pronounces "I love you!" before stomping out. This prompts yet another charming anecdote. This time it turns out that the only other time David said that (like he didn't say it to his mother, ha!) was to a kitten, who he promptly drowned.
Run away, run away, now.
