We start with a wide pan across the open area before settling on a shot of Pete's closed office door. From inside, we hear what sounds like a recorded comedy routine, and then cut to a closeup of a record player playing a Bob Newhart offering. The boys are gathered in Pete's office and laughing at this brash newcomer, and Ken, between puffs of smoke, tells us that Newhart used to be an accountant. Hildy then enters and tells Pete his wife is there, and it's not like I blame her for not having a sunny disposition given her boss, but her manner when dealing with him is so chilly I'm surprised the record didn't crack on the spot. Pete exits his office and smarmily greets Trudy as "Lovely" and reintroduces her to the "fellas." She gives Harry a kiss and asks after his wife, subtly indicating his greater worth than Ken in her eyes as a family man, and then when the boys dissipate, Pete asks if they have a lunch date of which he was unaware. She says no, but she's taking him away regardless, and after some initial resistance, he smiles and accedes. She tells him their destination is a surprise, and then when Don and Peggy approach, Pete holds his coat in front of his pants to hide his excitement at the exquisite timing. Well, half-exquisite, as Pete happily introduces Trudy to Don, but while Don suavely tells her she's a "lucky girl," Pete and Peggy exchange a knowing look. Peggy takes off, and Don continues laying it on, saying that Pete's "essential to the process" around there, and they're almost as happy to have him as she is. Don takes his leave, and Pete's typical look of vague misapprehension after dealing with Don is punctuated by Trudy's remark that he's so nice. "Not at all like what I imagined." Hee. Arm in arm, the Campbells walk out...
...and after an establishing shot of a tall residential building, Pete and Trudy are in an empty apartment, which Trudy gushes is fifteen hundred square feet and has two nice bedrooms plus a maid's room, and will probably come at thirty thousand dollars. Pete condescendingly starts to tell her that he wants to give her everything, but...Trudy, however, sunnily says that they can get a mortgage. Oh, the good old days. Pete informs her that his yearly pay is thirty-five hundred, and ten percent down would be a year's salary. Trudy has apparently considered this already, though, as she says they're not in it alone. "We're a young couple that needs a little help." Not sure how filling that maid's room is going to aid your financial situation, Trudy, but I did see a balcony out there on top of everything else, so go for it!
Some non-speaking extras exit the boardroom, followed closely by Don, Ken, and Harry. Just then, Paul and Rachel round the corner and spot them. Don mans up and approaches, but Rachel greets him as "Mr. Draper," before saying she wasn't expecting to see him back there. Oh, Rachel. You could take lessons from Hildy about being cold, and lessons from Peggy about keeping affairs secret. Don explains that they were screening a TV commercial. "It'll probably look better when it's breaking up Bonanza." Rachel doesn't react to that; instead, indicating Paul, she says that his work is wonderful, and he's perfect for Menken's. Paul, reading the hallway, says that he'll let Don see Rachel out and skedaddles, no doubt to run into Pete's office and whisper, "Check out the scene I just witnessed!" Those boys are bigger hens than any typing pool. Don asks how she is, and Rachel tells him fine. "My family's fine, the weather's been spectacular." Don tells her he doesn't want things between them to be like this, but Rachel doesn't see any other way, and turns down his invitation to have lunch together sometime flat.
While it's still light out, Betty wraps up reading a fairy tale (Snow White?) to Sally and tells her her dad will be in in the morning. Then, Betty is walking Polly when she comes to Helen Bishop's house and sees her ostensible ex-husband agitatedly begging her to open the door. Whether Helen is home or not, she doesn't comply, so the guy, alerted by Polly's barking, asks Betty if he can use her phone, as he's supposed to see his kids. Betty tells him no, though, as she doesn't let strange men into her home, unless they're cute enough to be the stuff of washing-machine-related fantasies. The guy looks stunned at her refusal, and Betty goes trotting off back toward her home...
...and later, she's in her nightgown when she answers the doorbell. It's Helen, who's mortified about the earlier incident. Betty tries to play dumb, as any good WASP would, but Helen clarifies that she was at the window. Betty asks if Helen ended up letting her ex in, and the answer is a reluctant yes, with the obligatory addition that "He's not a bad man." Her worry is understandable -- if word got out that she married a bad man, the other women on the block would totally not respect her. Betty asks if Helen would like some coffee...
...and then they're both lighting up as Helen is telling Betty that "Dan" hardly saw the kids when they were married (he works in Manhattan in life insurance) and now that they're split up, he can't live without them. Hey, did you guys notice that "Dan" and "Don" are pretty similar? And their names are pretty close, too! Helen tries some gallows humor that goes nowhere, and then Betty uncomfortably asks what happened. Helen tells her that Dan had a lot of friends in the city -- "poker, tennis, drinks at the River Club" -- but none of them turned out to be men. Betty looks down and clarifies that she really just wanted to know what happened that night, but Helen figured she'd come out with the truth, as all the women on the block have probably been guessing it anyway. Betty denies that, but Helen resumes her story, saying that her dad got a lawyer who took Dan apart in court, and now he's angrier with her than she is with him. Betty, ever the expert on changing the subject, says she's always loved Helen's house, and then she's spared further discussion of subjects with unconscious resonance by Don's arrival home. Don gives Helen a curt and unfriendly hello and heads upstairs, but Betty is unfazed, explaining that when he gets home from work he has to have complete quiet for a while. Helen, reasonably enough, takes this as her cue to leave.
Speaking of WASP repression, Pete is sitting with his dad, and the furniture is all so well-covered that Blythe Danner's character on Will And Grace would be appreciatively envious. Pete's dad tells him that the boat's in the water, and his cousin Sarah had her baby, and named it after Pete's uncle Skip. Pete's mom then comes in and expresses her hope that he and Trudy will make it out to the house at Fisher's Island that summer, but Pete isn't sure he'll be able to get the time off work. Pete's dad: "Work. I still don't understand what you do." That's too bad, because I was hoping you could explain it to me. Pete's dad, however, goes on that he runs into Pete in restaurants and at the club, and he claims he's working. "Wining and whoring." Well, I assume he meant "wining" and not "whining," although Pete does a fair amount of the latter as well. Pete's dad adds that it's "no job for a white man," and wow, do I not have the faintest idea of what to say to that. Pete tells his dad that he can't explain how business works to him, and then mentions the apartment, which he tells us is on 83rd and Park. Asshole Dad sniffs that the neighborhood "falls off" after 79th, but his wife opines that that's only true after 86th. I'd add that if a hothouse orchid like Trudy can handle living that close to whatever non-white element it is to which they're referring, their precious Pete is likely to be just fine. Pete asks for help with the down payment, but his dad turns him down, saying he doesn't think it's a good idea. Pete: 'You thought it was a good idea to help Bud when he hit that girl on her bike in Montauk last summer." Well, sure, but he's got a much better name than you, Pete. In a family of Buds and Skips, what chance does a Pete have? Pete's mom leaves the room, as clutching at empty air isn't as dramatic as using real pearls, while his dad actually reproaches him for the lapse in his manners. Funny -- this is about as much respect as I remember having for Pete. Pete promises to pay his dad back, but when that doesn't move him, he stands and bitterly asks why it's so hard for "you people" to give him anything. Pete's dad, however, obnoxiously tells him that they gave him his name. "And what have you done with it?"
Later, as the two of them are getting into bed, Trudy asks Pete about his visit, and he lies and tells her he didn't bring up the apartment issue. "My dad's been having some health problems." Trudy sympathetically asks what's wrong with him, and Pete takes a while before answering, "Nobody knows." From how pleasant he is to be around, I'd guess hemorrhoids.
Pete ushers some client, "Walter," into the conference room, wherein wait Don and Sal. After a little golf talk, we learn that Walter represents a steel account, and Don launches into his pitch, which is that most people take steel for granted. He turns over one piece of artwork, which is of the Brooklyn Bridge in splashy colors with the tagline: "New York City. Brought to you by Bethlehem Steel." There are similar ads using other big U.S. cities, but Walter thinks they're a little plain. Don tells him they can throw the artwork out in a minute, earning a prissy, beleaguered sigh from Sal. Heh. Don presses the idea, though, saying that it's so basic that "you feel like you already know it -- you just haven't thought of it lately." Just like I know Pete's a prick -- it just hasn't crossed my mind recently. Walter muses, "Cities are made of steel," and Pete smarms, "Bethlehem Steel." Aaaaand now I've thought of it recently. Walter, however, feels that the ads overemphasize the cities, and it feels like Bethlehem is coming off as "a middleman for another product." Don's not thrilled, given that the campaign is close to what he and Walter had previously discussed, but Pete of course throws Don under the bus, and assures Walter that Don will be able to come up with something more satisfactory. He suggests that Walter stay in town another day so as to give them a chance to come up an alternative, and then makes for the exit, but Don says that Sal can show Walter out. Sal does not get a "Someone's in trooooouble" look on his face, which just goes to show how peeved he is at the criticism of his artwork. When they're gone, Don rips a strip off Pete, saying that Walter was psyched for the idea three months earlier, and if Pete had done his job, he still would be. He tells Pete to be the schmoozer his job entails and to leave the ideas to him, but Pete intones, "I have ideas." He rants about how said ideas are good, citing direct marketing as a concept he thought of independently. "And then I come to this place, and you people tell me that I'm good with people. Which is strange, because I'd never heard that before." HA! It may not be apparent because I loathe his character so much, but I adore Vincent Kartheiser and pretty much always have, and if he hasn't put that little speech on his reel yet, he should get on that. Pete leaves, and Don sighs...
...and then at home, Don is looking at the artwork again. The phone rings, and Betty manages to use one of her no free hands to grab it as she finishes up dinner. It's Helen, her hair in curlers, who tells Betty that she's supposed to be stuffing envelopes at Kennedy headquarters that night. Well, she's too liberated for her neighbors and she's attracted to philanderers. What did you expect? Anyway, Helen's babysitter canceled on her, so she asks Betty to watch the kids. Betty's not thrilled with the idea, but her inability to say no wins out. She hangs up and looks at the kids in the room with Don...
...and then she's showing up at Helen's door. Helen's son Glen is playing the piano, and Betty compliments him, but Helen tells him not to wake the baby. She also tells him not to iron, and clarifies for Betty that she gives him five cents a piece. "He loves doing it." Show, you know I love you, but you'll have to pay me a lot more than a nickel to go down that road. Helen mentions her job at the jewelry store, and after some more of their typical small talk (read: Helen = Oversharer, Betty = Uncomfortable), Helen heads out.
Pete and Trudy are now at dinner preparing to hit up the other side of the family, but if Trudy's dad's appreciative comments about the allure of Pete's job are any indication, it's going to be an easier sell. After Trudy's mom breathlessly misinterprets Trudy's announcement of "great news" as "my daughter's baby-making parts are in working order," Trudy tells her parents about the apartment, sounding like she's upselling it, but I don't think it really needs it. Trudy's mom is all over it, but her dad feigns ambivalence as a joke for half a second before everyone laughs. I'm guessing Trudy never once missed getting something from her Christmas list. But actually, "everyone" didn't laugh -- Pete, in fact, is trying to torpedo his wife's efforts, although it's not totally clear why -- he could find the situation generally emasculating, or he might not want to face his family, given that it would be obvious that his wife was the one that came up with the money. Trudy's dad heartily tells Pete to call him either "Tom" or "Dad," and having a serious aversion to the latter, Pete goes with the former. He measuredly says he thinks they'd rather wait, but Tom says they should start their lives already. "Waiting's a bunch of bullshit." He goes on that it's an investment for him in Pete, and for an apartment on Park Avenue I think Pete could GET OVER HIMSELF. Trudy gives Pete a "That's enough, honey look, and he subsides.
Later, in a cab, Trudy is resting her head on Pete's shoulder as she contentedly sighs that she knew her parents would help them. Pete balefully says he knows she did, but he's not sure taking that kind of money is wise, and he's not sure what it means. Trudy: "It means we get the apartment." She's got an unexpected practicality to her. Basically, Pete is trying to position himself as upset that as the man, he didn't come through, but what is really bothering him is that Trudy has the sort of approval from her parents that he lacks and desperately wants. Trudy mollifies him eventually, however, and gets the cab to turn up Park so they can look at their new building. She then mentions the Armory, and asks, "When are they gonna tear that dinosaur down?" Heh -- that's a little nod to New Yorkers who know that that dinosaur is still alive and well and on Twenty-Sixth Street.
Glen, in his PJs, and Betty are sitting on the couch watching TV, and then Betty excuses herself for a moment. In the bathroom, she checks out the contents of the drawers before sitting down to use the commode; however, she doesn't get far before the door handle turns. Betty snaps that she's in there, but that doesn't stop Glen from opening the door anyway. Unfortunately for him, he sees nothing, as Betty's flowing dress is so long that it covers not only her parts but the entire toilet as well. Betty awkwardly gets to her feet and sharply tells the "young man" that the room is occupied, and asks what's wrong with him. Honey, please. Betty slams the door.
Glen's back watching TV (The Real McCoys, as Helen mentioned earlier) when Betty stalks back in and turns it off, asking what he has to say for himself. He casts his eyes downward, so she grabs his arm and scolds him, but when he continues not to face her, her tone softens as she explains that the room is private, and that's all she's trying to say. She gets him to look at her and to apologize, and when she gives him a conciliatory pat on the shoulder, he ups it to a full embrace. It's clear that the kid is heartbreakingly, desperately lonely, so it's not really creepy when he tells her that she's pretty -- really pretty. Betty accepts the compliment gracefully. However, when Glen asks how old she is, she pauses for a second before telling him that she's the same age as his mom. She seem to realize this probably isn't quite the case, though, as she asks how old Helen is, and upon hearing she's thirty-two, tells Glen that she's twenty-eight. Man alive, that means she got married when she was twenty or twenty-one. Not that I don't know people who have done that very happily, but for that to be the societal norm is a little unsettling. Glen compliments her hair and says she looks like a princess, and then asks if he could have some of her tresses. Betty's resistant at first, but Glen keeps at her, and this is where we see how childlike Betty is in her own way as she cuts a bit of her hair off and gives it to him before sending him off to bed. Well, it was either that or talk to him about why he wanted it, and it's not like she signed up for this gig, right?
In some bar, Pete is doing just what his father thinks no white man should do -- bringing drinks and girls over to meet Ken and Walter, the Bethlehem client. He introduces the two women as Charlotte and Wendy, his two "cousins." Before I even get a chance to wonder how this escapade will be recounted in the family Christmas update, we get a bit of aside talk between Walter and Pete that implies that these are Pete's kin in the same way that Eliot Spitzer transported his cousin across state lines. Pete orders champagne and more cocktails for the group, and then pitches an idea to Walter about calling Bethlehem "the backbone of America." That's actually not bad for a wining, whoring toady. Walter, however, is more interested in the blonde's backbone than in talking shop. No, seriously, that's just about exactly what he says. Pete looks bummed.
Helen arrives home, gives Betty some whispered pleasantries and a Kennedy pamphlet, and shows her out, saying, "I hope I can return the favor sometime." I don't know -- you don't have quite as much hair to spare as Betty does.
Don's asleep in bed when Betty slides in to him. There's a legal pad on top of him, and Betty takes a quick look at it before putting it on her nightstand, and we see a little sketch of the Brooklyn Bridge with the tagline "New York: Oh Little Town Of Bethlehem." If that's the artwork he goes with, Sal will scratch his eyes out.
But no, the day, we see the sketched representation with Don's tagline. Walter, however, thinks Pete's "backbone" idea came from Don, and says he likes it. Sal is all, "What backbone idea," in a tone that's like, "How the hell am I going to draw that?" Don, however, rolls with this unexpected punch, while Pete practically bursts out of his little suit with glee.
Later, Walter leaves with the usual pleasantries, and then Don gruffly congratulates Pete. Pete, of course unaware of how much trouble he's in, points out that he told Don he had ideas, and adds, "I think I did something good and you got the compliment for it." Don takes a drag off his cigarette and tells Pete to grab a cardboard box and put his things in it. Remarkably, Pete seems to understand what this means, and after Don's gone, Sal sneers, "You picked the wrong time to buy an apartment." Tell that to 2007.
Pete looks like he's going to explode into tears as he heads for his office, wherein Ken and Harry couldn't have picked a worse time to be listening to that Newhart record again. Pete kicks them out, and moments later, from outside, we see his door open and the record (called "The Button-Down Mind Of Bob Newhart) come flying out, jacket and all. Hildy regards them impassively, and then gets back to typing. Heh.
Don comes bursting into Roger's office and tells him what happened, and Roger replies, "That little shit." Those Navy boys have a way with words.
In "his" office, Pete is downing liquor and unsuccessfully trying not to cry. We fade down to his feet...
...and then we cross-fade into another pair of feet, and then pan up to see that they belong to Betty. She's telling Dr. Wayne how hard it was to see Helen's life -- her "sad little job at the jewelry store," frozen food, being exhausted all the time. After a pause, she opines that Helen is jealous of her, but she doesn't know what to do about it. She goes on that she's concerned about Helen's kids, especially Glen, and adds, "The person taking care of him isn't giving him what he needs. You know?" I know it's Betty we're talking about, but I have to agree.
Roger and Don head in to see Bertram, who bids them into seats. He uses a long metaphor to get to the point, which is that Pete's mother's family owned just about everything in Manhattan north of 125th Street. And they're worried about Pete living on 83rd? Bertram goes on that Pete's grandfather panicked and dropped it all in the crash of '29, but he still doesn't want Pete's mother telling her rich friends about how bad Sterling Cooper treated Pete. On top of that, Pete is their "entrée" into many exclusive institutions -- clubs, Dartmouth, even Gracie Mansion. This is a neat answer to the why Sterling and Cooper told Pete that he's good with people when that obviously isn't true. Don still thinks they could get someone else with those connections who isn't Pete, but Bertram replies, "You're going to need a stronger stomach if you're going to be back in the kitchen seeing how the sausage is made." That's the grossest way I've ever heard anyone get fast-tracked. Don eventually bows, and as he and Roger leave, Bertram whistles "This Old Man" to himself. God, I love that old coot.
Soon after, Pete's still lying miserably on his couch when Roger, followed by Don, bursts in and chews Pete out for what he did. With the obvious intention of getting Pete to toe Don's line, he spins a yarn that he and Bertram wanted Pete out, but Don fought for him. Don's plenty smart enough to play along, while Pete's plenty dumb enough actually to believe this. Pete looks to Don and says he doesn't know what to say, but Roger tells him to shut up, and goes on that Don is Pete's commanding officer. "You live and die in his shadow. Understood?" Pete nods his head like a kid in the principal's office who's just been told his parents won't be called, and Roger starts to leave, but Pete tells Don he won't let him down. Roger stops: "Jesus, Campbell! Don't ever say that!" Hee. The men leave, and the boy flops down in relief.
Later, Roger is sitting in Don's office telling him how his generation drinks for the wrong reasons -- Roger's generation drinks because it's good and it's what men do, but Don's drinks to drive away gloomy thoughts and worries. "You're all busy licking some imaginary wound." And once again, the show subtly drives home the point that men and women, gender-identity-wise, were losing their way in this period. Don counters that maybe he's not as comfortable being powerless as Roger is, and Roger, after admonishing Don not to compete with Pete, muses that perhaps every generation thinks the one is the end of it all. "I bet there were people in the Bible walking around complaining about kids today." Herod the Great comes to mind. Don notes that kids today have no one to look up to. "Because they're looking up to us."
Trudy and Pete are back with the realtor in the new place, and after some small talk, they're joined by a neighbor, who's on the co-op board, and Trudy's parents. The neighbor wastes no time in confirming that Pete is from Dyckman (his mother's maiden name) stock, and is pretty clear in her "we can skip the formalities of co-op approval" attitude, but Pete walks out to the balcony, leaving Trudy to gush some story about one of Pete's relatives. Pete's expression is a mixture of contempt toward his family and happiness that his name counts for something, and Ella Fitzgerald sings "Manhattan" as Pete regards the view, and we fade to black.