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Pete isn't happy with his accounts compared to Ken's, so when Duck Phillips calls from a rival agency, Pete agrees to meet him for lunch. When Pete arrives, though, he discovers Peggy there as well, because Duck is under the mistaken impression that Peggy and Pete have a secret, mutually beneficial relationship, and as such he wants them both to come work for him. Pete, however, is so offended by Peggy seemingly stealing his thunder that he quickly walks out, leaving an uncertain Peggy to fend for herself. On his way back into the office, Pete quizzes Hollis, the elevator guy, about his taste in TVs in a way that's reminiscent of Don asking that guy about his cigarette preference in the series premiere, and while Pete is still no Don, he at least manages to bond with Hollis over a Yogi Berra-ism. However, when Pete pitches the idea of marketing their clients' TVs more to African-Americans, the clients shoot him down, and Bertram and Roger chew him out. Pryce, however, takes up for Pete's general idea of there being money to be made in the African-American market, so we'll see what that ends up leading to. Meanwhile, when Don comes back in to work, Peggy asks for her pay to be raised so it's equal to that of the men in the department, but Pryce has already been all up in arms about Creative being too wasteful, so Don shoots her down, much to her dismay.
Betty and Don go in to see Sally's teacher, who is chagrined to learn not only of Gene's death but also of the fact that Sally hasn't been afforded the opportunity to grieve for him. Soon after, Betty goes into labor; while she's agonizing and praying for her doctor to show up, Don has a drink in the waiting room with another expectant father who supplies him with Scotch and regales him with stories about being a prison guard. The guy then tells Don fatherhood is going to force him (the guy) to be a better man, and Don possibly takes that to heart, if his little later bonding conversation with Sally is any indication.
While in a drug-fueled haze, Betty has a weird dream, and she then floats in between a difficult labor and a vision of Gene – and her mother Ruth, who admonishes her for speaking her mind too much. When she comes to, her new son (got that one wrong, she did) is in her arms, and she names him after her father. She comes home, and everything seems fine until I hear the baby making those screechy cries that rip right through you. Betty, get an au pair. You can afford it.
Want more? The full recap starts right below! I don't enjoy saying this, and I'm probably so far out in the cold with this opinion as to be out of the solar system, but I was expecting so much more from this episode. It actually detracted from instead of building on the momentum of the last couple episodes, in my opinion. Not that there weren't great things, of course, but on the whole it just didn't come together for me. Of course, Mercury has been in retrograde this week.In an elementary-school classroom, Don and Betty are awaiting, presumably, a teacher, and since the setting is appropriate for a "You learn something new every day" revelation, I'll tell you that I had no idea pregnancy pads came in the size Betty is currently sporting. If I didn't know now that she's dropping the kid this episode I'd be worried her stomach would be heading into farcical territory. The teacher, who just happens to be she of the maypole dance (at least now we have an explanation of why the camera lingered on her so lovingly in that episode), then enters with the news that she was expecting another couple, but they're apparently not coming, which is good news for Don and Betty, because no matter how awful Sally's been lately they earn a relative gold star over "the Piersons" by being the parents that showed up. There's a cute little moment where the teacher realizes Betty isn't remotely going to fit into the one of the child desks and offers up her own chair, and after the teacher, with a pointed look Don's way, says that it's nice to see both of them there, they get down to business -- Sally initiated a fight with Becky Pierson, complete with hair-pulling and scratching. Frankly, I'm a little disappointed -- with all the trouble Sally's gotten into leading up to this, I was kind of hoping for some broken bones or at least an incident that left teeth marks. After a completely bizarre cut to a shot of Sally wiping blood from her face that feels like it belongs on an entirely different show, Don notes, hilariously echoing my sentiments, that no one needed stitches, as if anything less serious than that didn't raise an eyebrow back on the farm, which is probably the case. Betty pointedly adds that she hears the Pierson girl is "a bruiser," and the teacher admits she's heavy. "The children poke pencils into her sides when she's sitting because they think she can't feel it." I hope there's not that much of a difference when she's standing up, otherwise the children might have, if you will, a point. Betty is gratified to hear that Sally hasn't participated in such bullying, but the teacher points out that the fighting is atypical of Sally, and as such wonders if anything has changed at home. Betty haltingly admits that her father passed away about two weeks ago, and the teacher is immediately mortified at bringing up such a sensitive subject, but then wonders why they didn't notify her. She adds that Sally hasn't missed a day of school, and wonders if she went to the funeral; Betty replies that they wouldn't put her through that, and Don adds that he doesn't think children belong in graveyards, making me hope for his sake that Sally doesn't have a Goth phase anytime soon. The teacher notes that she now understands why Sally was asking so many questions about Medgar Evers's murder, prompting Betty to excuse herself to the ladies' room. When she's gone, the teacher apologizes again, but does add that Sally needs attention, as there's a "special pain" involved with losing someone at that age, although she's not sure if Don can understand that. However, Don simply replies, "I can," holding her gaze slightly longer than he might have, and between that and him showing up at all for the meeting, if he weren't single, I think he'd have the immediate opportunity to have sex in or on an elementary-school desk. However, Betty returns to put paid to any such possibility, and the teacher tells her any behavioral issues with Sally really can wait. Betty asks if she's sure: "I just want to put it behind us. I really just want everything to be okay for when the baby comes." And yet your strategy with your daughter almost ensures that that won't happen. The teacher's reply of "It's going to be a beautiful summer" doesn't exactly agree with me, but then it doesn't exactly disagree, either.
Pryce is reading aloud from an expense report, and I guess people generally find him so likable and charming that he's forced to take measures such as these to lower their expectations. Don enters, late, and after Pryce makes a snarky comment about the same and receives a blandly witty rejoinder, Pryce wonders why Sal put in for twelve dollars more in expenses on the Baltimore trip than Don did. Well, he had to give the bellhop a good tip, no? Pryce then complains about the number of pens and other office sundries that are being consumed, and at this, Don has had enough and leaves the room as early as he entered it late. I will give Pryce credit, however, for not skipping a beat as he moves on to a mystery of a missing credenza. Heh.
Lord, spare me Paul talking about the genius of Karl Marx. Pete is similarly unentertained, as he's preoccupied with his conclusion that Ken got all the good accounts at SC. So...Pete really got no leverage out of his coup with Bronzo last week? If this were all in his head, a symptom of the idea that, like Trudy said, he's never satisfied, it would make sense, but the way Roger and Bertram act toward him later suggests that's not the case, so I'm finding this one of many examples of the seams surrounding the plot points in this episode showing. Anyway, Pete's specific complaint is about "Admiral Television," as the sales are flat. He does, however, then notice that there's growth in some areas -- namely, those with large African-American populations. Well, he actually asks, "Is it possible that these Admirals are being bought by Negroes?" I think it's not only possible, it's eminently likely. You cracker. Harry then enters and reports the news that Lois caught her scarf in the copy machine, and Paul sighs that perhaps when Joan leaves he'll be able to be rid of her. Hmm, did Joan assign Lois to Paul because she got wind of the prank they pulled on Peggy last week? Seems a bit of a leap, yet given that it's Joan I'm willing to take it. Pete shares the papers he was reading with Harry and asks for his opinion, but Harry doesn't say much to validate Pete's conclusion. Ken then comes in, guffawing about Lois, and gets appreciative noises from Paul and Harry while Pete sits and stews like the runner-up in a Junior Miss pageant. Again, the ep feels off -- two weeks ago, he and Ken seemed chummy in presenting a united front to the boys, last week he scored this huge victory, and now suddenly he's back to acting like Ken's the new Heather Number One? I think I know where they're going with this, but it still doesn't fly for me...
...but soon enough, we're in Don's office, wherein he's dictating some correspondence to his girl when Pryce opens the door. The secretary leaves, and Pryce and Don exchange barbs about the creative process and waste and honestly, it's boring, so let's move on to where Don pours them both a drink and suggests that if Pryce wants to save money, he should "get [his] nails dirty with Bert Cooper and Harry Crane. Clients love to pay for media, and Creative needs pencils." Pryce seems to see the wisdom in this, and when Don tells him to think of his men's morale, not just his own, Pryce sardonically notes, "You've obviously seen Bridge On The River Kwai." As should everyone. Don replies that he's seen everything, as Pryce knows from his ticket stubs, and I'd think that a
n oddly tone-deaf wink-wink on Don's part if I weren't preoccupied with eagerly pointing out that the man who claims to have seen everything never saw Bye Bye Birdie until it was forced on him.
Pete's busying himself with his demographic research until Hildy buzzes him with the news that his "Uncle Herman" is on the line. He urgently picks up the phone and asks if "Aunt Alice" is all right, and on the other end, Duck Phillips asks who it is. After they establish their identities, Duck says he used his real given name, "Herman," so as to keep the contact with Pete a secret, but Pete informs him that he actually has an Uncle Herman, and he's ninety-one. Heh. After I note with some disdain that Duck has three gold duck sculptures decorating his wall, he tells Pete that he's at "Grey" now, and they should have lunch. Pete's leery of the idea, but Duck talks him into it. From his clarity and focus, I'm guessing he's sober again, which is unfortunate in that he can't blame the décor of his office on being hammered.
Don arrives home and answers the ringing phone; it's "Suzanne Farrell," Sally's teacher. (Heh, no wonder she could dance so well around the maypole.) Suzanne seems nervous, inebriated, and somewhat intimidated by Don, which would make her the perfect woman for him if she weren't on the other end of a phone line. She apologizes for her behavior that morning, and when he expresses confusion, she explains that her own father died when she was eight, and as such she may have felt a little closer to the situation than might have been appropriate. Don looks like he feels a connection with her, although this time there's no music playing and he's not cinematically feeling up a lawn, but whatever's going on between them is interrupted by Betty calling his name, as it's time to go to the hospital. Don has an amusingly uncharacteristic and endearing moment where he says he has to get his keys and Betty points out that they're in his hand...
...and then an older nurse is helping Betty into a wheelchair while wondering if it might be a false alarm, and Betty's like, "This is my third kid, bitch, do I look new?" The nurse sends Don off to "the solarium," and in this era I'm surprised that's not code for "bar," but then again, it's not going to turn out to matter. As Betty gets wheeled down the hall, she looks back at Don's shrinking form, and then we stay with her as her attention becomes occupied by a janitor who looks like her father from the back. We're of course meant to think the imminent birth is bringing up memories of her father, which is a nice alternative to the birth and death in the same episode I was so glad they avoided last episode, but the janitor is obviously actually being played by Ryan Cutrona so it's hard to fault her here. Soon after, Betty is futzing with a pen as she tries to fill out some forms, and she gets the nurse off the phone to inform her through her pain that she's not planning on breast-feeding the child, and also that her water never breaks, which is a nice departure from TV protocol. She asks when "Dr. Aldrich" will be there...
...while Don leafs through a magazine in the solarium. The only other person in there is a shaved-head-sporting guy named "Dennis Hobart," who asks a nurse that looks like half of Debra Jo Rupp for some information. The nurse tells him that his wife is fine but the baby's breeched, so they're calling in a specialist, and this news freaks Hobart right the hell out, considering no one had even talked to him for a hour. Once the nurse is gone, Hobart comments to Don that being an imminent father isn't what he expected, and pulls out a bottle of Johnnie Walker Red as he adds that he brought it because he thought it would be a party in there. From the way Don is eyeing that bottle, you just might get your wish, cowboy. They start drinking as Hobart complains he's been there all day, and he even called in to get off work -- he's a prison guard. He and Don bond as Don seems genuinely glad of the company, but when Hobart asks if he throws the ball around with his son, Don goes serious: "Not enough." Child-actor laws can be so restrictive. The conversation breaks after that line, and Don rips out an ad for a convertible from a magazine...
...and then we're back with Betty, who's being told by the nurse to get on the bed. "I'll shave you, and then give you a quick low enema." Sounds like she should buy her a drink first.
In the waiting room, some amount of Scotch I'd guess falls into the "not insignificant" category has been consumed, and Don complains that time seems to have stopped. Try recapping when the jokes aren't flowing, pal. He then asks Hobart about Sing Sing, and Hobart tells him that although he's outnumbered, he feels like a king. Don: "Except your subjects want to kill you." Not seeing how that detracts from the comparison. Hobart says they're not all bad -- some are killers, but some are baseball players, and in '29 their team even played the Yankees. Don, half in the bag, jokes that everyone was in stripes, which gets an appreciative laugh from Hobart. He gets serious, though, as he says he has to be careful not to bring his work home, especially with a kid there, and furthers his point by saying that he sees all these violent prisoners, and every one of them would blame their parents for how he is. Don mutters that that's a bullshit excuse, and given that he didn't turn out to be a serial killer in spite of his upbringing, he's got some credibility on the subject.
Betty, despite having "little veins," eventually gets an injection of something that will apparently help with her pain and "put [her] in a twilight sleep." I'd like to pick up some of that -- the ability to put certain people into a twilight sleep would ease a lot of my pain. Despite the medication, Betty is not pleased to hear that her regular doctor is in the middle of tying one on for his anniversary in the city, so she'll have to take the obstetrician who, while unknown to her, is both on duty and sober. The nurse starts to tell her she's at five centimeters already, the implication being that it's way too late to be arguing the point, but that becomes irrelevant for the moment, because the nurse suddenly starts some geography-related babbling...
...and then Betty's in a dream in which she's walking down her street, except they achieve a surreal, dreamlike effect (and save from having to film on their lot for this scene) by green-screening the background in. She's in an uncharacteristically busy sundress with an uncharacteristically goofy smile on her face, and when she stops walking, a caterpillar floats down on a thread of silk into her outstretched hand. Betty regards the incredibly fake-looking thing intently, and closes her hand before...
...we cut to Don and Hobart manhandling the cigarette machine. Hey, as long as that's what it's into. With the assistance of a candy striper, they finally succeed in retrieving the pack of smokes that Don ostensibly paid for, and when the non-speaking girl is gone, Hobart mildly leers after her before getting emotional, saying that his wife was screaming at him in the car, and she's in there now and he can't bear the thought of something happening to her, and he doesn't know how he could love the baby if he or she cost his wife her life. Perhaps the actor is so distraught that he's forgotten how to do convincing business with a cigarette, because the way he's holding the thing would cause Paul and possibly Peggy to come running over in anticipation of getting high. Don then puts a hand on the guy's back and intones, "Our worst fears lie in anticipation, " and it's all so manly and fraternal that I'll refrain from putting a different potential spin on the scene by noting that he last heard those words from a flaming homosexual. Except for the part where I kind of just did.
Betty's continuing her season-long quest to get her mouth washed out with soap as she calls the nurse a bitch while physically struggling with her and asking where Don is. The doctor claims that Betty can't hear the nurse, but Betty snarls, "The hell I can't!" Get this baby out of her, stat! The nurse tells her he's in the waiting room, but Betty replies, "Bullshit. He's never where you expect him to be." Sounds like there's potential for a Where's Don? book, only I don't think it would exactly be child-appropriate. She asks the nurse if she's been with him, and Betty, given that the nurse has seen what Don looks like you might not want to plant such distracting thoughts in her head at the moment. The nurse pumps her IV full of Demerol, and Betty murmurs, "I'm just a housewife. Why are you doing this to me?" before the darkness takes her again.
Don, meanwhile, is barely more conscious than his wife, thanks in at least part to the now-empty bottle of Scotch at his side, but he notices when half of Debra Jo Rupp wakes Hobart up and informs him that his wife and baby boy are doing just fine, although his wife is in recovery from the transfusion she ended up needing. This means Hobart will have to wait to see her, but he is given leave to meet his son. Before he goes, though, he tells Don he's sure his kid will be all right too, and then moves close and puts an open hand on Don's cheek: "You're an honest guy. Believe me -- I'm an expert." Don's face is like, "Thanks for the compliment, but I'm worried you just sentenced my kid to death." Hobart emotionally tells Don that this is a fresh start for him, and he's going to be a better man, and it's all very lovely but I don't really need a bit character dragging out sentiments like this, so let's head into the commercial break.
Back in the delivery room, the nurse is telling Betty to push, but Betty, doped up and not really loving it, groggily says she can't. The nurse snaps, "Either you can do it or we will. But it's gonna come out some way!" That's the kind of homespun wisdom against which it's hard to mount an effective argument, and rather than try, Betty heads off into another dream...
...in which she's walking down the hallway of the hospital, still in her gown, and then...she's back in normal clothes, walking into her kitchen. Hmm, not sure I get why the transition was necessary there, especially since they clued us in with the Soothing Music Of Drug-Fueled Dream Sequences, but this is why I'm a producer and not a director. Anyway, she finds the "mystery" man in the janitor's outfit mopping the floor with his back to her, and he stays turned away from her for a while until he turns to reveal he's...her father. Well, that was worth our time, especially since Ryan Cutrona was billed as a guest star. She girlishly asks if he misses her, and he tells her of course before cautioning her that no one knows he's there. We then see that he's mopping blood or strawberry jam up from the floor, which prompts Betty to ask if she's dying. Gene replies, "Ask your mother," and calls off screen, "Tell her, Ruthie!" We cut to the corner, where a brunette woman I wouldn't have picked for Betty's mother based on my memory of the painting we saw of her tells her to shut her mouth. "You'll catch flies." Ruth is standing over a seated black man whose eyes are closed, which made me vaguely think at first we had stepped into David Lynch territory, but when I notice there's blood on his collar and Ruth goes on to add, holding out a blood-soaked rag, "See what happens to people who speak up?" I realize that this is probably meant to be the earlier-mentioned Medgar Evers, who I'm sure would be tickled pink to know that his death served to make a point in a show about white people and their petty dramas forty-five years later. Ruth counsels her to be happy with what she has, and Gene adds that she's a housecat. "You're very important, and you have little to do." When both your parents are dead and yet they're still meeting up to tag-team your self-esteem, it's time to get back into therapy, I think.
After a dreamily cinematic shot of the light changing in a room that's meant to signal the passage of an indeterminate amount of time, Betty comes to in daylight and finds her baby in her arms. She murmurs, "She's beautiful," but, as Don points out, the child is actually a boy. This could be meant to underscore the idea that Betty's been out of touch, or that the child is going to teach her to be more open-minded, but like many other things in this episode I think it's a bit of a stretch to read too much into her getting a one in two shot wrong. Betty tells Don he looks terrible, which I think is meant to be funny, because January Jones looks like she just emerged from a long stay in a sleep- and shower-deprivation chamber, while Jon Hamm looks like...Jon Hamm. Betty then murmurs that she wants to name the baby Eugene, and when Don tells her she doesn't have to decide that now, she repeats the name with no uncertainty. I'll give him the benefit of the doubt that he wants her to have a clear head before she names the child after someone toward whom she had such mixed feelings...
...although that might be a mistake, because after Don gets in to the office the day and finds a shower of baby-related presents waiting for him, he gets a call from Roger and quickly has occasion to say they don't have a name yet. This is making it seem more about Don's feelings toward Gene, which (a) isn't really all that consistent, since even with their issues they had some recent moments of understanding and even enjoyment, and (b) the man just died, so GET OVER IT. Don then inquires why Roger is calling him from the art department, and Roger confesses that he was needed, since the place basically ground to a halt without Don there to give his approval on a bunch of decisions. Don exasperatedly points out that he was gone for half a day, surely thinking that this doesn't bode well for his future ability to run off to California for weeks at a time, and after Roger offers that Pryce is "a tick," Don barks at his girl for some much-needed coffee...
...which is not what Peggy's drinking, as in a restaurant, she's sipping a Bloody Mary, although whether she asked them to hold the vodka is for you to decide. When we pan back, we get a surprise, however, as she's sitting with Duck, who's dressed rather more casually than we're used to seeing from him -- sport jacket over turtleneck, the latter of which Peggy compliments. Also, he's drinking coffee, which is easier to do when you're surrounded by Jewish people instead of Englishmen on a daily basis. Pete then enters, and his face and Peggy's collapse like two tragic soufflés upon seeing each other. Duck tells him to relax and have a nosh, and Pete disbelievingly asks, "Two months at Grey and you're already having a 'nosh'"? Heh. In a year he'll be talking about all the mishegoss he observed at SC. Pete sits, and Peggy offers that she didn't know until she got there. Pete, of course, is silent in response, so Duck reveals the reason behind the setup: Pete and Peggy have a secret relationship. As the two of them blanch, he goes on that they handled the Freddy Rumsen situation in such a way that Peggy would move up, and "that kind of focused ambition is rare in advertising." I...am not sure what he's basing that opinion on, to be honest. Sure, it sounds good on the surface in the sense that SC has always seemed like a company of bumblers, but it doesn't really hold up on examination; Harry Crane is a good example of someone who's moved up using just that combination. Even Ken, who seemed on the surface like a slacker, is hustling these days. I'll give Duck Paul Kinsey, though. Gladly. Anyway, Duck says he wants to take both of them to Grey, saying their talents will be appreciated and given room to grow, but Pete says he's not going anywhere. Peggy's question in response is "Do we have to go together?" and the "I didn't see that coming" look on Pete's face isn't doing a whole lot for this image of extreme competence Duck apparently sees in him. Anyway, Pete was never going to consider this offer rationally with Peggy involved, so he stands and sniffs, "If you want to woo me, you'll have to buy me my own lunch." He couldn't have made that exit less masculine if he'd accessorized it with a parasol. Peggy thinks maybe she should leave too, but Duck tells her she should seize the moment -- she's got no mortgage or kids to worry about, so as a "career gal" now's the time to take a risk and see just how far her talent can take her. Peggy's flustered by the unbridled enthusiasm for her skills, and given her confused mental state I can't believe she's got most of that Bloody Mary left.
Pete gets on the elevator, and after the door closes, he looks to his left at Hollis and gets a Crafty Idea. This could be extremely embarrassing for all concerned, which is not necessarily a knock on the development. Pete peppers Hollis with questions about his choice of TV (an RCA) in a manner that, as I mentioned in the recaplet, is like Don asking that waiter in the show's first scene ever about his preferred cigarette. Of course, you have to replace Don's suave charm with Pete's bull-in-a-china-shop way of doing things, which explains the disparity in result. After the two extras in the elevator wisely and thankfully have departed, Pete goes on that "a lot of Negroes" prefer Admiral. "I've done research." The image of Pete going door-to-door in Newark just popped into my head, and
it may take a while to get out. Hollis is clearly getting more and more uncomfortable with the demographic research Pete insists on pursuing, and when Pete stops the elevator, the smile Hollis has kept plastered on his face to this point gives up the ghost. He clearly thinks any kind of direct conversation with one of the building's white, white-collar employees could get him in trouble, but when Pete straightforwardly says he just wants to know why Hollis bought that particular TV, Hollis gets a bit heated as he says he doesn't even watch the thing, as "we've got plenty bigger problems to worry about than TV." I do not understand such a concept. Pete opines that owning a TV is part of the American Dream, and Hollis gives him a look like "Your honky ass will obviously never understand" before pushing the button for the elevator to resume. Pete at least is chastened, somewhat meekly apologizing that he was just asking for his job, and Hollis intones, "Every job has its ups and downs." Recognizing the Yogi Berra-ness of this comment, Pete brightens: "You don't watch baseball? I don't believe you." Hollis gives him a serious side-eye and then breaks out into a grin, and Pete chuckles as well. It's not "Ebony and Ivory," but it's a start.
At night, Don's in his robe frying up some corned beef hash when Sally wanders out and says she didn't know he could cook. Don self-deprecatingly says Betty's much better at it, and then Sally babbles about eggs for a while before asking if the baby's going to have Gene's room. Don takes a moment before blithely pointing out that it's not Gene's room, but the baby's, and Sally seems to accept that, moving on to say that she thought the child was going to be a girl. Don: "Well, I thought you were going to be a boy." He adds that not all surprises are bad, and when Sally smiles, he sits with her and tells her everything will be all right. Sally then mentions her teacher for the second time in the conversation, so you can imagine we haven't seen the last of her. But since Sally seems on the road to some emotional healing, I certainly pray she doesn't witness Don dancing around her maypole. (I have no idea what that means.)
The day, Don and an entire tube of Brylcreem are walking down the hall in the hospital, flowers in hand, when he sees Hobart wheeling his wife down the hall, sans baby. Don smiles at him, and Hobart is smiling too before he catches Don's eye, but then drops his gaze like...well, like Don's a prison guard, really. I'm used to having to parse stuff with this show, but for real: Huh? If something happened to his baby, as seems possible from its absence, that still doesn't explain the huge smile followed by the "Oh shit" reaction. Is he regretting all that stuff he said about being a better man after only one day? I don't understand it, because the director has done some of the best episodes of the series, but this one is not getting it done for me. Anyway...
...let's cut to Pete, who's meeting with Admiral, apparently for the first time as their account exec given that he's saying how Burt Peterson's firing was "undignified." But hilarious, he adds non-verbally, and everyone in the room agrees. Pete introduces Harry, and then brightly brings up the fact that Admiral's sales are growing among "Negroes." One of the guys soberly says he knows, which almost stops Pete in his tracks. time listen to those instincts, kid. However, he pushes on through the new chill in the air to pitch an "interesting strategy" -- buying space in Ebony, Jet, and other publications marketed to that demographic would be cheap and, apparently, would provide a terrific return. The other guy skeptically asks if he's proposing a Negro ad and a white ad, partially wondering if Pete means to increase SC's fee, but Pete says no -- there will be one "integrated" ad. The other guy snarks that he doesn't think that's legal, and Pete, suddenly wising up and getting disgusted as a result, dismisses the joke in saying that it of course is. Not that Pete's idea is definitely such a cash cow, as the lead guy plays devil's advocate: "Who's to say these Negroes aren't buying these because they think white people want them?" Not to mention the even less PC question of whether white people would continue to buy them if it were perceived as an African-American brand. But this is what market research is for, and the fact that the clients aren't even willing to entertain this potential moneymaker suggests, in keeping with the season's theme, these guys are stuck in the past while Pete's ready for change. Of course, given how this meeting went, he might need to be ready for the change of going to work for Jews.
Don's asleep on his couch when his girl buzzes that Peggy is there, and he groggily sits up as she enters, gift in hand. After some small talk about how she was the youngest in her family, she picks up on his lack of sleep and nervously wonders if this might not be the best time, but he merely bids her to sit down. She starts to give him a speech about how grateful she is to him that honestly makes it sounds like she's resigning right here, but she only goes on to tell him how little she makes, adding that she only pulls in seventy-one dollars a week more than her secretary. Don: "Maybe we need to get you a cheaper secretary." Although it's probably true Olive makes plenty more than your average typist, Peggy looks like this is one time she'd prefer a less witty boss. She plows on, however, saying that Paul does the same work as she, "and not as well sometimes." That last word was awfully generous of her. Also, she says, there was a law recently passed about women getting equal pay for equal work. Don, however, unceremoniously shoots her down, saying, referring to Pryce's nickel-and-diming, that he's "fighting for paper clips." Honestly, this is another development I don't completely buy. This episode went out of its way to prove that the place couldn't even function without Don, yet he's not going to go to bat for his best employee because Pryce has been nattering at him? Plot-wise, you can probably swing it, but I don't buy it from a character standpoint, really. Peggy sits for a long moment, and then looks at the present she just gave him: "Third time. Must be old hat." I'm thinking Duck's mention of her not being tied to a family now is echoing in her mind. Don pours them both a drink and sits with her much as he sat with Sally: "You're gonna be fine, Peggy." Peggy, however, doesn't have a young girl's emotional resilience, and she confesses that she looks at Don and thinks, "I want what he has." I hear you, Peggy, but seriously: Who doesn't? Don's a bit flippant at first, but when she goes on that he has everything, "and so much of it," he gets pensive and admits that's probably true. Interesting parallel to Betty's dream, no? Don, not happy at having lost some control over the conversation, asks what she wants him to say, and Peggy's never looked quite so hurt and disappointed as she points out she could hardly have been clearer. Don, trying to get her back on his side, asks if she doesn't see what's been going on in the last six months, but Peggy has an answer for that: "What if this is my time?" She leaves, and it just so happens that Pete sees her exiting Don's office. He accosts her and asks where she's going, and she snaps, "To the ladies' room. You want to join me?" There was a time when it would have been about a fifty-fifty shot, I'd say. Pete, in return, half-snarls that Peggy can use the offer from Duck as leverage, but he's sharing his job with Ken, so he hasn't got a leg to stand on. Peggy counters that he at least has relationships with his clients, and by the way, didn't the meeting with Duck teach him anything about jumping to conclusions? Some of that may not have been verbalized. Pete asks if she said anything, and when she points out that's not his decision to make, he
, referencing their child, somewhat plaintively replies, "Your decisions affect me." God, Pete, do you want to work at the same company as she does or not? Because you could probably get either eventuality here if you'd get your head out of your progressive ass.
We get a closeup of a birth certificate form that reads "Eugene Scott Draper," and then we see Betty's smiling face. Yup, lots of equivocation on the name, Don.
Pete enters Bertram's office, and Roger snits, "If it isn't Martin Luther King." After the thought of Pete giving the "I Have A Dream" speech makes me giggle for a while, Bertram informs Pete that Admiral has no interest in becoming a "colored" television company (note his more dated lingo, and also, thanks for bringing us up to speed, Bertram). Pete sighs that he doesn't understand why a company would pass up the opportunity to make more money, but Bertram, getting more heated, barks that it's a sensitive issue. "Companies hate that!" After Roger yells some more about the "hand jobs" he's going to have to give to fix this, Pryce, who's been sitting silently the whole time, asks idly if they're "done with the flogging," and Roger petulantly mutters, "It's never as good as you think it's gonna be." Just wait until the hand jobs. Pryce, however, then obliquely takes up for Pete by way of following Don's advice from earlier regarding Bertram and Roger, saying that while Admiral isn't a possibility, perhaps there is money to be made in the Negro markets. "I'm a stranger in a strange land, but I can tell you: There's definitely something going on." If someone with his vision can see the coming upheaval, maybe it's time to acknowledge there's something happening here, even if what it is ain't exactly clear.
Don, Betty, and the baby arrive home, and Sally, Bobby, and FRANCINE! YES! are there to greet them, with Sally significantly giving Betty some flowers and a big hug and telling her how much she missed her. (By the way, somewhere in here was a shot of the family visiting Betty at the hospital and her waving happily at them from a second-story window, but my cable did something weird so I don't know where exactly it occurred. Sorry about that.) When they're all seated, Francine asks Betty how it was, and Betty gets a "Girl, please" look on her face before responding, "You know. It was all a fog." Francine opines that Betty's making a mistake not "forcing" Carla to stay, and I don't know about the forcing part but I agree Betty's going to be overwhelmed, but she says Carla's been away from her family for too long (perhaps the Medgar Evers assassination was the impetus for a familial visit) and she can manage, perhaps thinking what she does isn't so insignificant after all. Don goes to get Betty something to eat, taking the kids with him, and Betty and Francine look at the baby and smile...
...but in the middle of the night, the child is crying, so Betty gets up and heads down the hall. She pauses, however, and the dream music from earlier pipes up. Is she back in the fog? Or is she remembering to be happy with what she has, even if it means no sleep for a while? Regardless, she snaps out of it, and heads into the baby's room before we go to credits.
John Ramos is a writer and film producer living in Los Angeles. You can reach him at couchbaron@gmail.com.
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