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Betty has a decorator work on the house, and she also meets with the local chapter of the Junior League about taking over Francine's spot as secretary. They want to approach the Governor about a proposed water tank in the neighborhood, and Betty offers to talk to that dude Henry Francis that hit on her at Roger's garden party. Turns out Francis grew up in the neighborhood, and he offers to meet her for a cup of coffee and look at the proposed site. When they meet, Francis tells her the project is already underway, but although he cautions her against being optimistic, his attraction to her certainly doesn't seem to have diminished. He also suggests she buy an ugly antique couch, which she does, much to her decorator's chagrin.
Duck is still courting Peggy and Pete, and although the two of them are at least getting along better, Pete is still wary of Duck's motivations, thinking he's only after them to stick it to Don. Peggy then calls Duck and tells him to stop sending her gifts, but when Don very nastily chews her out for reasons that have little to do with her, again, she changes her mind and goes to see Duck -- and the two of them end up in bed together. Hopefully this will not end in her getting pregnant again.
Connie Hilton turns up unexpectedly at SC for a meeting, and basically, he wants to cheat on his regular ad agency with Don. This coup makes the boys fall in love with Don all over again, with Pete in particular trying to get involved with the Hilton account. The senior partners congratulate Don, but there's a little snafu -- Hilton doesn't want to do business with anyone who's not under contract -- including Don. Pryce produces a contract for Don to peruse that includes a "healthy raise," but Don isn't so ready to give up his freedom, even for Hilton, and it's like pulling teeth even getting him to consider the idea. He takes so long that Roger calls Betty and asks her to intervene on his behalf, but Betty tells him to suck it, in language a little more polite. However, when Don comes home, Betty confronts him about the issue, both about him not signing it and not telling her, and they have a terse but ugly exchange that results in him storming out. On a whim, he picks up a young hitchhiker couple who are heading for Niagara Falls to get married, not because they're in love but to save the boy from being sent to Vietnam. They give Don some Phenobarbital and have a little party in a motel room, during which Don has a vision of his father, who tells him he's a bum who can't settle down and isn't worth a lick. The kids then rob him, and when he makes it into the office looking like hell, Bertram tells him how it is: He and Roger brought him in and have nurtured him like family, and it's time to pay them back for these efforts. He then, obliquely and rather evilly, brings up what he knows about Don's past in "suggesting" that Don sign, which is not a place I ever thought they'd revisit, and Don signs the contract but tells Bertram he doesn't want any further contact with Roger. And they were doing so well!
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Want more? The full recap starts right below! We start the episode with a series of seemingly disconnected images. Peggy is lying asleep in bed in what looks like a hotel room or some other place that doesn't belong to her, an unknown man to her facing away from the camera. Betty lies languidly on a large chaise longue. In a motel room in morning, the remnants of a small party in evidence, the camera pans over to show Don lying face down on the floor. He comes to and sits up against one of the beds, and we see dried blood all over his nose and upper lip. And while that looks unpleasant, it's hard to be too sympathetic in the wake of the foot-ectomy we witnessed last week. At least Don will still be able to golf again. He massages his throat, and the close-up of his neck area......gives way to one from sometime earlier, it seems reasonable to conclude, as he's getting ready for work, no marks of unsavory origin visible on his face. When he gets downstairs, Betty calls his name from offscreen, and we see her in the living room, accompanied by an older woman who warns Betty that he may take a moment to accustom himself. "I told you, men don't like change." Embroider that on a throw pillow so we don't forget it later in the episode. Don makes a pointed comment about the price possibly affecting his opinion, but the woman ignores that in order to show off her handiwork, which includes some chinoiserie, "a Dunbar Japanese-influenced sofa, and a classic Drexel end table." I can see why she didn't want to mention the price. Betty notes an open space in front of the fireplace, and the decorator tells her it's the hearth, the soul of her home. "People gather around a fire even if there isn't one." Hmm. That sounds like the makings of a koan to me. Betty presses Don to give an opinion, so he takes a look and counsels her to move the end table and lamp to the other end of the couch. He then gives her a kiss and heads out, and when he's gone, the decorator's like, "I think he's right." I knew that was coming and it was still the funniest moment of the episode. Hee.
Don's already on the elevator at SC when Roger joins him, and wow, I don't know if he's trying to show solidarity with Bronzo, but he's working one hell of a fake tan at the moment. Has he looked this way since he got back from Greece and I just didn't notice? Probably, given this show's attention to detail. Anyway, speaking of Bronzo, Roger tells Don that he too got the galleys for Ogilvy's book, as they want a quote from him. Given the lines he regularly delivers on this show, I can see why. He sighs, "Advertising's already up there with lawyers as the most reviled. This is not going to help." Don opines that it'll help Ogilvy...
...and we cut to them walking into the office, with Roger continuing that the book is titled Confessions Of An Ad Man, but it should be called "A Thousand Reasons I'm So Great." Heh. Don asks who's publishing it, and Roger tells him he'll send it over to him. "I don't want you to buy it." If these two really stop talking to each other permanently, my job is going to be a lot less fun.
When Don gets to his desk, he finds Pete, Sal, Harry, and Paul waiting for him, and seriously, they look like they're under a love spell, so intensely is the adulation for Don beaming out of them. I mean, they're kind of like that most of the time anyway, but this is extreme. Don starts to chide Allison, his girl (thanks to everyone that emailed me to supply the name) about letting them "hover" there, but she interrupts to tell him the reason they're smiling so beatifically: Conrad Hilton is in his office at that very moment. Don, betraying a little nervousness at the prospect, tells the boys to return in twenty minutes. Paul suggests he take as long as he needs, but Harry demurs: "He wants to look busy!" Heh. They're such a cheerleading section right now. Don opens the door to his office and then tells Allison to hold all his calls, earning him a hilarious "Duh" face from her, which kind of rules. Inside, Don finds Connie sitting in his chair and shakes his hand as he says seeing him is a great way to start the day. Connie: "Nine-thirty? That's practically lunch." Between that comment and the fact that Connie continues to make no move to give up Don's chair, Don is rather hilariously thrown by the whole encounter, but he gets himself together and takes one of the seats across from Connie. Before getting into the reason for his visit, though, Connie grandly announces that he finds it disturbing that Don has neither a Bible nor any family photos on his desk, and if he's really looking for a God-fearing family man to do his ads, he might do better to investigate other options. Like, as Bronzo would say, O'Gilvy. Don casually says he doesn't have those things because he's easily distracted, lighting a cigarette perhaps to punctuate that remark, but Connie thinks they're important: "They'll make you feel better about what you do." He tells Don to show up on time, earning him the rejoinder that maybe he was late because he was reading the Bible with his family. However, Connie isn't as easily charmed as, say, everyone else in the world, and he asks if Don's nervous. "I'm finding you hard to talk to." I'd get used to it. When Don points out that Connie obviously caught him by surprise, though, Connie quits grilling him and chuckles heartily before using a metaphor about cheating to imply that he'd like Don to do some advertising work for him. He also mentions that since Don's married, he'll "have to use [his] imagination" to catch his drift, but if Don's fazed that Connie's expecting him to be not only religious and family-loving but faithful as well, he doesn't show it. Those heathens are so good at lying. Anyway, Connie tells Don he'd like to give him the Waldorf, the New York Hilton, and the Statler Hilton. "It's just New York, but my eye has definitely started to wander." If Connie weren't such a God-fearing family man I'd be wondering if this metaphor was chosen to let Don know just how, um, alluring he finds him. Anyway, Don's on board, so they stand up, and Connie tells him that their lawyers will work out the retainer and other legal matters (ahem), but their other business will be conducted in communications much like they just had. On the way to the elevator, Connie warns Don that having him in his life will change things, and when Don says he looks forward to it, Connie replies, "They always say that." Words to be heeded, Don. They pass the boys from earlier, who don't seem to have given their goofy smiles a break, prompting Connie to note that they're a "happy bunch." Heh. Before they part company, Connie and Don shake hands again, and Connie tells him, "It's not much to start with, but I look forward to sharing my dreams with you. As long as you sign over your freedom in blood." Whoops, got ahead of myself there. Don turns back to a rousing round of applause, which he might as well enjoy while he can.
In the new gracious living room, Betty's laid out some tea for her company, which consists of Francine (awesome, but I wish they'd get her back for more than a random scene here and there) and two other women. Long story short, the women are from the local chapter of the Junior League, and they're meeting with Betty because she's expressed interest in replacing Francine as their Secretary. One of the women says she's joining at a crucial time, because there's a three-million-gallon water tank proposed to be constructed in their area, which she says will drain the Pleasantville reservoir and "blemish the natural and financial health of our community." Francine compliments her on her turn of phrase, and given that she's still taking the minutes I wonder if kissing up is part of the Secretary's job
description. The other woman, roughly old enough to be the mother of any of the other three, opines that the Junior League needs to take over and explain the issues to the community -- to elaborate on the other woman's shorthand, the "natural health" refers to the need for conservation of the environment and the beauty of the Hudson River Valley (she mentions Silent Spring, which had just been published), and "financial health" refers to the fact that there's "worthless real estate on both sides of the river because some industrial park on Route 9 needs our water." The younger woman pipes up that they need to go over the village board's head and appeal to the governor: "The Rockefellers own half the land here." This gets Betty's mind working, and she announces that she knows someone in the Governor's office: Henry Francis, who felt her stomach at Roger's party. Well, she doesn't mention that last bit. The younger woman looks up Francis's name on some handy list and is suitably impressed, and the older woman recalls that he used to be the Republican Party Chairman for Westchester County, and says she knows him. Francine excitedly encourages her to call him, but the older woman, with a crafty look on her face, says she thinks they'll have a better chance if Betty calls. So she really does know him, then. Betty looks down demurely, but Francine will have none of that: "It's not adorable to pretend like you're not adorable." You see why I wish they'd write her in more?
In Don's office, the boys are discussing the best way to spend all of Bronzo's money, but their minds are of course still on Connie, and Pete asks Don at least to tell them how he knows him. Don dismissively says they ran into each other at a party, after which we cut to another shot of the boys staring at him, with Pete's expression by far the dreamiest, like he's picturing himself combing Don's hair for him or something else equally intimate and weird. Don, first perhaps allowing himself to enjoy their palpable admiration just a little, dismisses everyone, but Pete lingers to mention that he'd love to do some legwork for Hilton. Don: "Pete, I think you're supposed to bring in the account, and I'm supposed to beg to be on it." He somewhat sternly asks about North American Aviation, and Pete says their business is going very well, and if you're paying attention, he mentions that one particular source of their success at the moment is orders for "jets for Vietnam," which is a subject the show would like you to pay some close attention to for the future, I think. In fact, I didn't mention it at the time, but Smitty and Kurt and that goofball with the glasses mentioned Vietnam last week. Pete adds that he thinks he's convinced them that they're going to have to spend more if they want to "get out of NASA and into the Pentagon," and Don replies that when they do, they can talk about Hilton. Interesting that he gives Pete the carrot and Peggy the stick, no?
Betty's leaving word for Francis, and when she's done, she calls the kids in for lunch. After mere seconds, though, the man himself calls back, and the momentary gleam in Betty's eye when she hears him identify himself is rather telling. She heads for the study, telling Bobby to hang up the phone, but she doesn't specify when so of course when he picks up the extension in the study, she hears a dial tone. Hee. Betty's not nearly as easily amused as I am, but she barely has time to chew Bobby out before Francis calls back. This time, she picks it up in the study to avoid mishap, and after light (but still somewhat charged) talk about the fact that Betty had a little boy and that Francis has at least one of the same, Betty makes her pitch on behalf of the Junior League of Tarrytown, mentioning that the Governor grew up there, and Francis knows the area well, having grown up nearby himself. He says he's heading upstate the day, and he could probably stop by and take a look at the proposed site. Betty hesitates for a moment, as the day is Saturday, and it will be harder to keep the visit from her husband. Well, she doesn't say that, but given that she doesn't really say anything, that's the implication. However, she tells him she'll make it work, and they agree to meet at "Swensen's Bakery" for a cup of coffee at three. Funny that Don's study, the place from which he's historically arranged all the business he wanted to keep from Betty, is witness to such a scene. Not funny ha-ha, but funny.
Peggy's just opening a gift in her office when Pete comes barging in: "I can save you the trouble. It's from him, and it's expensive." I'd guess a pony, but it would have to be really small. Actually, it's a scarf, which Pete casually identifies as Hermès. Peggy: "I hope yours is a different color." That's the second time she's casually insulted his masculinity lately. Given that she's been to bed with him twice, I wonder what she knows that we don't. Peggy keeps up the witty pace by reading the card and adding her own editorial commentary: "'Elegance and success. Duck.' I wonder who wrote that for him." Hee. Pete says he doesn't trust him, and when Peggy says it's logical for him to be after them, as they're very important at SC (ahem), Pete asks her if "he" put her on Hilton. She doesn't know anything: "Stop barging in here and infecting me with your anxiety!" We can work on the barging in, but the anxiety's pretty much what he's got to offer. Peggy opines that the scarf is beautiful, and Pete confesses that Duck sent him a box of Cuban cigars. "Although I'm starting to think they're not that hard to come by." Heh. Peggy's brain then finally processes the "Hilton" part of the conversation, and after Pete fills her in a bit on his visit, she tells him her mother gave her his book, adding by way of explanation, "He's Catholic." Awesome. Pete notes that while Hilton isn't as big as Lucky Strike, it would be nice to have a huge account that doesn't necessitate "hiding from the FTC," but Peggy's back to being hypnotized by the scarf, and she says she's keeping it, as Duck said himself that they don't have to be a package deal, so they should just do what they want. Pete, however, stands and points out that Duck isn't at SC anymore because Don forced him out. Peggy doesn't see the issue, as Don's basically got a me-against-the-world attitude anyway (like, no kidding), but Pete, while acknowledging that, says it's Duck who's out for revenge here, and even though Peggy says she's not going anywhere, he counsels her to send the gift back. I think he's looking out for her in his own special Pete Campbell way, but while it's still none of his business, were I in her shoes I'd probably return it for one simple reason: How is she going to explain having such an expensive thing to anyone?
Don enters Bertram's office to find him, Pryce, and Roger having a celebratory drinks party, and given that two of the three of them don't generally knock back the booze like Prohibition is about to return, it's safe to assume they've heard the good news. Indeed, Bertram asks when he was going to tell them, and Don jokes that he thought he'd let the phone call happen and then see who took credit for it. Pryce pours Don a finger or two and says that "despite its modest billings," the London office is thrilled with its potential for international growth. Among the many things that might make Don bristle at the way the Hilton thing plays out, keep in mind that a modest beginning with the potential for astronomical growth was how Don saw, and pitched, the Madison Square Garden situation, and was completely ignored. Or, as Don puts it, "Finally." There's a re
ason he's the ad man. Pryce is another one who's incapable of containing his goofy smile, but Roger, less positively, asks exactly how Don (as opposed to an Accounts man, like Roger) managed this feat. Don replies that he and Hilton travel in the same circles, and it's a nice haughty comeback to Roger's snotty tone, but it's still hilarious that what really happened is that they were both desperately digging around for the same type of booze. Actually, even funnier is that the two of them wouldn't have met if Don weren't so anxious to escape Roger's blackface act. Bertram says there is a bit of a sticky situation having to do with the contract, and Don reasonably doesn't get it at first, thinking he's referring to the agreement between SC and Hilton, but that's not it -- for Hilton to do business with them, it's a necessity that all the principals of the firm be, as Pryce puts it, "secured." Don, already uncomfortable, says he'll give Hilton his word, presumably that anything he works on will be proprietary, but Pryce says that while Hilton would agree to that, his lawyers won't, and he produces a draft of a contract for Don to look over. He adds that Don will of course want to share it with his attorney, but he mentions the basic idea -- three years, non-compete clause, and a healthy raise. Don says he'll think about it, which is clearly not an acceptable answer, and Pryce tries the tack of saying how generous it is -- a three-year guarantee with a five-thousand-dollar signing bonus. Well, it's true that the bonus is quite significant, but given that Don pulled in half a million on the merger Pryce has to know Don clearly doesn't need it. Bertram, however, says that they want to take care of Don, but now that I know how the episode ends, behind his fatherly smile all I can see is the face of a crocodile. Run, Don, run! He doesn't listen to me, instead saying that he knows Hilton a bit now, and he's sure he tends to want what he can't have. "And you should tell him it matters to me." This is Don's best argument in theory and worst in practice, because it's certainly true that Connie commands enough power and intimidation to make even his high-priced lawyers back off. Unfortunately, since Bertram in particular has decided to use the opportunity to force Don to commit to SC, appealing to them to represent his interests is futile. Bertram basically tells him as much, although through a sunny smile that's sending newfound chills up my spine, so Don finally backs down and agrees to look over the contract. Satisfied with that answer for the moment, Bertram says he met Hilton once. "He's a bit of an eccentric, isn't he?" Pryce and Roger take a hilarious beat in response that translates both to "Don't ask us" and "Look who's talking," so Don, with a small smile for the humor of the moment, agrees.
We return to whenever it is Don is in that motel, and as he staggers to his feet, the way he runs his fingers through the hair on the back of his head suggests he got hit there as well. We then cut to Betty, still lying on that chaise longue and now stretching her hands down her body, possibly hitting some naughty places on the way...
...and then she's showing up to the bakery for her meeting with Francis. He's already seated at a table, and she comes over and greets him with a handshake. After they both lie about attempting to bring chaperones to the meeting (keeping up appearances is important), they sit and talk about Ossining for a bit, and then Francis happens to mention that he was once married. Not sure if he's a widower or if the Governor merely wanted not to be the only divorcé in the office. They talk about the reservoir and how Francis did jackknives into it as a child, and Betty scolds him: "We drink that water!" Heh. He then breaks the news that he looked into the project, and it's already started, but perhaps if she knew someone with some clout? Basically, the way he plays this is to keep her hopes up while simultaneously letting her know just how difficult the task she's asked him to complete is, so I'm not surprised when "strategist" is one of the things he lists when she asks him what he does. Not that she's not interested in playing along, I hasten to add. He goes on to mention that he's also a lawyer, but he rarely needs to be, and she in turn says she majored in anthropology in college. "We all have skills we don't use." For example, Betty also once was a stand-up comic. (Can you picture her telling a Catskills audience to try the veal? I may have to take a break here.) After Francis then orders some apple pie, he tells Betty he's not sure what he can do about the water tank, but then encourages her not to give up so easily, which: See above.
Meanwhile, Don is not home to wonder where Betty is because he's out with Sally. Turns out that there's a solar eclipse happening that day, and Sally's class is meeting with her teacher so they can each make a camera obscura out of a cardboard box. Don chats with Carlton, and when the latter complains that he could be golfing, Don offers to take his daughter home if he wants to duck out. Surprisingly, Carlton doesn't take him up on the offer, instead telling Don that Francine was a schoolteacher when they met, and he used to love seeing her "standing in the middle of all those little kids, like a telephone pole." Heh. Don offers that Sally has a crush on the teacher, and then Carlton asks why you can't look at an eclipse. "What's it gonna do, really?" Other than make for an egregiously bad two-part episode of Heroes, I'm not really sure myself. Carlton mentions that he goes running in the mornings by the high-school track, which could explain why he's not nearly as tubby as the last time we saw him, and says he sees the teacher sometimes, but he never talks to her as a point of etiquette. He adds that that's one of the things he really likes about the run -- the quiet and the sense of being alone, which are difficult to come by. You'd think Don wouldn't be hard pressed to agree, but at the moment he's staring at the teacher so hard that any thoughts of being alone seem to be far from his mind. Well, except possibly one.
Back at the bakery, Francis tells Betty he's got to get going to Albany, and makes a joke about the old His Master's Voice ad in reference to his own situation with the Governor, a bit of levity that seems to go over Betty's head until he starts to explain and she says she's aware of what it is. Yes, Henry, once you've known her a bit you'll learn that just because she didn't laugh doesn't mean she doesn't get the reference. Actually, her pause before that declaration could be interpreted as her covering the fact that she actually didn't get it, but I find that difficult to believe, married as she is to a prolific ad man. I mean, I know Don doesn't share a lot about his work, but that ad wasn't exactly obscure, so I think the pause was just her dealing with the disappointment of Francis leaving so soon. Anyway, they head out to find a waitress and some guy using a "contraption" to look indirectly at the eclipse, whereupon Betty stares straight up into the sky until Francis covers her eyes. Honey, I know you're enjoying his attentions, but blinding yourself to get them seems a little extreme. After Betty takes a moment to recover, they start walking, and she somewhat reproachfully observes that he must have known he wouldn't have time to go to the reservoir. Well, he might have if he hadn't ordered that apple pie. She's probably more upset about missing the chance to go somewhere more secluded with him than she is about her civic mission, but regardless, he changes the subject as t
hey stop in front of a furniture store and he points out a horribly ugly chaise longue, the very same that will end up in Betty's living room, and tells her, referring to her bout with dizziness, that it's what she needs. Ugh, it's hideous -- all busy light pink fabric and overly-ornately carved wood -- and it most certainly does not belong in their new living room, but I'm getting ahead of myself. Anyway, Francis tells her it's a "fainting couch" from the Victorian era, for women to use when they get overwhelmed, and adds that he knows that because he used to move furniture. I'm not sure if they're playing up this blue-collar-upbringing angle of his personality because the combination of it with erudite success is somewhat reminiscent of her father, or of Don, or both, but anyway, Francis offers to walk Betty to her car, but she pointedly tells him Ossining is "still a small town," so he leaves her with the promise of a rain check for the hike and to call her as soon as he knows anything. Again, keeping her hopes up while being sure he'll get maximum gratitude should he succeed. He leaves her, and she turns to regard the ugly couch again. Given my moniker, I am truly appalled that she ends up buying that thing.
Back at Eclipse Central, parents and children alike have cardboard boxes over their heads, which makes for a fairly amusing tableau, but Don is not participating, and the teacher comes over and asks if he doesn't want to watch it, adding that it only happens once every ten years. They make some small talk about how she'll be off in August, but when he, perhaps too pointedly, says he'll be around despite the fact that the place is a ghost town during that month, the teacher takes it as an overture: "You're all the same -- the drinking, the philandering." Hmm, this is interesting, because she obviously made advances to him that were at the very least overly familiar, and did so while drunk. Not only that, she's rewriting history on another front, because she told Don, both verbally and in ways unspoken, he was not like other dads at their last meeting. I think this exchange is very telling and thematic and ties in strongly to the eclipse -- I don't know if I can even articulate it particularly well, but I think the point is to remind us that, like looking at the sun, looking directly at people and seeing what's really there is a forbidden and potentially destructive thing in this era. Like most parallels, I don't know that it completely holds up in every aspect, but in this case, the teacher let Don view something about her other people perhaps haven't seen (and keep in mind that even if there was an attraction, it was motivated by her feelings about a young child's loss of a parent, so it was deeply personal), and because of that, he now holds the power in the relationship. And knowing this makes her angry and scared, which is why she's lashing out in this clumsy way and accusing Don of impropriety. But interestingly, he doesn't use that knowledge to dominate her, at least not here, nor has he done so with other people -- witness how he reacted after learning huge secrets about Sal and Peggy. He could easily bring up that phone call here, but he doesn't. Instead, he convinces her either that he's not being inappropriate or that he's too charming for her to care, maybe both, although she does suggest that people as rich as tend to live in their area get bored more easily than others. Don denies that he's bored, and they gaze into each other's eyes, but Sally interrupts and calls the teacher over to look at the eclipse with her. Don, for his part, finally puts his sunglasses on and stares up into the sky, and it's at this point that the sun is declared legally blind.
Peggy awakens and sits up in that same bed with the man to her...
...and then, at SC, she's closing the door to her office as she calls Duck. He's in a hotel room with some people that look like business colleagues, and she tells him that she hasn't changed her mind and is planning to return the gift. He says he's been at the Pierre (how long it's been!) taking meetings all day, and Hermès is coming in at 4:30, so why doesn't she come and return it herself? She's confused about the hotel locale, but he tells her the Grey offices are "like a Penn Station toilet with Venetian blinds." Way to upsell the place, guy. Also, I can see why she'd want to meet Hermès people, but wouldn't it be a little awkward to do so while returning a Hermès product? It'd be like meeting Michael Bay and asking him to refund your ticket price for Transformers, only much less understandable. Anyway, Peggy tells Duck never to contact her again, and that instruction will be a lot colder if she repeats it later in the episode.
Roger and his tan come in to see Don, and they pour themselves a drink and tell Don they know he hasn't even sent the contract to his lawyer. They add that his lack of a contract is starting to affect their business, and that Don is their David Ogilvy and if he'll only sign, he could have his name out front. "After mine. And Cooper, probably." Heh. Not really sure Roger can promise that, as he doesn't own the place anymore, but let's ignore that, as Roger says they really only need a letter of intent, and his lawyer can rape them later. Don looks up wordlessly at him, so Roger offers, "Grunt once for yes!" Nice. Don's stony silence isn't what Roger was hoping for, though, so he takes his leave: "The problem is, I don't know whether you don't want to do this here, or you don't want to do this at all." I'm not sure why that actually makes a difference, unless Roger is just trying to figure out how personally to take the whole thing. When he opens the door, he sees Peggy, and is like, "Didn't we give you an office?" Hee. Peggy, posterboard in hand, asks Don to sign off before she sends it to the printer, and he invites her in. When she brings up Hilton and starts to say how she'd love to work on the account, however, Don tells her that they're not bringing Hilton in (which...if that's true, I'm guessing he's planning on leaving rather than sign the contract) and he doesn't appreciate her coming in wasting his time with something he didn't actually need to approve. Peggy, flustered, tries to say she was excited about the account, but he practically sneers, "And you thought you'd come in here and ask for it because I never say no." She really does not time her approaches to Don very well, does she? She points out he says no all the time, surely referring to the question of the raise, but that's a mistake as well, as he snaps that she was his secretary, and now she's got an office and a job "that a lot of full-grown men would kill for. Every time I turn around you've got your hand in my pocket." He tells her to put her nose down and pay attention to her work. "There's not one thing that you've done here that I couldn't live without." My reasoned response to this tirade is this: Ooooooooouch. Feeling the same way, Peggy holds it together enough to apologize, and he concedes that she's good, but she needs to get even better and stop asking for things. Obviously, his reaction to her request was disproportionate and incredibly nasty, but, in keeping with the theme here, I think his comment about her having been his secretary is more telling than it seems, because remember: She knows things about him, just as he knows things about her. And I think, when she asks him for stuff like this, it makes him wonder if she thinks she can treat him as an equal, which makes him resentful, despite her explicit request he not treat her badly because of what she knows. And it's easy to say she would never use what she knows against him, but...I would have thought that about Bertram, too.
Roger calls Betty, who greets him with little warmth, and tells her about the contract and that he could really use her help in getting Don to sign it. Her reply: "Don is going to do whatever he's going to do. And honestly, I find it terribly disrespectful that you would go behind his back." Roger starts to stammer an explanation, but she hangs up on him. Not a good day to ask the Drapers for favors.
Peggy turns up at Duck's hotel room, scarf re-boxed and in hand, and Duck tells her she missed Hermès, but still invites her in for a drink. After he explicitly establishes that he's off alcohol, she orders a whiskey, causing Duck to look askance at her and say that she is Don's girl. She replies that she was raised on whiskey, which in this era might be literally true, and after they sit, Duck tells Peggy that Grey has Hermès, Macy's, Heinz baby food, and Revlon. The underlying message isn't lost on Peggy, and she replies, "You need someone in a skirt." I think Sal could sell that in a pinch. Peggy asks some questions about her potential title and travel options, but she quickly turns him down, so he shakes her hand. "I'm just sorry I won't be seeing you every day." In case you're drawing a map, this is where the scene turns. Peggy, looking down at his hand, asks what he's doing in a manner that could certainly be more discouraging, and he tells her he doesn't know how he worked all that time at SC without noticing her. Here's another instance of someone looking directly at someone else, with unclear consequences. He kisses her, and she uncertainly asks what he wants. Duck: "I want to take you in that bedroom, lock the door, take your clothes off with my teeth, throw you on the bed, and give you a go-around like you've never had." Maybe he does write his own copy after all. Peggy, having had her fill of callow youth, is like, "Where do I sign?" They mack.
Betty's sitting at the kitchen table when Don arrives home, and she immediately sends the kids upstairs. Recognizing this as a bad sign, Don asks what's wrong, and she tells him about Roger's call. Don storms over to the phone, and when Betty tells him not to bother with Roger, he tells her not to worry about his job, which I didn't really catch the significance of the first time but definitely backs up the idea that he'll happily leave SC over the contract issue. Betty, however, lashes out at him for keeping it from her, pointing out that he never tells her anything about his work, and by the way, why exactly won't he sign the damn thing? He tries to tell her it doesn't concern her, and when she won't accept that, he claims it's a matter of business -- not having a contract gives him the power. "They want me, but they can't have me." Of course, Betty sees right through this to the underlying issue, which is that he doesn't want to be tied to anyone, even her: "Why would I think that has anything to do with me?" She adds that it's three years. "What's the matter -- you don't know where you're going to be in three years?" Beaten but unbowed, he takes his drink and his hat and heads off into the night...
...and we cut to him driving down a darkened road, sipping his drink as he goes. If he keeps that up, I know where he's going to end up, and it won't take three years to get there, either.
Cut to Duck and Peggy in bed, and he tells her he loves the taste of liquor on her breath...
...and then we cut right back to Don drinking, and the sequence there disturbs me in a whole new way but let's not get into it here, because on the side of the road, Don sees a young couple trying to hitch a ride, and on a whim, he pulls over. He asks where they're headed, and the girl says Niagara Falls, but the guy quickly says they'll settle for the nearest motel. Don has them hop in, and after they introduce themselves as "Doug" and "Sandy," Sandy tells Don they're going to get married even though they're not really in love and don't particularly know each other -- they're doing it so Doug, as a married person, won't be eligible for the draft for VIETNAM. (I'm capitalizing the mentions from now on so you'll know to pay attention.) The kids then chuckle about Don being an ad man and then exposit that they're high and offer Don two Phenobarbital pills as a substitute for gas money, which he downs before tossing his drink out the window. I don't know how long it takes those things to take effect, but I'm guessing the motel guy is going to have an eye-rolling time checking this party in.
When we return, the pills have definitely kicked in to some degree, as Don looks goofy and giddy as he dances with Sandy. The group has also managed to procure some booze, although it wouldn't shock me if Don had it in the back seat for emergencies, and after opining that school is for losers, which is why he won't go back to get out of serving, Doug repossesses his girl with some comments about Don watching them that threaten to take us to premium cable territory. However, a less risqué but equally disturbing thing happens when Don suddenly hallucinates his notorious father Archie in the chair in front of him. He cracks Don up with a joke about hillbillies and their deviant ways, and although it's pretty funny I don't think Don's the most discriminating audience at the moment. Doug, who no longer seems so friendly toward Don, asks what he's laughing at, but he then devotes his attention to making out with Sandy on the other bed, leaving Archie free to tell Don he's a bum. This, I think, is the final piece of why it's being hammered home how much Don hates to have other people see him -- they might learn that he's Dick Whitman, a fraud. Even though that's never really come back to bite him, he's still terrified and feels the need to retain the option of running. Archie snickers that you wouldn't expect Connie to be taken in so easily, which is ironic because Don did tell him about his modest beginnings, and goes on that Don's hands are soft like a woman's, because he doesn't do anything. "You grow bullshit." Don is growing increasingly heavy-lidded, but not quickly enough for the kids, who can't believe he's still awake after taking two of the pills. He's not an amateur, here. Doug, however, takes it upon himself to counter Don's extreme tolerance by punching him in the back of the head, and Don goes down like one of the better-looking trees in the Hudson River Valley...
...and then we're back to him looking at himself in the mirror the morning, obviously having landed on his face. He picks up a note from the girl thanking him for the "help" and saying that they left him his car, adding, "Your welcome." Heh. Stay in school, kids! It can keep you out of the Army and prevent you from making grammatical mistakes in front of large audiences! Don opens his wallet and finds one whole dollar inside, which I'm guessing is not what was there when he arrived, and he disgustedly heads into the bathroom...
...just as Peggy sits up in bed again. Duck asks if everything's okay, but when she says she's worried about Housekeeping disturbing them, he says he put out the Do Not Disturb sign. "I'll call them when we're done." I guess there's no need to announce his randier intentions again, given that she's already naked and in bed. Might not hurt his case to repeat the part about the go-around, though. He adds that he loves the morning, which I'm guessing is a new development in his life now that he's sober. They get to it...
...while Betty's decorator is completely horrified at the monstrosity now sitting where the hearth should be. On the plus side, the chances of it catching on fire at some point are pretty decent. She tells Betty she's ruined the whole room, and if she wants to keep it, "please do not tell people I did this." I'd get her to sign something to that effect, honey, because that thing is beastly.
Peggy sees Don the morning and is shocked at his appearance, which he blames on a fender-bender. She asks if he'd like some coffee, presumably in an attempt to show him she doesn't think so much of herself, but he brusquely refuses. Don, I know you're not in the best mood this episode, especially right at the moment, but please consider GIVING PEGGY A FUCKING BREAK. The viewing audience will appreciate it. After he gives Allison the same explanation, she tells him Bertram is waiting for him. Inside, he finds the man in question, sitting in Don's chair much as Connie did, so you know he means business. After a little story about Sacagawea, Bertram informs Don thusly: "You, Don, have been standing on someone's shoulders. We brought you in, we nurtured you like family, and now's the time to pay us back." Don stares at Bertram sullenly, like a petulant child would, which feels about right, and Bertram adds that he can't go any further on his own. Bertram then produces another copy of the contract and a pen, and asks this: "Would you say I know something about you, Don?" Oooooh. You know, on first viewing, I thought he was being completely evil, but I'm not really feeling any venom here; I'm more inclined to take him at his word that he's merely reminding Don of how well he's been treated, in many senses, and telling him it's time to come along for the ride. Don's the one who's making it into such a trap in his own mind, and Bertram's basically telling him to get over it as he adds, "After all, when it comes down to it, who's really signing this contract anyway?" Okay, I'll admit that was a little evil. Bravo, Robert Morse. I was hoping they kept you around for a reason. Don signs and dates (7-23-1963) the contract, taking some measure of revenge by telling Bertram he wants no further contact with Roger...
...and when he gets home, he tells Betty, who's having a lady moment or whatever on the monstrosity, that he signed the contract. His baleful look is probably linked to the fact that this is what she wanted and that he feels forced to share the news with her, but the couch surely can't be helping matters. He heads up the stairs, and as Ernie Ford's "Sixteen Tons" kicks up, we wonder if Dick Whitman is truly gone for good.
John Ramos is a writer and film producer living in Los Angeles. You can reach him at couchbaron@gmail.com.
Discuss this episode in the Mad Men forums, and take a look at our list of Mad Men's most outrageous moments!
...and when he gets home, he tells Betty, who's having a lady moment or whatever on the monstrosity, that he signed the contract. His baleful look is probably linked to the fact that this is what she wanted and that he feels forced to share the news with her, but the couch surely can't be helping matters. He heads up the stairs, and as Ernie Ford's "Sixteen Tons" kicks up, we wonder if Dick Whitman is truly gone for good.
John Ramos is a writer and film producer living in Los Angeles. You can reach him at couchbaron@gmail.com.
Discuss this episode in the Mad Men forums, and take a look at our list of Mad Men's most outrageous moments!