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As Season 4 begins, Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce is up and running, although at a decidedly more modest scale than anyone there is used to. Just ask them about their mythical second floor!
Don's in a bit of a funk, partially due to living in a sad bachelor apartment while Betty and (husband!) Henry are living in the house Don's paying for, and partially because he royally screws up an interview with Ad Age in which his taciturn Midwestern stoicism is, perhaps for the first time, taken for smug posturing by the reporter. Even worse, he fails to mention Jai Alai, which leads to SCDP offending and possibly losing the walking cash cow that is Ho-Ho.
Peggy and cute new guy Joey are struggling to sell canned ham due to the penny-pinching of the client. Along with Pete, they come up with the New Marketing idea of hiring actresses to stage a fight over a ham at a supermarket in Queens to get some free publicity. The idea works and the client ups their media buy, but unfortunately, overzealous fake-fighting and lingering resentments between the actresses lead to one pressing charges against the other. Peggy is forced to go to Don, hat in hand, for bail money. Don's a dick to her and her maybe-fiancé, but Peggy, as usual, is able to level Don with one poignant exit line.
Betty and Henry are, like I said, married and living in Don's house. His family cannot stand her, and we're treated to the iciest Thanksgiving dinner ever, punctuated by Sally Draper regurgitating her sweet potatoes back onto the plate. Don finally tells Betty to get her narrow ass and her "temporary" husband out of his house. Henry, for his part, agrees and tells Betty to cut the shit and move on.
Roger has the spring back in his step, setting Don up on a date with Sarah Newlin, who appears to catch Don's eye by not putting out. And then he goes home and pays a hooker to slap him around.
By episode's end, Don decides to eschew the whole modesty thing, pitches a bikini ad to a "family-oriented" apparel company that is basically one giant middle finger to the father-and-son prudes in charge, and when they balk, he loudly kicks them out. Then he has Joan arrange a second chance at media glory, being interviewed by the Wall Street Journal and being every bit the boastful, smarmy douche into which the American businessman would soon evolve. Happy 1964, y'all!
Want more? The full recap starts right below!Last we saw our beloved Mad Men (and Certain Women, Subjugated Though They Were, as Was the Style at the Time), Don Draper said "fuck that" to being sold to yet another parent company, so he, Roger, Bert Cooper, and Lane Pryce took Pete, Peggy, Harry, and Joan off to form a new agency. Meanwhile, Betty said "fuck that" to being married to Don and thus went to Reno with Henry Francis to obtain a divorce.
"Who is Don Draper?" As season-opening thematic questions, it's a pretty significant (if obvious) one. The question is being asked by a bespectacled, shorthand-scrawling reporter for (we'll learn) Ad Age who is interviewing Don in the middle of a restaurant. Don takes the question silently, probably probing its deeper Dick Whitman-y double meaning for a moment, but ultimately, he's either not able or not interested in answering it. "What do men say when you ask that," Don wonders, condescendingly. Ad Age says most people think on it for a moment and then come up with something cute. "One man said he was a lion tamer." Don dismisses that kind of bullshit out of hand. Ad Age tries to prompt him by laying out what he knows of the Don Draper mythos: "Knockout wife, two kids, house in Westchester, take the train...anything? Now's your chance." Don is clearly uncomfortable about his personal life being up for discussion -- he doesn't even correct him about the "wife" part. Don finally says he's from the Midwest and "we were taught that it's not polite to talk about yourself."
Ad Age finally moves on to a question about a specific campaign for Glo-Coat, and Don's answer (he wanted the ad to be indistinguishable from a movie ... for the first 30 seconds, at least) is honest but a bit dull. Ad Age is finished and is basically like, "Uh, don't expect a long article," just as Roger and Pete arrive. Don makes introductions, and as Ad Age gets up to shake hands, he stumbles. Over his prosthetic leg. Roger, somewhat hilariously, is like, "So...what's up with that?" Ad Age simply replies, "Korea," which gives smarmy Pete the chance to jump in with his "we're grateful for your sacrifice" speech. You know, that spiel sounds hollow almost all the time anyway, but never more than when Pete Campbell is saying it. Roger smoothly hands Ad Age his card ("for when I finish my book"), and the man makes his way off. Roger wants to sit down for a drink, but they're off to their meeting. It's all hustle with these boys now.
Said interview is with Jim and Bob of Jantzen swimwear. Jantzen whoever, who make, among other things, bikinis. Or, as they'd prefer them to be known, two-piece bathing suits. "Bikini" being a bit too smutty for their family-friendly image. Don, visibly chafing at their prudishness, asks if they want "women who want bikinis to buy your two-piece, or do you just want to make sure women who want a two-piece don't suddenly buy a bikini." Jim, the older (father?) of the two men pauses and aw-shucksily remarks that Don's fancy-talking "just tied a knot in my brain." Bob says they just want to best their competitors without "playing in the gutter." He adds, "That's just who our customers are." "Right now," Don answers.
Cut to Don, Roger, and Pete exiting the elevator at the new Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce offices. It's not the old digs, but everything looks crisp and professional and decidedly un-shabby. The accompanying happy-jazzy music doesn't hurt either. Along the way, we see Joan Holloway has gotten her own office, so high-fives all around for that. Roger concludes what must have been quite the bitch session about the Jantzen guys, chaffing that they come off as prudes, but one of them is probably returning from New York with VD. Don asks his accountant to give him a minute -- Bert Cooper has a bee in his bonnet about something. Don missed a meeting with someone or other, and Cooper was left to show off their meager floorspace. Pete asks if Cooper mentioned the second floor. Cooper: "I refuse to take any part in that charade." Heh. I guess in this business of lies and illusion, what's a made-up second floor to your operation? Cooper complains that they could have gotten more space for their dollar in an office downtown. Don, meanwhile, complains about their lack of a conference table. Ah, partners! Cooper exits, and Pete then turns his happy face to Don, asking why he's so glum since the Jantzen guys clearly loved him. Don hates that they're prudes, but he really hates that Y&R was out in the hallway waiting for the meeting. He thinks to them, SCDP looks like small potatoes. Pete thinks that works in their favor: "We're the scrappy upstart!" Don: "You don't say that to the clients, do you?" Pete also thinks they have one other distinct advantage over Y&R: they have Don. See how much more positive and productive Pete can be when you let him be part of the team?
In Peggy's office -- where our girl is sporting a very Patty Duke-inspired hairstyle -- she and New Guy Joey are aimlessly repeating that old soap opera parody where the woman breathily calls for "John!" and the guy replies "Marsha!" And on and on. Pete interrupts their good times with a canned ham. Boy, doesn't he always? He's worried that Sugarberry -- the ham-makers -- were sending a message by sending them only one ham in a cardboard box with no note. The gist is that while the campaign was listless (Don hated it), Sugarberry wasn't exactly free-spending in the first place. "Testing in four supermarkets in Queens?" Peggy scoffs. "How much were they spending? Nothing." Pete grouses that if the test were successful, they could've gone national and been a big account. "I thought we were getting in a streak." Again, the change in Pete at the beginning of this season is significant. He couldn't be more of a team player. Joey -- who's worried the loss of Sugarberry will put him down to two days a week -- suggests putting the ham on Don's desk, since he'll be having Thanksgiving dinner alone. "That's not nice," Peggy admonishes. Joey volleys back a "Marsha!" but Peggy's serious.
Speaking of the man who dines alone, Don's meeting with his accountant, who tries to press the idea of selling his old house. Betty was supposed to be out by October 1st, after all. "You're carrying a mortgage, plus insurance, plus taxes on a house you don't live in." But clearly Don is reluctant to cut the last tie to Betty. Accountant then changes the subject: "So how are your balls? Are you enjoying yourself?" I love how this episode is taking on the Myth of Don Draper and basically all the ways the fans of Mad Men have been hero-worshipping the guy for three seasons. Aren't these the questions the fanboys would be asking if they could? "Why are you so awesome?" and "How much pussy do you get anyway?" The whole point of the show used to be that these things made Don blend in to his era. Suddenly, they're making him stand out.
Back to Peggy and the Sugarberry Gang. They're sharing some booze and bitching about the client. "Two of their test markets were in Jewish neighborhoods," Pete kvetches. "They're idiots." Peggy starts her mind rolling on ideas for a P.R. stunt. Buying out the entire ham supply, or paying 100 women to line up for Sugarberry hams. A stunt like this is risky -- you can't bill for it, for one thing. But Peggy's got something here: They pay two women to get into a fight at a local supermarket over a Sugarberry ham. "They have to really fight," she stresses, "and get arrested." "Because it's the last ham," Joey interjects. Peggy: "We don't have to write a play. It's Thanksgiving, they're shopping, the stakes are very high." She's very excited about this. They can ply a Daily News reporter to write about it for a case of liquor. They could get that actress Gladys that they like. Pete offers that he could get it expensed if he says the women are whores. Pete! Contributing in the ways he knows how! "Should we run it by Don?" Peggy asks. Pete and Joey both kind of downplay that angle. But Pete's going to call casting.
Roger finds Don not-quite-napping in his office a
nd proceeds to condescend to Don's new, single lifestyle in the guise of trying to set him up with a friend of Jane's. Twenty-five years old! Looks like Virginia Mayo! Gymnastics team at Mount Holyoke! "You hit it off, come Turkey Day you can stuff her!" Oh Roger, you giant pig. Don assents by omission, so Roger calls out to Don's secretary to set up a reservation. He recommends the Chicken Kiev. "Butter squirts everywhere."
Later, Don returns home to his dark, sad apartment. He gives new housekeeper Celia a hard time for not putting things back where she found them. She takes it in stride and exits with a request that Don eat something already. Don idly shines his shoes and watches the poor-quality reception on his TV set. It looks like he's watching a movie ... for the first 30 seconds. Don smiles at his Glo-Coat handiwork. The entirety of the day seems to be spent poring over ads in his portfolio, fussing over his apartment, and generally killing time until his date. Maybe Roger wasn't too far off.
So here's Don on his date with Sarah Newlin fromTrue Blood. We don't get her real name up front, but the credits tell me she's "Bethany Van Nuys." How brilliant. Here, as on True Blood, she's the kind of overly-smiley that makes you distrust her. The big difference is that here, she's in charge, in a very subtle way but there's no question about it. She's like if Joan Holloway suddenly figured out the extent of her powers and decided to stop being deferential as a stratagem. She tells Don she's breaking her rules about dating divorced men, but Jane has made Don her personal crusade. Don wonders if there aren't more important things to crusade about, which leads Bethany to darkly comment upon the state of the world today, "those boys killed in Mississippi," and what it takes to change things. This girl is no Betty. Don is intrigued. It's tough to tell if he's enjoying this conversation-of-equals thing or if he's trying to wrest the upper hand back, but either way, he asks her what she does. She says she's an actress, currently a "supernumerary" in the opera. Not a chorus girl -- she doesn't sing. "I do a lot of mock-drinking," she says with a mixture of humility and the delight that comes with doing what you love, even on the periphery. "I'm a wench, I'm a courtesan, part of a harem. It depends on the opera." Don smiles and says, "That is truly fascinating." She asks if he's ever been to the opera, but he says only on business "so I've never enjoyed it." She tells him he must come as her guest. The waiter comes by with menus, but Bethany doesn't need one. She's getting the Chicken Kiev. "You know they make you wear a bib" Don cautions. "Come on," Bethany counters, "let's have some fun." So Don makes it two Chicken Kievs ("Chickens Kiev"?).
All that butter sauce must've worked too, because in the car afterwards, Don couldn't be more amorous. Bethany holds her ground, however. She asks if she'll see Don at Roger and Jane's for Thanksgiving. Don balks. He moves in, and they kiss. She wants there to be no confusion: she wants to see him again. But she's not inviting him up to her apartment. "We'll see where we are on New Year's," she says. "If it's meant to be, it'll keep." This is a bit more than just a prudish girl and Don's blue balls. This is about wanting to be more than just Don's lay of the week. She leaves Don -- as he's done with so many ad campaigns -- wanting more.
The day, Peggy is sitting in a diner with her two ham-fighting actresses, enthusing about how well today's publicity stunt went. Gladys -- played by comedian Cathy Ladman, who I remember from the old pre-Daily Show Comedy Central days -- grouses that the other "doesn't know when to stop" and rubs her sore shoulder. The other one coolly responds that her objective was to get the ham, and "no one told you to hit me." Peggy glosses over this interpersonal mishegas and welcomes a beaming Pete to the table. Pete hands the women their fees (in unmarked manila envelopes) and says they can look forward to seeing their names and photos in Monday's Daily News. The one who got hit -- Daisy -- asks for an aspirin, which Peggy provides from her purse, and then Peggy suggests they disperse and not have any contact for a while. They all stand up when suddenly, Daisy grabs a handful of Gladys's hair and yanks down, hissing "You hurt me!" Peggy and Pete break it up, and the ladies go their separate ways. That was pretty serious. There was no such thing as hair extensions in the 1960s, so even under Jersey Rules that was a significant offense.
At SCDP, Harry pops into Joan's office (Joan's! Office!), and she welcomes him back from his trip to L.A. with the usual supportive enthusiasm. Harry's forehead, it should be noted, is sunburned to shit, because he can't even stand around in the sunshine without fucking it up. I used to really like Harry, but fucking over Joan the way he did kind of turned the tide on that one. Anyway, Joan smokes a cigarette and looks glamorous and says she would love to have a vacation. Harry gets defensive and is like, "Um, I was working very hard." He also asks if somebody's been using his office. Joan, unfazed by his shittiness: "Mr. Sterling doesn't have a television." HA! Excellent. He has Joan set up a meeting with the partners, which she dutifully marks down while Joey interrupts about something or another. Harry looks at Joan expectantly and asks if she wants to know what the meeting is for. Joan's disinterest could blast a hole in the Time Life building, but Harry tells her anyway: He sold the jai-alai special to ABC. He douchily tells Joan to fetch him a cup of coffee and a grapefruit juice and then doubled back to admonish her: "This is my news." Joan breezily assures him, "I won't even tell people after it's aired." Harry skips away, too dull to know how sharp that reply really was.
Don arrives, and Roger calls him over to speak. He dismisses Lane, who gives Don a "good morning" that is either icy or British, and I'm leaning towards the former. Roger hands Don the copy of Ad Age, and it's not good. The headline ("A Man From a Town With No Name") sounds John Wayne-ish enough, but Roger reads out the more damning excerpts: "'Donald Draper, or Don as he is known, perhaps in an attempt to appear humble, is a handsome cipher.'" Roger also notes that the article says he's married. "I didn't tell him that," Don grouses. "Didn't this guy check any facts?" "You didn't give him any facts," Roger retorts. "He had to make assumptions." Don contends that his job is to write ads, not go around bragging about himself. "Who knows who you are?" Roger asks, again giving us an existential wink. He says this was supposed to be a publicity grab for the agency. "This is a missed opportunity," he sums up. "You turned all the sizzle from Glo-Coat into a wet fart. Plus, you sound like a prick." You know, one of these days, the rest of the cast is going to go on strike until they all get lines as fun as John Slattery gets.
Don is eager to brush it off and forget about it, and even Roger moves on to joshing about ol' One-Leg. He also says Jane's friend liked him quite a bit, even if he was a bit grabby in the car. "Maybe you should've tried some of that on Peg-Leg Pete?" Don again brushes it off. "I thought you were being modest," Roger levels with him. "He didn't. I'm sorry, but after the year you've had, it's just not appropriate." Looks like Dick Whitman has left the era of disappearing into a life and entered the era of self-promotion.
In Pete's office, Peggy shows up to talk Sugarberry. "Is Joey coming?" Pete asks. "I'm here," Joey announces, then emerges from around the corner." I love that Joey's already found a niche. He's Guy Who Appears, As If From Nowhere. (He doubles as Guy Who Goes Away Just As Swiftly.) Anyway, Pete is in his glory as he recounts the Sugarberry exec's reaction to the (as far as he knows) spontaneous supermarket brawl. At first, they worried about a lawsuit, but then they called back. "He's sorry someone got hurt," Pete says, lapsing into impersonation, "but more people will taste their ham now ... and they'll love it!" Much like Pete and Trudy's Charleston exhibition last season, I find it inexplicably delightful when Pete is exhibiting this much glee. Joey wonders how they can put something like this in their book. "You can't," Peggy no-nonsenses. "You can't even charge for it." But! They can use this as impetus to get Sugarberry to increase their media buy. And then, as Peggy says, they use the publicity to their advantage. "The winner of the ham battle is you," Peggy spitballs, coining what could easily be my favorite unused tagline of all time.
Pete geeks out over Lane's reaction to an increased Sugarberry buy, but Peggy's still working something out: "Our hams are worth fighting for." She envisions a cartoon pilgrim scuffling with an Indian. Pete wonders where a great idea like that was weeks ago -- "it's good on its own." Peggy says a slogan's nothing compared to a good idea. Peggy sends Joey off to sketch up an idea, and he hops to it gladly (Just As Swiftly!). Pete calls to Clara to get the Sugarberry exec on the phone. He asks Peggy to stay for the call -- another sign of growth for Pete and progress for Peggy -- but first, Clara says she's got Horace Cook Jr. on the line. And if that name didn't ring a bell for you, Pete's gregarious phone greeting of "Ho-Ho! How was Tijuana" sure will. Pete waves Peggy off. She has gained level footing in the new firm, but Ho-Ho still represents Pete's boys' club.
In SCDP's table-less conference room, the partners (plus Harry, it being his meeting and all) discuss the pros and (mostly) cons of Don's Ad Age profile. Harry tries to bright-side that he wouldn't mind being described this way, but Lane's all over him: "You're a salesman. You don't want to be known as 'mysterious.'" Bert wants no further discussion, but Pete bursts in, followed by Joan. Ho-Ho's taking his jai-alai and going (ho-)home. Harry is particularly put out, as you might expect, having just sold jai-alai to ABC and all. Pete informs the group that Ho-Ho was angry that Don didn't mention them in the article. "I didn't mention anyone," Don says, leaping to his own defense. "That's the reporter's job." At which point everyone kind of groans and looks away. Even Harry's got his head on his hand. Let me repeat: Harry Crane can't believe how dumb what Don just said was. Look, I love Don Draper as much as anyone, but I have to admit, it's kind of awesome to see him hoisted by his own petard like this. "Spectacular," Bert spits. "What the hell is Ho-Ho doing reading Ad Age," asks Roger, once again getting the best line. Pete says Ho-Ho caught wind about how they all laugh at him behind his back (Harry: "I don't!"). "He hung up on me," Pete says. "I think he was crying." Don, holding on with both hands, tries to brush this one off too, saying there wasn't much juice left in Ho-Ho anyway. Lane says that may be so, but without jai-alai, it leaves Lucky Strike as 71% of their business. "It's an untenably insecure position." Leave it to the Brit to make imminent financial collapse sound classy. Don's out of ideas/excuses, so (prepare for world to flip upside down) Pete jumps in with a plan, telling Harry to schedule Ho-Ho for a meeting, pretending he's heard none of this. The idea being that word of the ABC deal will be enough to rope him back in. Harry: "I wish we really had a second floor so I could jump off it."
After Harry stomps off, Don kicks a chair in frustration. Bert informs him they're going to schedule him for a second interview, this time with the Wall Street Journal. Don is at a loss as to what he'll do differently. "I told him the truth," he says, halfway to pleading. "Who gives a crap what I say anyway? My work speaks for me." You guys, I think Don's real even on Oprah. Bert puts him in his place, as only he can do: "Turning creative success into business is your work. And you've failed." Last time, I promise, but really sit back and appreciate just how many characters have been re-energized by the move to the new firm. Bert's never been this animated about anything, and that includes Ayn Rand. Roger's got the skip in his step again. Pete's the ultimate team player. Peggy's more assured than ever. Joan's got her own office. They may be struggling to stay afloat, but I'd say being the "scrappy upstart" agrees with them. Well, not Don, obviously. And Lane honestly looks like he's got all the ulcers. But otherwise! Anyway, the partners leave Don to marinate in his failure. At least he's got Joan, who tells him sweetl
y, "It'll pass." Oh shit, y'all, it's time for Thanksgiving at the Francis house. Henry has Betty, Sally, and Bobby with him, and they sit uncomfortably as Henry's family files into the dining room. Henry's adult daughter greets her grandmother -- Pauline -- warmly but is much cooler towards his dad and ignores the Drapers altogether. Call it a dick move if you must, but you wouldn't talk to any of them and you know it. They do manage to hand presents over to Sally and Bobby. Once everyone's seated, Henry's daughter apologizes for being late, as the traffic was murder. "That's what's become of this country," Pauline grouses. "Everyone has two Thanksgivings to go to." The pointedness of the statement is not lost on Henry, who volleys back that maybe under this circumstance, there's more to be thankful for. Betty grabs his hand in support even though she's not doing a great job of projecting someone worth giving thanks for.
Sally has barely touched her food, and ever the grandmother, Pauline notices. "Don't you like the food, dear?" Pauline asks. Sally: "No." Betty's mortified, of course, so she goes to that old standby of hers: intimidation and abuse. She tells Sally to at least eat the sweet potatoes, even pointing out that it comes with a marshmallow. Betty shoves it all into Sally's mouth, 'mallow and all. Sally gags it back, because she's as willful as her mom and juuust a bit brighter (I suspect she knows this reflects worse on Betty, tasked as she is with getting Henry's family to accept her, than it does on her). Betty yanks Sally up from her seat and drags her into the room. "Sorry," Sally calls pitifully as she's being dragged. "It's all right dear," Pauline faux-graciously declares, as she calls Isabel in to clean the mess. Offscreen, Sally cries, "Ow! Stop pinching me!" Yeah, that girl knows exactly the game she's playing. Back at the table, Bobby cuts through the uncomfortable silence: "I love sweet potatoes." Bobby will definitely say the Gump-iest thing at any given moment. Henry calls again for Isabel.
At Don's Sad Pad, he answers a knock at the door to be greeted with a "Happy Thanksgiving" from a woman who, while I could mince words and waste both our time, is plainly a prostitute. We know this because Don pulls out his wallet immediately after she enters, because her sleek, revealing black dress speaks volumes, and because she starts shtupping Don with the dispassionate workmanship of a real pro. Cut to this proud woman riding atop a naked Don Draper (pretty much filling in the Webster's entry for "nice work if you can get it") as she calmly announces her intentions to remove her brassiere. And who could blame her, that thing's so pointed, it looks like she's wearing twin Travelocity gnomes. Don's like, "Wait, not yet [...AMC won't let us show your boobs]," but Prostitunia admonishes him not to tell her what to do. "I know what you want," she continues. And then she starts slapping him. Hard. Harder. Not that it should come as any surprise to anyone that Don would want this kind of treatment in the bedroom. After all those years married to Betty? At least now he's not getting frostbite.
Some time later, Prostitunia wakes Don up with news of a phone call. Normally she wouldn't answer, but it was the third try. Perturbed, Don takes the call. On the other line, of course, is Peggy. Was there even a question? "I need $280 for bail," she tells him. Of course she does! Though, honestly, after bailing out Don and Bobbie Barrett, Don does kind of owe Peggy one in this arena. Prostitunia takes off as Peggy hesitates to tell Don the reason. She gingerly explains the Sugarberry stunt, making sure to mention that they got them to increase their media budget. Then she mentions the actresses and how one is pressing charges against the other. "It's $80 bail and a hundred each to keep their mouths shut." Don asks why she isn't calling Pete. Peggy takes a drag of her smoke and asks if he thinks he's her first call.
Cut to Don answering the door to Peggy, who is accompanied by a diminutive gentleman-caller type, hanging back, holding a casserole dish. Don starts reading her the riot act about how he doesn't think this is funny or cute (it is) and how they should have run this by him first, and they all look like fools now (they don't, and they won't if he'll just hand over the cash, but whatevs, he's making a point). Short Guy -- Mark -- steps up to tell Don to take it easy on Peggy, at which point Don snaps at him too: "Who are you?" Mark feebly introduces himself as Peggy's fiancé. Oh REALLY? Don barely registers this as news, and Peggy tells him, quietly, "don't." Don rifles through his wallet for the cash and asks what she brought Mark up for if she didn't want him involved. Peggy's a big girl, though, and she takes her lumps and collects the money. After Don shuts his door, she turns to Mark: "Fiancé?" Mark: "It just came out."
That night, Betty and Henry are getting amorous in bed when she hears a noise out in the hallway. It's Sally, of course. She's trying to sneak a phone call to her dad. Betty takes the phone away and tells Sally she'll see Don tomorrow. And then, because so far this has been a pretty average moment devoid of the usual Betty awfulness, she adds: "Were you calling to complain about how awful I am? Don't expect any sympathy when he hears my side of the story." I know it says all sorts of terrible things about me, but Betty's awful mothering is easily my favorite thing about the character. What fresh psychological hell will she unleash on her poor doomed brats from week to week? I'm on pins and needles, giggling. Sally begs her mom not to tell her dad anything, and having successfully cowed her child, Betty orders her to bed. Back in the boudoir, Betty gets kissy again, but Henry instead proposes they wait until Don takes the kids tomorrow and they can take a little day trip. Yeah, watching Mommie Dearest doesn't exactly put me in the mood either, Henry, I feel you.
The morning, Don shows up to pick up Sally and Bobby. Sally, for as much as she wanted to call Don last night, telegraphs her discomfort with her dad, even wiping the top of her head after he kisses it. Poor, messed up kid. Don and Betty have a terse exchange of words over baby Gene (Carla took him for the day, since Don wasn't going to and Betty and Henry have plans), and Don and Henry have an even more terse exchange about nothing at all. After Don and the kids leave, Henry and Betty get in the car, in the garage. But rather than embark on a trip up the Hudson, Henry wants to get busy right in the front seat. Where are Peggy and Joey to do the "John and Marsha" voices when we need them?
That night, Don tucks the kids into their bunk beds at the Sad Pad. The day, they watch...Dennis the Menace? Some TV show or another. Sad music plays, because this is what's become of Don's time with his kids, but let's be honest: was his quality time with them any more vibrant before the divorce? When it's time for Don to return them home, they find the house empty. So Don sits in a dark house that used to be his and waits for Betty and Henry to return. When they do, Don announces his presence and says it's 10:00. Henry said he thought they said they'd be back at 10; Don says they didn't. Betty: "I waited for you plenty of times." Don asks Henry to leave them alone, but of course Henry is a man and does not have to do what Don tells him to do. So he asks Betty to tell him what to do. Even her "It's fine" is too ambiguous, he wants to know if he should stay or go. Betty says to stay. Oh, Henry, not your finest hour. Don asks when Betty's moving out -- it's been a month since she was supposed to be gone. Betty makes some flimsy excuse about finding a place that's right for the kids, but Don says whatever the case, if she's not gone soon, he's going to have to start collecting rent. Betty is as shocked at this statement as anything she's heard. Almost hard to believe anyone's ever called her spoiled. Don turns to Henry and says he could buy the place. "Don," Henry says, "it's temporary." Quick as a whip, Don says, "Believe me, Henry, everybody thinks this is temporary." SLAM! Exit line! Draper gets the last word!
After Don leaves, Betty pouts about his nerve. But Henry says he's right. Betty returns to her feeble, kids-based excuses. She can't just uproot them from their school and lives without a place to go! What kind of a mother would she be then? "You're not even looking," Henry says. "There's nothing out there," Betty says, "and he doesn't decide." That first part may or may not be true, but obviously it's the second part that is the real reason Betty's still here.
SCDP, the day. Peggy comes to Don with a Sugarberry ham, both a peace offering and an actual gift from Sugarberry. "They could have just as easily fired us," Don grouses. "But they didn't," Peggy returns, "because they sold more hams." Because she gets RESULTS, you stupid chief! Peggy then invites Don to take credit for the scheme, if he wants to, but Don sticks by his guns: he's not impressed. He doesn't approve of "these kinds of shenanigans," and he guesses she knew that, since she didn't tell him about it. "It was going great," Peggy rationalizes, "until it wasn't." He then asks about the whole fiancé thing. She says he's not, really, but she also chastises Don for calling him out like he did. "You brought him with you because you thought I wouldn't embarrass you," Don correctly intuits. But instead of apologizing, Peggy simply says, "At least I'm thinking ahead." Determined to shame her about something, Don then tells her she needs to start thinking about the image of SCDP. Peggy: "Well, nobody knows about the ham stunt, so our image is pretty much where you left it." OH YES SHE DID. Don immediately lets her know he won't be needing her in the Jantzen presentation. "Now you're being spiteful," she says, though Don chalks it up to not wanting a "girl" in the room with the uptight Jantzen people. "You know something," says Peggy, gearing up to Tell Don Draper How It Is, as she occasionally does, "we are all here because of you. All we want to do is please you."
Henry Francis is at his mother's house, helping her take the expanders out of the dining room table. In a moment that gives me the closest thing to acid flashbacks I'll ever get, he asks if he really needs to take the expanders down to the basement, since they'll need them again at Christmas. I heard that, Henry. "Did the children like their gifts?" Pauline asks. Henry recognizes this as something of a conversational warning shot, but he doesn't engage, simply saying they did. "It's nice the holiday is memorable for something else," she needles. Mrs. Francis, you can sit by me at the holiday dinner. I love sweet potatoes, and we can shit-talk Betty Draper until the tryptophan kicks in.
Henry tries to make it seem like Pauline is blaming Sally for "getting sick," but Pauline has a point to make. She's raised plenty of children so she knows it when she sees it: "They're terrified of her." Henry says she doesn't know any of the people she's talking about, which is true. Doesn't make her any less right. "I know what you see in her," she persists. "And you could've gotten it without marrying." God love this woman. Henry begs her to give Betty a chance, even bullshitting that Betty "loves" her. "She's a silly woman," Pauline says, almost begging Henry to realize it. "Honestly, I don't know how you can stand living in that man's dirt." Bereft of a decent comeback, Henry just stomps off with one of the expanders.
At SCDP, Don (with Roger and Pete) is presenting an ad to the Jantzen folks. Don's busy setting the scene when Jim interrupts to ask if he can put his foot on the coffee table that's there instead of a conference table. "Pretend like it's your living room," Roger says, in that perfect Roger way where it seems like he's being accommodating but really he's telling you what a prick you are. Don continues talking about the beach and bathing suits, and how the differences between swimwear and underwear are miniscule variations of cut and cloth and what is essentially a gentleman's agreement. Don reveals the placard with his ad on it: a Gidget-looking bathing beauty wearing (fairly ample, by today's standards) bikini bottoms. Over the area where the top piece would be, there's a black bar, giving the illusion of toplessness. On that black bar is the slogan: "So well built, we can't show you the second floor." Like a lot of people, I thought the "second floor" stuff was a little too on the nose, thematically. Maybe if we consider that Don is intentionally deep-sixing his own pitch, this could be an internal fuck-you, but otherwise "second floor" doesn't make much sense to anyone not watching a TV show called Mad Men. Which I assume the Jantzen fellas are not.
Anyway, Bob is like, "Remember how we told you we were totally into modesty? Like, to a Mormon-worthy degree? Did you maybe forget that?" Don smirks that he was actually going for something "suggestive." "A wink, but it's not a leer." Bob again stresses "modesty," and Don tries to sell this ad as being modest. It will make their competitors look crude, plus it will make people want to see the suit. "They'll want to see the girl," Jim corrects him. And who knows if she's even wearing clothes?! Don sighs and says the ad will get asses into the store, which is what they're paying him to do. "It's not wholesome," Bob decides. They're a family company, after all. Don's idea of "family" isn't what it was a year ago, though. "Your competitors are going to keep killing you," he tells them. "Because you're too scared of the skin that your two-piece was designed to show off." He tells them they have to decide between being "comfortable and dead, or risky and possibly rich." The parallels to Don and the way he deals with self-promotion and publicity are fairly clear, yes? Bob bottom-lines it for Don that whatever they are, they don't want this ad. Don huffily turns the placard back around and tells them that he hopes they enjoyed "looking in the window" of a creative agency. He stomps out, followed by Roger, leaving Pete to glad-hand the Jantzens.
Roger catches up with Don -- the glass walls in the conference room mean this is in full view of the Jantzens and vice versa -- and tells him to cool down. Hopefully Pete can convince them to hear some more pitches in a week or so. But Don's not into that. "That's not the point," he says, and he steps back into the conference room and shouts at the Jantzens to get out. They're agog at being treated this way. Don actually SNAPS at them, like you would a DOG. "COME ON!" he shouts, "LET'S GO!" Out in the hallway, he asks a secretary to cal
l Bert Cooper's guy at the Wall Street Journal.
Cut to a restaurant where once again Don Draper is being interviewed by a journalist. This time, however, when he's asked a self-aggrandizing question about whether he's the creative force behind SCDP, Don leans forward and tells the story of "Sit Down, Have a Seat." Only instead of being a move of desperation, Don tells it as a tale of cocksure bravado. "I realized I had two choices," he says. "I could die of boredom, or I could holster up my guns." So you could say Don has picked up this self-promotion thing pretty quickly, huh? "So I walked into Lane Pryce's office and I said, 'Fire us.'" The music swells and we fade out just as Don's getting to the part about SCDP's two floors in the Time Life building.
Joe R is as desperate for Ken Cosgrove to return as the rest of you, so long as Joan gets to keep that office. He can be reached for lavish praise and nothing but at joseph.reid21@gmail.com.
Discuss this episode in our forums, and read our interview with Lane Pryce himself, Jared Harris. Then see the show's most outrageous moments so far!
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l Bert Cooper's guy at the Wall Street Journal.
Cut to a restaurant where once again Don Draper is being interviewed by a journalist. This time, however, when he's asked a self-aggrandizing question about whether he's the creative force behind SCDP, Don leans forward and tells the story of "Sit Down, Have a Seat." Only instead of being a move of desperation, Don tells it as a tale of cocksure bravado. "I realized I had two choices," he says. "I could die of boredom, or I could holster up my guns." So you could say Don has picked up this self-promotion thing pretty quickly, huh? "So I walked into Lane Pryce's office and I said, 'Fire us.'" The music swells and we fade out just as Don's getting to the part about SCDP's two floors in the Time Life building.
Joe R is as desperate for Ken Cosgrove to return as the rest of you, so long as Joan gets to keep that office. He can be reached for lavish praise and nothing but at joseph.reid21@gmail.com.
Discuss this episode in our forums, and read our interview with Lane Pryce himself, Jared Harris. Then see the show's most outrageous moments so far!
Want to immediately access TWoP content no matter where you are online? Download the free TWoP toolbar for your web browser. Already have a customized toolbar? Then just add our free toolbar app to get updated on our content as soon it's published.