Problem child David Collins enters the restaurant at the Collinsport Inn. Mrs Sarah Johnson, longtime housekeeper to the late Bill Malloy, is confronting dashing action hero Burke Devlin, declaring that he is to blame for Bill’s death. David angrily defends Burke. Burke whisks him out of the restaurant into the hotel lobby.
Little does David know that the confrontation between Burke and Mrs Johnson was staged for the benefit of his family, the ancient and esteemed Collinses. The two of them are scheming to have Mrs Johnson placed on the Collinses’ domestic staff as housekeeper so that she can spy on Burke’s enemy, David’s father, high-born ne’er-do-well Roger Collins.
Burke and David have a charming little scene in the lobby. David stumbles over many of his words. These are probably flubs, but they fit so perfectly with what we would expect a highly agitated nine year old to sound like that the writer might have wished he’d put them in the script. David says that he and Burke are two of a kind, that everyone in the world is against them, and that he wants to murder them all. Burke asks if this wouldn’t be a bit of a drastic solution. While David ponders that question, Burke ushers him up to his suite.
There, David asks if it is true that he told his aunt, reclusive matriarch Liz, that he would use any means at his disposal to strip the family of all its assets. Burke says that he offered to buy the house, and reminds David that he himself had suggested Burke do that so the two of them could enjoy a freewheeling bachelor existence there. David accepts this at once and is all smiles. He then tells Burke that his governess, Miss Victoria Winters, has been teaching him about the Civil War. The theme of divided loyalties has been weighing on him- how can he choose between two sides led by Liz and Burke, the only two people he likes? Burke tells him they will just have to work out a peaceful solution, and David smiles again.
David Henesy and Mitchell Ryan were not only excellent actors- preternaturally so, in the case of the preteen Henesy- but were also such appealing personalities that scenes featuring the two of them are irresistible. These particular scenes build Burke up as a villain. In his conversations with Mrs Johnson and in a couple of phone conversations, he has made it clear that he is indeed committed to destroying the Collinses. Even if this is the first episode we have seen, we know that he is lying to David and tricking him into helping with the annihilation of his birthright. Returning viewers have seen him being even more explicit about his plans on many occasions. So our loyalties are as divided as David’s- we are eager to see more interactions between Mitch Ryan and David Henesy, but are appalled by what is going on between Burke Devlin and David Collins.
High-born ne’er-do-well Roger Collins talks on the phone with his sometime partner in crime, drunken artist Sam Evans. They agree to meet in Collinsport’s tavern, The Blue Whale. After Roger gets off the phone, well-meaning governess Vicki passes by. He invites her to come with him to the tavern. Up to this point Roger has often been quite unpleasant to Vicki and she has been wary of him. Also, he is a married man, and she has reason to suspect that he is her uncle. On the other hand, he is no longer a suspect in an active homicide investigation, and she hasn’t had a date in months. So she accepts.
Most of the episode takes place in the Blue Whale. Sam is there with his daughter, Maggie, The Nicest Girl in Town. Hardworking young fisherman Joe joins them, and they invent a drinking game. Every time someone mentions the name “Collins,” the table must drink a toast to “Collins of Collinsport!” Getting into a situation where you have to take a drink every time Sam wants one isn’t a particularly prudent thing to do, but Maggie and Joe are in a daring mood.
Maggie has clearly set her cap for Joe. She gives him a frankly aggressive look that is startling to see in the face of The Nicest Girl in Town. Startling, but most welcome- Joe is still trapped in a useless storyline where he is boyfriend to flighty heiress Carolyn. But when we see him having a good time with Maggie, we can finally see the light at the end of that tunnel.
Roger and Vicki show up. Roger and Sam go off and talk about something or other having to do with their dark doings. This conversation is meaningful only to the two of them. At this point, even the sheriff has lost interest in Roger and Sam’s little conspiracy. The actors are fun to watch- Louis Edmonds and David Ford always enjoyed playing off each other- but the audience certainly can’t be expected to keep track of whatever they’re talking about.
Vicki joins Maggie and Joe for some pleasant chatter about a couple of plot points the audience might want to keep in mind. Roger, frustrated by his talk with Sam, comes to the young people’s table and insults them. Joe, though he is an employee of the Collins family business, offers to fight Roger in defense of Maggie’s honor. Vicki and Sam break the fight up before Joe can throw his first punch. Roger announces that he has a headache and takes Vicki home.
Once there, Vicki thanks Roger for the evening, with no apparent sarcasm in her voice. He apologizes, and promises to take her out again. She sounds genuinely excited by the idea of another such outing. Who knows, next time maybe she will get something to eat, or a drink, or more than three minutes of conversation before she has to stop a fistfight and go home.
If Roger really is Vicki’s uncle- that is, if his sister, reclusive matriarch Liz, is secretly Vicki’s mother, as the show has been hinting pretty heavily- then a romance between Vicki and Roger would seem to be a soap opera cliche. Liz has struggled to keep Vicki from finding out anything about her origins. If Liz sees Vicki about to enter into an incestuous marriage, she might feel forced to stand up at the wedding when the minister asks if anyone present knows why these two may not be joined in lawful matrimony and to expose the secret.
The jukebox at the Blue Whale plays some music we haven’t heard before. The Dark Shadows wiki identifies it as a series of tracks from Les and Larry Elgart’s album “The New Elgart Touch.” It’s a step down from the tracks by Robert Cobert the jukebox has played so far, but it is a fitting accompaniment to the dancing of this guy. In most places he would be thought awkward, but by the standards of Collinsport he is indistinguishable from Fred Astaire:
Friday’s episode ended, not with a cliffhanger, but with a visitation from the supernatural, as we saw the ghost of Josette Collins descend from her portrait and pirouette around the columns of the mansion she haunts. Today, Roger and Vicki sit in the diner, where he gives her a lecture about the sardine-packing business.
The apparition of Josette was the climax of an episode featuring more exterior footage than we have seen thus far. Today, we have several more location inserts, as we see Roger and Vicki walking around the village of Collinsport. As that one came to a climax with a new set- the Old House- this one also ends with our first look at a new set- the outside of the front doors of the great house of Collinwood.
These attention-getting moves prompt us to look for something big. The makers of the show tell us in so many words that the business story isn’t it.
After Roger has told Vicki a few facts about the sardine industry, she asks how the fishermen know where to look for sardines. He makes it clear that he has reached the limit of his willingness to discuss the topic with a dismissive, “Oh… luck. And experience.” Only when his enemy Burke comes in and he wants to look busy does Roger return to the subject with gusto. After Vicki has toured the cannery, Burke asks if Roger showed her “the place where they cut the heads off the fish.” Neither of those characters would watch a show about the sardine industry, or expect anyone else to do so. When they tell us that the business Burke is scheming to seize from Roger’s family doesn’t seem like exciting narrative fodder even to the two of them, the makers of Dark Shadows are telling us to forget about the business stories and focus on the sort of thing we saw at the end of Friday’s installment.
There is one bit of trivia that I hold onto from this episode. Vicki mentions to Roger that she finds it amusing that the family’s wealth began with the whaling industry and now comes from sardines- from the greatest giants of the sea to some of the tiniest fish in the ocean. An origin as whalers fits with the idea they have at this period of the show, that the Collins family first became wealthy in the 1830s.
Later, they will push them back in time, and present them as having already been rich long before then. That would rule out whaling as the first source of the Collinses’ riches. The New England whaling industry was a creation of the nineteenth century. The region’s wealth prior to that time was founded on cod fishing.
One of the major themes of the show in this period is that the Collinses are much less rich and operate on a much smaller scale than they did in the past. The transition from whales to sardines is an obvious metaphor for that decline. So obvious, in fact, that Vicki’s remark is rather a tactless one.
Reclusive matriarch Liz calls well-meaning governess Vicki into the drawing room in the great house at Collinwood. She asks Vicki where her charge, problem child David, is. When she tells her David is upstairs in his room, she asks Vicki to close the drawing room doors, explaining that she does not want their conversation overheard.
Of course David comes downstairs and puts his ear to the doors as soon as they are closed. Liz starts talking with her about some recent plot developments, and we hear a commotion outside the doors. Tightly-wound caretaker Matthew has caught David eavesdropping. Liz sends Vicki and David away, and talks to Matthew about events we saw several days ago.
David starts telling Vicki about the ghosts who haunt Collinwood, and shows her a drawing he made of one of them. Vicki is impressed with the drawing, and shows it to Matthew. Matthew accuses David of going to the Old House and copying the portrait hanging there. Vicki has never heard of the Old House- nor has the audience, it’s the first reference to it. David denies Matthew’s accusation, and says that it is a drawing of a ghost he has seen.
Vicki takes the drawing to Liz, who immediately recognizes it as Josette Collins. She opens the family history to the page featuring a portrait of Josette, and asks David if he copied that portrait. Again David insists it is a drawing of an actual ghost he has seen. The day before yesterday, in episode 68, we saw David studying that page, so it is quite plausible that he did copy it. Still, regular viewers will remember that in episode 52 the book opened itself to that same page when no one but the audience could see, so we might also wonder if David is telling the truth.
Flighty heiress Carolyn tries to talk her mother into hiring a housekeeper. When she mentions that one thing a housekeeper might relieve Liz of is her loneliness, she answers wryly, “You forget, dear, I have all of David’s ghosts.” In this reply, we return to the ambiguity of the first weeks of the show, when, in conversations with Vicki, one character after another would use the word “ghost” in a metaphorical sense, to refer to present difficulties resulting from unresolved conflicts in the past. Vicki would invariably respond with some line like “Surely you don’t believe in ghosts!,” as if they were talking about literal ghosts. And each time, the response would be that they did indeed believe in literal ghosts, and that if she stayed in the old dark house on the hill for any length of time she would believe in them too. Aside from the book opening itself in #52, the ghostly manifestations we have seen so far have been equivocal, possibly hoaxes, possibly tricks of the light. Even the incident of the book was small and symbolic. The ghosts could still dissolve into the atmosphere and into mere metaphor.
Determined to befriend David, Vicki agrees to go to the Old House with him to look for ghosts. We are treated to 90 seconds of location footage of Vicki and David walking through the woods to the Old House. This is by far the longest exterior sequence in the entire series, and it is done with extraordinary ambition. Most of Dark Shadows’ exterior shots are not only extremely brief, but are accompanied only by music. In this one, the actors’ voices are dubbed throughout, and multiple sound effects are added.
Vicki and David enter the Old House. As they do so, David shines his flashlight directly into the camera and creates a halo effect. This would not seem desirable, but it will be done dozens of times in episodes to come. It’s probably a mistake here- maybe a mistake most of the time- but they do it so often, there must have been some kind of intentionality behind it.
The first flashlight halo
Vicki and David examine the portrait of Josette hanging above the mantle. Vicki is impressed with its likeness to David’s drawing. David tells her that he has been through every part of the Old House, but denies that the portrait was his model. He tells Vicki of the legend that Josette’s ghost is trapped at Collinwood until another girl falls to her death from Widow’s Hill, and goes on and on about his hope that Vicki will be that girl.
This charming conversation is interrupted when the door suddenly opens. Frightened, David breaks off in the middle of telling Vicki that he wants her to die and clutches at her for safety.
I want you to die! Please save me!
In a moment like this, we can understand why Vicki keeps believing she can reach David. She knows that he is deeply disturbed, and that his violence may well turn against her. But she can also see inside him an awareness that he needs a friend. She has decided to risk his worst in hopes that his sense of that need will eventually break through his rage.
It is Matthew at the door. He scolds Vicki and David for visiting the Old House after he had told them how dangerous it is. The three of them talk a bit about the legends, then Matthew insists on leaving. Vicki turns to David, apparently willing to stay there with him. David looks bitterly at Matthew, and says that there is no point in staying. Josette won’t appear when Matthew is around, because she doesn’t like him. When Matthew says the place should be torn down, David becomes upset and says that he will tell Josette to kill him if he tries it.
The three of them do leave. Then something happens…
We see the vacant parlor of the Old House. The portrait of Josette begins to glow. A figure takes shape, and walks down from the portrait to the floor. It vanishes from the parlor, and reappears outside. It dances among the columns surrounding the house, glowing an unearthly white. Josette has come all the way out of the back-world into the foreground. We can expect her to stick around. Perhaps others will follow where she has led.
Evidently, Johnson and Crock had access to much of the original paperwork generated by the makers of the show. Today’s closing credits are truncated by a technical fault. The only writing credit shown is Art Wallace’s story creator tag. Fandom has jumped to the conclusion that Art Wallace wrote the episode, but the documents show that Francis Swann did. That makes sense- the two of them have been swapping weeks, with Wallace writing five episodes, then Swann writing five. Swann wrote the other four episodes this week, and Wallace wrote next week’s five, so it would be a deviation from the pattern if Wallace wrote this one as well. Since the episode is such a watershed in the development of the show it is tempting to attribute it to the original writer. But clearly, it is Swann who gave us our first looks at the Old House and at Josette.
Soap operas are supposed to have a weekly rhythm. Fridays bring a whirlwind of flashy, unexpected events, building up to a big cliffhanger. On Monday, the cliffhanger is resolved and the flashy, unexpected stuff is sorted out so that new viewers can find their way into the show. On Tuesdays and Wednesdays, you experiment with new storylines that may or may not go anywhere, and on Thursdays you set up for another boffo Friday.
At no point in its run did Dark Shadows adhere to this pattern. This week, for example, has had four relatively fast-paced episodes on Monday through Thursday, then slows down for a Friday episode consisting of a couple of leisurely conversations. Conversations in which the audience is presented with a lot of basic exposition, but still, a big shift down in dramatic intensity from the four days leading up to it. A bit later, after writer Art Wallace leaves the show, there will be weeks with no apparent structure at all, certainly no boffo whirlwind Fridays. After the show becomes a hit and Sam Hall takes the lead among the writing staff, every day will be a whirlwind, and every commercial break a cliffhanger.
One of today’s conversations takes place in the home Maggie Evans, the nicest girl in town, shares with her father, drunken artist Sam. The other takes place in the sheriff’s office.
Maggie has brought well-meaning governess Vicki home for dinner. They talk about Vicki’s quest to learn the secret of her origins and about the manslaughter case that sent dashing action hero Burke Devlin to prison ten years ago. Meanwhile, Burke has barged into the sheriff’s office and is demanding information about the ongoing investigation into the mysterious death of plant manager Bill Malloy. The sheriff gives Burke more answers than it would be proper for an investigator to give a member of the public in real life, but nonetheless frustrates his need to dash into heroic action. Burke leaves the sheriff’s office, and barges into the Evans cottage as dinner is served. The Friday cliffhanger is Burke asking if he may join the Evanses and Vicki for dinner.
I suppose you could call this one of Art Wallace’s diptychs. Both conversations feature insistent questioners and reluctant responders. Burke improperly demands information from the sheriff. The sheriff parries his demands, observing Burke’s reactions as he sizes him up as a suspect in the case. The sheriff remains very much in control of the situation. As in previous episodes, we see that the sheriff alone exercises power in the sheriff’s office. By contrast, Sam loses control entirely in the face of his two questioners. Again as in previous episodes, we see that Sam has no power to resolve a conflict, whether at home or anywhere else.
That’s the dramatic content of the episode. The expository content is much more involved. Vicki looks through Sam’s paintings, and finds a portrait that strongly resembles her. When Sam tells her that the painting is 25 years old and that the model was a Collinsport girl, Vicki is excited, thinking she may have found a relative. Sam tells her he doesn’t believe that’s possible. He had heard that the model, whose name was Betty Hanscombe, had died a few months after he painted her portrait, years before Vicki was born, and that she had no living relatives.
Note that Sam had only heard that Betty died. She had left town before then, and had no close connections to anyone with whom Sam was in touch. He could easily have heard wrong. So experienced soap opera watchers will brace themselves for the possibility that Betty Hanscombe will make a surprise entrance at some point and reveal herself to be Vicki’s mother and someone else’s secret half-sister.
When Maggie and Vicki ask Sam about the manslaughter case, he becomes agitated. Trapped into telling the story, he takes a drink and looks away from the young women. He tells essentially the same story high-born ne’er-do-well Roger had told his sister, reclusive matriarch Liz, in episode 32, but with some details added.
Burke and Roger were extremely close in those days, ten years ago. For a moment, Sam seems to be having trouble finding the words to express just how close. Along with Burke’s girlfriend Laura, they went drinking one night at a bar on the road between Collinsport and Bangor. Witnesses at the bar testified that Burke was so drunk they had to carry him to his car, and that he insisted on driving. Roger and Laura were his passengers. Burke himself admitted that he blacked out and couldn’t remember the drive. At some point, the car hit and killed a man named Hansen and kept going. At the trial, Roger and Laura testified that Burke was driving when his car hit Hansen. Burke thought that he might have got out of the driver’s seat and handed the keys to Roger before the accident. Burke was convicted, and publicly swore that he would avenge himself on Roger. A week after he was sentenced, Roger and Laura were married.
So that’s the basis for “The Revenge of Burke Devlin” storyline. I’m not a criminal lawyer, but I wonder if Burke wouldn’t have been guilty of manslaughter no matter who was behind the wheel at the moment of the collision. By all accounts, Burke drove drunk, and was drunk in his car when it killed someone. If at some point he stopped driving and handed the keys to someone else whom he knew also to be drunk, that would indeed add to that person’s culpability, but I don’t see how it would clear Burke’s name. To do that, Burke would have to change the events themselves.
To make sense of the storyline, perhaps we can revisit the tale of the night of the accident. Two lovers and their friend were in a car involved in a hit and run. Afterward, one lover turned against the other, and took up with the friend. Everyone thought the lovers before that night were Burke and Laura, and that the friend was Roger. But if the men were lovers and Laura were the friend tagging along on their date, Burke’s frantic campaign to alter the past and Roger’s grim determination to hide it take on a new significance.
The cast of the show and its writing staff were largely drawn from Broadway, where in the 1950s, 60s, and 70s many playwrights had hits with dramas in which some people try to rewrite history and others try to conceal it in desperate attempts to erase unconventional sexual relationships. Indeed, when Sam stumbles in his attempt to find words to describe the bygone intimacy Roger and Burke shared, we can’t help but remember that Sam is played by David Ford, fresh off a long engagement as Big Daddy in a production of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. It is by no means fanciful to wonder if that stumble hints at the suspicion of a relationship Tennessee Williams would have found interesting.
Miscellaneous:
At the end of his post about this episode on Dark Shadows from the Beginning, Marc Masse goes on at length about other things you might have seen on television in mid-September 1966. This is not my favorite feature of his blog, but this time it includes a couple of irresistible bits from commercials featuring Dark Shadows cast members. Here’s a still from a spot in which David Henesy sells cereal (with a side of racism, but it’s hard to imagine that was his fault):
Art Wallace, credited as the author of this episode’s script, specialized in finely-etched character studies. Often as not, he favored a diptych structure, in which the episode intercuts between two groups of characters. In the contrast between their relationships, we learn more about them in a shorter time than we could if one group was on screen the whole time.
He doesn’t use that structure today. It’s more of a kaleidoscope, in which the characters tumble about, moving from set to set, recombining in different groups. The five reflecting surfaces in this particular kaleidoscope are drunken artist Sam; hardworking young fisherman Joe; the sheriff; flighty heiress Carolyn; and problem child David. Their reactions to the mysterious death of plant manager Bill Malloy have set them spinning.
Carolyn, Sam, and the sheriff play it very hot. Bill was like a father to Carolyn. She wants to keen over him, and is raging with frustration that she can’t find anyone to wail with. Bill was trying to prove that Sam had committed a crime. He can barely restrain himself from panicking in his fear that he will be accused of killing Bill. The sheriff is investigating the case. He wants answers from Sam, and comes down on him very hard when he doesn’t get them.
Joe is more subdued. He is clearly saddened by the death of a man he worked for and admired, but is quiet and attentive to others. When Sam insistently tries to get him to figure out what the police will be able to reconstruct from the place where Bill’s body washed up on shore, Joe very patiently explains about tide tables and the like. When the sheriff comes upon Sam and Joe and suggests Joe go away, he complies in good humor.
David is absolutely cool. He is trying to figure out where Bill’s body first went into the water in hopes that he will be able to prove that his father, whom he hates, murdered Bill. When Carolyn demands that he adopt an attitude consistent with hers, he flatly refuses. She persists, he delivers one incisive comeback after another.
Carolyn bemoans their fate, living in the walls of the mansion at Collinwood. David says he likes it, that it’s fun to live in a house with real ghosts. “Sure, it’s scary sometimes,” he allows, but the ghosts are his friends. Maybe Mr Malloy will be one of them. Carolyn is exasperated by this reply, but can’t bring herself to deny that the house is haunted.
Joe shows up at the big dark house on the hill to see Carolyn. David picks up where Sam left off, and questions Joe about how to read a tide table. Unlike Sam, David has a set of tide tables with him, and the two of them sit down and start doing calculations. Carolyn reacts to this with abhorrence. Joe leaves with Carolyn, but not before encouraging David to stick with his calculations. He tells the boy to ask his father for help, a suggestion to which David reacts sharply.
After Joe and Carolyn have left the house, a knock comes at the door. David exclaims joyously, “Joe, I knew you’d come back!” When he opens the door, though, it isn’t Joe- it’s the sheriff. David resumes his perfect serenity and asks, “Have you come to see my father?” When he says yes, David goes to fetch him, a blissful smile on his face.
Sheriff Patterson is at the mansion on the estate of Collinwood, talking with reclusive matriarch Liz and Liz’ ne’er-do-well brother Roger about the mysterious death of plant manager Bill Malloy. Liz listens as Roger answers the sheriff’s questions, seeming every bit the trusting sister. The minute the sheriff leaves, she turns to Roger and asks in an icy voice “How much of what you told him was the truth?” She confronts Roger with the differences between what he told the sheriff and what he’d told her. Roger is upset, and finally tells Liz she has to trust him. Liz looks sadly off into the distance and says that yes, she does have to do that.
“Yes, I do have to do that.”
I’m always interested to watch actors play characters who are themselves acting. When she’s concealing her doubts about Roger from the sheriff, Joan Bennett has her first chance to show us what sort of actress she thinks Liz would be. She’s a skillful one- she does have some subtle reactions to Roger’s evolving story when the sheriff isn’t looking at her, but her abrupt, contemptuous turn to Roger is the removal of a convincing enough mask that it shocks the audience. And her statement that she does have to believe Roger, coming after she has made it clear that she knows he has been lying to her and is likely to go on lying, is a performer’s resolution to go on playing a part, however unpromising that part may be.
Intercut with the scenes at Collinwood are scenes in the restaurant at the Collinsport Inn. Waitress Maggie Evans is serving one customer, her father Sam Evans. Sam wants Maggie to return a sealed envelope he gave her some time ago. He won’t tell her what’s in the envelope, why he wants it back, or why he gave it to her in the first place. She won’t give it back to him without answers to at least some of those questions.
Francis Swann is the writer credited with today’s script, but the contrast between the scenes at Collinwood and those in the restaurant form a diptych of the sort Art Wallace specialized in. Sister Liz demands information which brother Roger won’t give; Roger is a fountain of lies and evasions, and finally tells Liz that her idea of family loyalty requires her to behave as if he were telling her the truth. Daughter Maggie demands information which father Sam won’t give; Sam mutters little lies, stonewalls, and begs her to forget about the whole thing.
The two family pairs are both unhappy, but in different ways. The Evanses aren’t having any fun, but you can imagine them reopening communication and re-establishing trust, if only Sam can get off the hook in this crisis. Liz and Roger don’t seem ever to have trusted each other, but they are so much fun to watch that you can see how they might choose to go on fighting these battles indefinitely.
No one has told Maggie or Sam or anyone else that Bill Malloy is dead. When Maggie wonders if Bill might be able to help Sam with whatever troubles he’s refusing to tell her about, Sam replies that yes, Bill might be the only one who can help him. Dashing action hero Burke Devlin telephones the restaurant to order delivery of a meal; he asks if Maggie has seen Bill. Maggie tells Sam that everyone has been asking about Bill.
The sheriff comes in to the restaurant. Roger had told him that he was with Sam and Burke the night Bill disappeared, and the sheriff mentioned then that he’d be talking to both of them. The sheriff reacts strongly when he sees Sam, and tries to strike up a friendly conversation with him. Before the sheriff can elicit much of a response, he gets a telephone call. He rushes out of the restaurant as soon as he’s hung up. On his way out, he casually mentions to the Evanses that it was the Coast Guard calling to say they’d found Bill Malloy’s corpse. They are shocked at the news.
The sheriff doesn’t seem to be watching Sam’s reaction to the news about Bill’s death. That’s odd- while viewers know that Roger is the show’s principal villain at this point, Sam seems to be an equally likely suspect in the case of Bill Malloy. Casually mentioning such a terrible piece of news would seem to be a tactic that a policeman might use to gauge a suspect’s emotional state. Unless it is a tactic of some kind, it would be a spectacularly unprofessional way of announcing to the people of a small town that a highly respected local man was dead. Up to that point the sheriff hadn’t been presented as a blundering fool, so I wonder what they were saying by having him do that.
Miscellaneous:
Marc Masse’s blog posts about the first 54 episodes of Dark Shadows include promotions for Kathryn Leigh Scott’s novel Dark Passages. His post for episode 55 is the first that doesn’t include one of those, and is also the first in which he refers to Miss Scott as “the actress who plays Maggie Evans.” As in “scenes like this emphasize the great and natural chemistry for the father-daughter relationship being portrayed as embodied by David Ford and the actress who plays Maggie Evans.” I wonder if Miss Scott was alienated by “The Dan and Lela Show,” the dialogues between executive producer Dan Curtis and director Lela Swift that he claims to have heard in the background of the episodes. Many Dark Shadows fans were indignant about these, and I’m sure they let Miss Scott know about their objections. Perhaps she pulled her ads from Masse’s blog, and he couldn’t bring himself to mention her name afterward.
Sam Evans is starting to regret writing his Get Into Jail Card that confesses his role in Devlin’s railroading. He tries to get Maggie to return it to him, but she’s not stupid. Maggie is probably a better avatar for the show’s audience than Victoria, and if there’s anything we like more than a mystery, it’s learning the solution to said mystery. While there’s genuine concern for her father’s latest alcohol, caffeine and tobacco binge, she suspects she’s in possession of the final few pages in the mystery novel the whole town is talking about. And she’s running out of reasons not to take a peek and see how things end.
Sam is doing his usual “I’m not looking suspicious by trying not to look suspicious, am I?” thing at the restaurant when Patterson arrives. There’s something of a performer in Sam, who brings his sketchiest A-game when he sees the sheriff, and gets twitchier than Peter Lorre with a pocket full of letters of transit. Luckily for him, the sheriff has other things on his mind. The Coast Guard has found Bill Malloy. Dead.
I’m beginning to lose track of how often we’ve been given the news that Malloy is dead.
At the end of yesterday’s episode, dour caretaker Matthew admitted to reclusive matriarch Liz that he had found a drowned man on the beach, that the man was missing plant manager Bill Malloy, and that he had pushed the body out to sea and watched it float away. Liz then called the sheriff.
As today’s episode opens, Liz’ ne-er-do-well brother Roger doesn’t know about Matthew’s confession. We see him in his office, countermanding orders Bill Malloy had given and acting like he has Malloy’s job. On his blog Dark Shadows from the Beginning, Marc Masse interprets this as an indication of guilty knowledge on Roger’s part:
Roger has evidently just implemented a new system that has effectively replaced Bill Malloy’s previous methods for operations at the plant. This indicates that Roger knows for certain that Malloy will not be returning as plant manager, which enshrouds him with an additional layer of suspicion given how as of the close of episode 53 only two people knew for certain that Bill Malloy was in fact dead: Matthew Morgan and Elizabeth Stoddard, and as of today’s episode the sheriff. Roger will be informed of Malloy’s demise later on that day when his sister calls him away from the office to have him return to Collinwood, and Roger will feign surprise upon hearing the news, but it’s evident from his phone conversation above that he was somehow already aware of Malloy’s fate.
That’s a possible interpretation, and I certainly thought of it the first time I saw the episode. On the other hand, Malloy has been missing for more than a day, and was last seen drinking in a bar. So even if he were to walk in the door in prime physical condition at this very moment, he would be in a poor position to defend himself in workplace politics. Roger could easily claim that he was simply moving to fill a vacuum. The show is keeping Roger viable as a suspect, but is not committing itself to the idea that he is the guilty party.
Whatever Roger knows about the situation, dashing action hero Burke knows less. But Burke seems to think of himself as very knowledgeable. He storms into Roger’s office and confronts him with the fact that Malloy was trying to prove that Roger, not Burke, was responsible for the killing that sent Burke to prison years before. Burke makes many accusations against Roger, some of which the audience knows to be true, but none of which he is yet in a position to prove.
The scenes in Roger’s office are intercut with scenes in the drawing room in the mansion at Collinwood. There, the sheriff is talking with Liz and Matthew about Matthew’s confession. Matthew asks the sheriff if he will be arrested now. To which the sheriff replies, “I can’t think of a proper charge.” He jokes about “burial without a license,” then goes on to warn Matthew that he has laid himself open to suspicion.
This is a moment when you can tell you’re watching a show made in 1966. Seven years later, coverage of investigations into the Watergate affair would give the American public an intensive eighteen-month tutorial in criminal law concerning obstruction of justice and related offenses. Ever since that time, residents of the USA have known that you are risking jail any time you make things difficult for the police. Prior to that, however, this was not well-known even among lawyers who practiced in areas other than criminal law.
Watergate itself illustrated this. Several of the major figures in that matter were lawyers, and many of them, including Richard Nixon himself, genuinely did not know that it was an offense for a person who had not been involved in a crime to cover that crime up. You can hear Nixon on the White House tapes telling his legal aide John Dean that because Dean didn’t know about the Watergate burglary in advance, the things Dean had done to hinder the investigation of the burglary can’t possibly put him in danger of prosecution. In his memoirs, Dean admits his own ignorance of the relevant law, confessing that he first read the federal statutes on obstruction of justice not when he was in law school, not when he was studying for the bar, not when he was a staffer for a commission tasked with rewriting the federal criminal code, but in his office at the White House, after he’d been running the Watergate cover-up for nine months. He reports in that same book that several other White House staffers who were lawyers shared his ignorance. Many of them would go on to confirm this aspect of his account.
In light of the legal education that Watergate provided the people of the USA, the sheriff sounds like an idiot. That same education ruined other old shows. Perry Mason, for example- ridiculous as it is that every episode ends with the guilty party jumping up in court and shouting “I did it!,” if you’re into the story you feel enough poetic justice in those endings that they don’t really bother you. But Mason himself can hardly make it through five minutes without committing every crime with which Haldeman, Ehrlichman, Mitchell, and Dean would be charged and a few more besides. Perry Mason broadcast its final episode in May of 1966, so that show, not the Watergate news, was the law school the original audience had attended.
Miscellaneous:
The episode opens with footage of Louis Edmonds walking around outdoors on a waterfront. They play some nice sound effects of sea-birds over it.
The sheriff we see in this episode is Sheriff Patterson, the first of that name. He is played by Dana Elcar, a fine actor who would be ubiquitous on American television and cinema screens in the 1980s. If we’re heading into a major story arc dominated by a mystery story, it’s a relief to know that the policeman role will be in such trustworthy hands. The part will be re-cast many times in the years to come, and never again as well. Then again, none of the subsequent Sheriffs Patterson will be as important as is this first.
Since there is a good deal of overlap between fans of Star Trek and fans of Dark Shadows, I might mention that this was the episode that aired on the day Star Trek premiered.
There was a great deal of Anglophilia involved in the making of Dark Shadows: the mid-Atlantic accents, the plots lifted from English literature, etc. So it may not be a coincidence that a dark-haired, small-chinned matriarch named Elizabeth presides over the family at the center of it. Indeed, Joan Bennett looked enough like the northern European royals that when they wanted to cast an actress who resembled her closely enough to set the audience wondering how their characters were related, they settled on the daughter of a Danish count. So I might also mention that I am writing this on the day Britain’s Elizabeth II died.
There are two big flubs. At one point when they’re about to cut from the drawing room back to the office, we hear a loud noise and some garbled voices in the background. My wife, Mrs Acilius, wondered if this was Josette Collins trying to make herself heard.
At the very end of the episode, as announcer Bob Lloyd is intoning “Dark Shadows is a Dan Curtis production,” a figure walks in front of the camera. You can just see the top of his head. The Dark Shadows wiki refers to the figure as “a crew member.” Marc Masse says it’s probably Mitch Ryan. John and Christine Scoleri speculate on their blog Dark Shadows Before I Die that it might be Dan Curtis himself. To me it looks like more the hairdo Thayer David is wearing as Matthew Morgan than like either Ryan’s hairdo as Burke or Dan Curtis’ hair- there seems to be some grey in it, and it looks to be more matted than either wavy or curly.
Roger is trying to keep his hands busy today. Our first look at his office focuses on his dart board, and he spends a great deal of time handling the darts.
Bill, whom we just saw in the Blue Whale giving Burke a stern talking-to, comes to Roger’s office to continue his stern talking-to concert tour. He drives Carolyn away. Roger stops handling the pen playfully and handles the darts menacingly.
Later, Roger sees Carolyn at home. He finds out she had lunch with Burke and that Burke gave her his pen. He explodes at this and demands that she give up the pen. After a phone call from Bill (stern talking-to #3) and a commercial break, Roger simmers down. He apologizes and calls Carolyn “Kitten” again. She admits that she’s probably just hanging around Burke out of curiosity. She also tells Roger about the evidence that Burke is trying to put the family out of business. Roger takes this news calmly- after all, the Collinses’ cannery, fishing fleet, and other financial interests can hardly compare to the significance of who gets to touch Burke’s pen.
Roger’s obsession with where Burke Devlin’s pen is will become the show’s obsession for a couple of months. Anyone unsure whether there is some symbolic significance to this might have a look at the books, plays, and movies the makers of Dark Shadows and other intellectually ambitious New Yorkers were likely to be paying attention to in the summer of 1966. Maybe we can learn something about the ideas that were in the air if we look up the some famous thinkers on Google NGrams:
Looks like Marx was a biggie in those days- maybe Roger’s obsession with where Burke’s pen is illustrates the Marxist concept of commodity fetishism. That might also explain Roger’s relative disregard for the family’s capital holdings- he’s so caught up in the fantasy of value as something inherent in a physical object that he has lost sight of the actual source of his wealth.
Darwin was on people’s minds as well. Perhaps Roger’s fixation on Burke’s pen is the result of his genealogy- maybe the Collinses have been bred to their little niche for so many generations that they have emerged as a new species, one which does not have the same survival strategies as other humans and so does not share values and concepts which we would understand.
And there’s Einstein, also a popular preoccupation among people who aspired to advanced learning back then. One of Einstein’s most famous ideas was that time passes at different rates for different observers depending on how fast those observers are moving through space. There will be twenty or more episodes of Dark Shadows that focus largely or entirely on the question of where Burke’s pen is, and as we move through that narrative space there will be many occasions when it seems that time itself is about to grind to a halt. Could be that, I guess!
That leaves Freud. Hmm, looks like Dark Shadows was written and acted chiefly by people from Broadway, and that Freudianism was a major inspiration on Broadway in the 1950s, 60s, and 70s. I suppose we’ll have to figure out what Freud would have made of a fascination with where Burke’s pen is. Then maybe we’ll have some idea what’s really going on with Roger.
In these early months of the show, the Collinses are in danger of running out of money and losing their position. In yesterday’s episode, we learned that Roger blew his half of the inheritance and Liz drew heavily on hers to keep the business in the family; in this one, we learn that the house is a moldering ruin and the rest of the family’s assets are leveraged to the hilt. Burke plans to take his revenge in part by buying up their debts and making himself their master, which it appears he is in a position to do.
Burke and his investigator are at a table in a restaurant in Bangor when they discuss these matters. Carolyn has followed Burke to the restaurant. Burke spots her, invites her to his table, and sends the investigator away. Burke flirts with Carolyn as he makes sure she didn’t overhear any important information. He makes a show of his elaborately filigreed pen. When she admires it, he makes a gift of it to her.
The last time Carolyn made her way to Burke’s luncheon table, she played with her ring, called his attention to it, and left it behind as a deliberate stratagem to prompt him to call her. She seemed altogether unconcerned with the fact that the ring was a gift from Burke’s sworn enemy, her Uncle Roger, even after Burke indicated that he found it significant; and went ahead to keep an appointment to get the ring back from Burke even after Burke had given it to Roger and Roger had returned it to her. This strange obliviousness in all things having to do with Roger recalls the equally strange blitheness with which Carolyn told Vicki about her crush on her Uncle Roger when they first met “he sends me, he really does!”)
This time the object that passes from one to the other is another distinctive bit of metal associated with some important relationships. Burke tells Carolyn how few pens there are like it in the world, that he had them made to distinguish their bearers as key people in his life. When he makes the pen a gift to Carolyn, he implies that what he is giving her is not just a thing, but a new connection between them.
I made some remarks about these scenes in a comment on John and Christine Scoleri’s Dark Shadows Before I Die:
Carolyn comes to Burke’s table at one restaurant and leaves a special ring with him; she comes to his table at another restaurant and he gives a special pen to her. Even if the mid-60s weren’t the Age of Freud among intellectually ambitious people in the USA, the flirty tone of the two encounters would make it difficult not to see these tokens as body part symbols.
…As for the pen, it is going to become a more and more unmistakable phallic symbol over the next several weeks, leading us to wonder what the show is trying to tell us about the relationship between Burke and Roger and what was really going on between them before that accident ten years ago.
There’s also a scene between Sam and Liz. Yesterday’s episode ended with a big cliffhanger when Liz opened the doors and saw Sam waiting outside, suggesting that he is going to unburden himself of the secret he and Roger share. In true soap opera fashion, once the cliffhanger has brought the audience back to watch the next episode it has served its purpose. It is then to be got out of the way as quickly and anticlimactically as possible.
Today’s anticlimax sheds an unexpected light on Sam’s position. Sam’s extreme reluctance to tell his secret grew out of his assumption that whenever and wherever he started talking, he would find a hyper-attentive audience who would listen to his his every word and lose no time putting them into far-reaching and disastrous action. What he actually meets in Liz is personal dislike for him and impatience with anything he might want to say. Once Sam starts to talk about Roger, she assumes he has come to blackmail her with some sordid information about her no-good brother, and she makes it clear she will not be having it. Joe comes to the house, Liz mentions Bill, and Sam crumbles, his secret untold and unwanted. If the audience is expecting Sam to murdered, this result will add an extra touch of bathos to his plight- a man carrying a secret that spells his doom, but that does not attract the attention of a suitable listener.
Ray Stewart, later to gain a place in history as part of the gay couple on Barney Miller, appears in this episode as a featured extra. He’s the head-waiter in the restaurant in Bangor. Both the Dark Shadows wiki and his imdb page list his role as “Customer,” but here you see him telling the server which table to go to first:
Ray Stewart is still alive, maybe he should complain about his role being mislabeled. In all seriousness, I’d like to see him and other onetime background players on one of those panel discussions they used to have at Dark Shadows cons and now have on Zoom. I’d like to know what it was like being an extra on the show. And of course some of them went on to become big names.
Dark Shadows Commentary 