The Man Inside

La Bohèmoth; or

We Should Never Make Unkind Remarks About Anyone

(a recap by Will Kaiser)

Title: The Man Inside

Airdate: October 2, 1978

Written and directed by Michael Landon

SUMMARY IN A NUTSHELL: A new classmate of Laura’s is ashamed of her father because of his size.

RECAP: Oh boy, this one I have not seen in a while. 

I’ll admit, when I started tracking this show’s fat jokes back in Season One, I thought by Season Five we’d have a higher total than we actually do. 

In the past, I’d noticed that if I picked a random Little House episode, chances were good there’d be a fat joke in it. The fat-haters are usually villains in the stories; yet something tells me Landon, famous for his coarse and often cruel humor, liked coming up with fat jokes too.

Well, as of today we’re only up to #18, or about four per season, which is not such a very great number I suppose. (We’ll likely be off the charts by the end of this episode, but we’ll see.) 

As for me, at times I’ve also been accused of having a mean streak; but I deplore this in myself (I used to be much worse) and am a fat-positive person generally. We shall see if this story is as well.

We begin with the Season Four theme again. (Was the new arrangement for “‘As Long as We’re Together’” just a one-off?) 

And our opening shot gives us a closeup of a bowl of . . . I don’t know what. Nuts? 

DAGNY: No – they’re beads. Can’t you tell? They’re rose beads, like for a rosary.

WILL: I thought they were, like, acorns, or maybe candies.

DAGNY: Candies? Yeah, they’re literally jawbreakers.

Next to the bowl are a switchblade knife and wood shavings, so we can assume we’ve stumbled onto the scene of a whittling incident here.

To date, there hasn’t been as much whittling on the show as you might expect. 

There’s been some hand-carved signage – Charles carved his mother’s grave marker, which he then wept over in a thunderstorm.

Solomon Henry made a “Bless This School” plaque for Miss Beadle. (Which we never saw again. Did she keep it in her apartment? Why?) 

Jason R. the scientist carved his and Laura’s initials into the “sweetheart tree,” though that relationship wound up going nowhere. 

That fool Johnny Johnson did the same for Mary, and they weren’t even dating at the time.

In “The Lord is My Shepherd,” Jonathan the mysterious mountain man/angel/ghost/whatever (Ernest Borgnine) carved Laura’s name into a cross which ultimately was the key to her rescue.

And of course Charles carved the mantelpieces in both the Kansas and Minnesota “little houses.” 

Charles has carved furniture on a number of occasions. I think we can assume he carved the headboard for his and Caroline’s . . . marital bed.

Also in “The Lord is My Shepherd,” he made a cupboard for a Mrs. Johnson (Johnny’s aunt?) and of course poor Freddie’s bassinet.

He made Doc Baker a hatstand for his office once, leading to this memorable exchange:

Again, I wouldn’t say that’s true whittling. 

Neither is Ma carving up her leg.

I can only find one or perhaps two instances of proper whittling – that is, carving a small piece of wood into a shape by shaving it down with a knife – so far in the series. 

In “Shepherd,” Pa mentions that he carved a wooden dollee for Carrie. 

And in “In the Big Inning,” Carrie plays with a little wooden toy horsey and cart I think we can presume Pa whittled, though it’s not explicitly stated he did.

I know that’s a long ramble in the raspberries for literally the first shot of an episode; we might have a few more besides before we’re through today.

Anyways, the camera pans to a mirror, then turns to crawl from the foot of a bed to an enormous hump in the bedclothes – the belly of a man.

This of course is reminiscent of the time when Landon had the camera creep up to Joe Kagan’s enormous, um, package. 

This man, whose head is round like his belly, has a mustache, and he looks like he might be in his thirties?

He wakes up, gets dressed, and crosses to an adjacent room, which also has a bed as well as a table and chairs. This seems to be a suite of rooms in a boarding house, or something.

A slender, pretty woman of about the same age who has a slightly severe look about her is seated at the table. 

The woman greets the man warmly and says she went out and bought them coffees. It’s kind of nice to think of people doing that in the olden days as well, isn’t it?

But the man implies she only did it because if he went himself he’d pig out on Caroline Ingalls’s biscuits. (So the Dakota restaurant does takeout as well?)

His wife snaps at him for his attitude, but he says it was just a joke, and she apologizes. 

Clearly this is a couple on the brink.

The man asks where “Amelia” is, and his wife says she’s gone to the (Livery) School already. 

The man is confused that their daughter left so early, and says he’d hoped to walk her to school himself.

He says he’s also mystified that Amelia never has friends over. 

The wife says they’ve only been in Winoka two weeks and the kid’s just starting school today so that’s not really surprising. (I agree, for whatever that’s worth.)

The man says, “Well, the coffee was good, but I’m so full I couldn’t swallow another drop.” 

It’s a strange thing for anyone who hasn’t had breakfast to say, and indeed, we see him hide a look of hunger as he stares sadly at a bowl of apples. (They’re Red Delicious, so it’s no surprise he looks depressed at the prospect of eating one.)

He grabs one nevertheless, then tells his wife he’s lost a little weight.

She’s encouraging, but says, “You know, you can’t expect it just to happen.”

He interrupts her and says he’s been eating less food “than it takes to keep a bird alive” and has only made the tiniest progress.

Then we get the following exchange:

MAN: What happens to a person?

WOMAN: I don’t know. The doctor doesn’t know. But it happened. So you just – 

MAN: So you just make the best of it, right?

WOMAN: Right.

She kisses him, and after they say I love you and reveal their names are John and Bess Bevins, John goes to work.

It’s a little obscure, but I think the suggestion is John has developed a weight problem late in life, for mysterious reasons, and is unable to get rid of it through diet and exercise. (In other words, it’s not his fault he’s fat; but I’ll hold my thoughts on that for now.)

Mr. Bevins crosses the thoroughfare, and he’s immediately accosted by two men who address him by name.

The first man, a skinny guy like a scarecrow in somebody’s garden whom Bevins calls “Smitty,” tells him a fat joke (#19), whilst the second man, Herbert Diamond, listens and laughs.

The shot here is very unusual, as it’s from Bevins’s point of view, with “Smitty” and Herbert leaning in towards the camera like grotesques from a Fellini film.

The joke, which involves a horse feeling undercompensated after pulling a fat lady in a cart, is not a very good one. 

It’s hard to even focus on what’s being said, the POV shot is so weird; and it doesn’t help that “Smitty” is doing an exaggerated Cockney accent. 

This gargoyle is played by a Hap Lawrence (yes, Hap), whose resume is quite interesting.

He was in Ken Russell’s Altered States – a strange Jekyll & Hyde story that’s a favorite of mine – and on some interesting TV shows, including the G.I. Joe cartoon series and Out of This World, a sitcom about a half-alien girl which I haven’t thought about in 35 years.

Lawrence was on Highway to Heaven and Whiz Kids, of course.

He’s still acting today, and the past few years he’s created something of a cottage industry playing Lyndon B. Johnson – most recently in Oppenheimer!

As for Herbert Diamond, by my count this is his fourteenth appearance on the show, but the actor’s identity is a mystery to me. (Anybody else know?)

He’s not even credited in “The Runaway Caboose,” in which he gets several lines of dialogue with his father, rail tycoon J.W. Diamond.

Well, these two weirdos laugh like hyenas. Mr. Bevins laughs too – but not so heartily.

As Bevins continues on his way to work, Smitty calls after him, “When you get to that blind school, be sure and go through the door sideways!” (#20)

“I don’t have any sideways!” Bevins replies amiably (#21).

This is a famous quip from G.K. Chesterton, the English writer, Catholic philosopher and wit, and is actually funnier in its original context.

Chesterton, a very fat man indeed, once apparently got stuck in his own car. His chauffeur said to him, “Perhaps try getting out sideways, sir?” to which he replied, “I have no sideways.”

Chesterton was a brilliant and very funny writer if you’ve never read him. He wrote the Father Brown mystery stories, which were adapted into TV series twice. 

The first one aired in the 1970s and was very good. 

The second one is still on TV today, and is a travesty.

Michael Landon wasn’t the only person to steal this joke, though. The great (and large-ish) operatic soprano Jessye Norman, whom I once saw coming out of a restaurant in London, was apparently fond of it as well.

(I saw her sing once, too. A concert to remember!)

Anyways, Mr. Bevins arrives at his workplace, the (Blind) School, where Schoolmarm Mary is chiding Thomas the Blond Freckle-Faced Moppet for not paying attention.

Some of the children are weaving on looms, which a brief conversation reveals Mr. Bevins made for the school himself.

Bevins is the school handyman/caretaker, obviously a familiar figure to the kids. Sue Goodspeed calls him over to show him what she’s weaving.

Sue says she’s making a scarf – for him!

Mr. Bevins is quite touched. He tells Mary he plans to make more looms for the kids, then he adds “Have a nice day!” 1970s-ishly and gets to work.

Meanwhile, at the (Livery) School, a blacksmith who might be Indigenous clangs away at a horseshoe as Alice Garvey gets ready to start class.

Alice is talking to a blonde-haired girl at the front of the room whilst Laura tells some hilarious anecdote, complete with Edwardsian hand gestures, to Albert and Andrew.

Carrie, Melonhead, and some Nondescript Helens are also there.

Alice introduces the blonde girl, who looks sort of like a cross between Alison Arngrim and Daryl Hannah, as Amelia Bevins. (Our own Amelia is out of town this weekend, so there should be no confusion which Amelia I’m referring to from here on out.)

Alice asks Andy to start by reading “Lesson Fifty-Five” aloud from his McGuffey, and I was pleased to find out not only is it a real excerpt from the book, it’s actually Lesson 55!

Laura chitchats with Amelia through the whole reading – until Mrs. G calls her on it, that is.

(Question: Where did this school get the books from? Did the Bead give Mary all her McGuffeys when she left town or something?)

After school, the Ing-Gals, Albert, and Andy walk across the street with Amelia.

Suddenly Albert spots Mr. Bevins working in front of the (Blind) School, and says, “Hey, there he is!” to his friends.

All of them but Amelia start giggling, and Laura says, “Did you ever see anything so fat!” (#22)

Andrew Garvey says looking at the guy has inspired him to write a school essay on Moby-Dick. (#23)

Moby-Dick, Herman Melville’s famous novel about an obsessed sea captain pursuing a monstrous whale (sort of the Nineteenth-Century version of Dr. Loomis and Michael Myers), was published in 1851. 

Hard but still worth reading, Moby-Dick was inspired by the story of the American whaling ship the Essex, which was rammed and sunk by a sperm whale in 1820. (If anything, the real story is even more exciting and horrifying than Moby-Dick is.)

While the book was published thirty years before the setting of this episode, it’s unlikely Andy would have heard of it. It was a flop when it came out, and didn’t really start to develop its modern reputation as a classic until the 1920s. (Plus, it’s hardly a book for kids.)

“Thar she blows!” Laura says. (#24)

Upset, Amelia runs off.

Adam comes out of the (Blind) School, and Laura says she and Carrie will accompany him to the store.

Before they leave, Mr. Bevins says he wants to work on the school’s leaky roof, and Adam introduces him to Laura and Carrie.

WILL: Carrie should ask him if he’s Moby-Dick.

Realizing he’s Amelia’s father, Laura looks horrified.

All unawares, Mr. Bevins couldn’t be pleasanter to the Ing-Gals.

Filled with shame, Laura makes up an excuse not to go on the shopping expedition with Adam. 

WILL: That takes some crust, doesn’t it, leaving a blind person to navigate the Winoka streets alone, because you’re ashamed of your fat jokes.

DAGNY: Oh, he’ll be just fine. He doesn’t need her. They were just going together for fun.

Back at the Dakota, Laura rushes to Ma in the kitchen. She bursts into tears and confesses all. (Melissa Gilbert is good in this one.)

She weeps, saying she had no idea the fat guy was Amelia’s father, and Ma says, “The point isn’t whether you knew or not, is it. The point is that we should never make unkind remarks about anyone.”

WILL/DAGNY: . . .

Dags and I both thought Ma handles this well. She’s not angry, and knowing Laura’s already paying an emotional price for her behavior, she doesn’t lecture; but she does use the moment to educate, and she immediately tells Laura to come up with an action plan for righting the wrong herself.

Laura accepts this quite maturely.

Meanwhile, smiling John Bevins returns home – but he hears his wife and daughter having a tearful conversation in the next room.

Amelia tells her mother what happened, and Mrs. Bevins says people are just assholes sometimes.

As Mr. Bevins listens from behind the door, Amelia says, “On the farm, we were away! The children didn’t see him!”

Strangely, Mrs. Bevins replies not by telling her daughter the bullies can go fuck themselves, or by talking about “what really matters in this life.”

Rather, she says “Your father . . . tries his best” and says Amelia’s friends will eventually “get used to” how fat he is.

ALEXANDER: This is brutal.

“I don’t want them to know he’s my father!” Amelia sobs; at which point Mr. Bevins withdraws.

DAGNY: Was she doing a Judy Garland impression there?

This young impressionist is Julie Anne Haddock, best known as one of the original cast members from The Facts of Life; you know, the ones who all got fired before the second season so they could concentrate on the four good ones.

DAGNY: Oh, I remember her, I think. I think she was a funny one.

I shouldn’t say “good ones,” as if the Season One cast wasn’t good. Molly Ringwald was on it, if I recall.

Having overheard this devastating conversation, Bevins stands at the window in the hallway. Whether he’s thinking about killing himself is a matter of conjecture; but we thought he was. (David’s music is excellent.)

Then Mr. B goes back in, cheerfully announcing he’s home and pretending not to know whether Amelia’s there.

He gives her a Willie Oleson-style candied apple as a first-day-of-school gift.

Mr. Bevins then surprises them by announcing he’s been offered a well-paying job on the railroad. He says they’ll be able to save money, because with him gone, they’ll only have to rent a single room instead of a double.

But he has to leave immediately, he says.

Mrs. Bevins is surprised and upset by this news.

Amelia looks on rather coldly, then exits.

Mr. Bevins is played by Cliff Emmich, who appeared on The Odd Couple, Mary Hartman Mary Hartman, Happy Days, Fantasy Island, CHiPs, Trapper John, M.D., Days of Our Lives, and Baywatch, often playing characters with names like “Fat Man” and “Fat Stranger.”

He was also in the classic exploitation film Invasion of the Bee Girls.

And he was in 1981’s Halloween II, my personal favorite of the Halloween sequels. (It’s most people’s, I think.)

Emmich is actually the FOURTH Little House cast member who was in that film (so far!), which is set in Haddonfield Memorial Hospital the same night as the events of the original John Carpenter classic.

First, Kyle Richards, our own Alicia Sanderson-Edwards, plays Lindsey Wallace, the girl Jamie Lee Curtis was babysitting in the original Halloween. 

In Halloween II, she appears in a flashback to the first film. Little Lindsey is rescued by Curtis and flees the house screaming. She lives.

Ford Rainey, everyone’s favorite bad-news optometrist Dr. Burke, was Dr. Mixter, a drunken ER doc who tries to sober up quickly when Michael Myers’s victims start arriving at the hospital.

Mixter does an okay job with the patients, but ends up being murdered offscreen with a hypodermic syringe through the eye.

Adam Gunn, who this season has a recurring role as Jeb “Junior” Standish, and who last season played Boss Hogg’s obnoxious son Harold Watson in “‘I Remember, I Remember,’” has a non-speaking but vital role, playing the young Michael Myers himself in a flashback! 

We just see him sitting creepily in the Smith’s Grove Warren County Sanitarium, but it’s a memorable scene.

And finally we have today’s star, Cliff Emmich, who plays Haddonfield Memorial’s sole security guard Mr. Garrett. 

Garrett seems a decent enough chap, but he’s not the greatest security guard.

First, he doesn’t see Michael Myers coming into the hospital on CCTV because he’s reading a magazine. 

Then he leaves poor Nurse Janet (of “Janet, get me some more coffee” fame) alone, even though she’s frightened and begs him not to go.

He does give her a walkie-talkie, but doesn’t bother instructing her how to use it.

He’s dispatched by Myers early on in the film (with the claw end of a hammer – owie) after first getting jump-scared by a cat.

That’s about it for him in the film, but apparently in the novelization we learn a lot more about Mr. Garrett, including his first and middle names (Bernard Ephraim), hometown (Raleigh, North Carolina), birthdate (July 8, 1927), parents’ names (Andrew and Kathryn), military service record (he was in the armed forces during the Korean War), Social Security Number (157-38-1839!), and ex-wife’s name (Lynn Irvine). 

Never read it myself, but it’s by Dennis Etchison (using the pen name “Jack Martin”). Etchison was a horror writer who wrote some very good short stories and collaborated with Stephen King on his excellent nonfiction survey of the genre Danse Macabre, so maybe Halloween II: The Novelization is worth a look. (Only $100 at Amazon – paperback.)

We now return to our scheduled programming.

That night, Bess Bevins sees John off from the rooming house porch as ragtime rocks on the soundtrack.

They have a rather depressing conversation where John basically apologizes for having gotten fat since their wedding.

Bess says, “You’ve tried – nobody could have tried harder.”

She adds that she “fell in love with the man inside, not the man outside.”

Bess Bevins is Katherine Woodville, a British actress who was on The Avengers (in fact she was married to Patrick Macnee for a time), Star Trek, Mannix, the Radames Pera vehicle Kung Fu, The Rockford Files, Days of Our Lives, Wonder Woman, and Eight is Enough.

Anyways, John and Bess kiss and say goodbye.

DAGNY: Is he padded as well as being tubby himself?

WILL: I don’t know. It never occurred to me. He was tubby in Halloween II.

DAGNY: I think he is.

And of course, John’s story about the rail job was a lie. Instead, he heads to the (Blind) School to sleep.

But he’s immediately arrested by Mr. Ames – a better security guard than Mr. Garrett ever was.

Mr. Bevins tells Mr. Ames he’s decided to give up his rented room so he can send money to his family “back east.” He says he thought he might just stay at the school if it’s all right with the administration.

Mr. Ames says naturally that’s fine.

The next day, Nondescript Helen and Melonhead arrive at the (Livery) School, followed by Amelia Bevins.

DAGNY: This is just like Lizzie Borden’s story.

WILL: What? How?

DAGNY: She walked to school too.

(Dags and Roman just made a trip to Rhode Island, where they stayed overnight in the Lizzie Borden house.)

Laura appears, and immediately apologizes to Amelia for insulting her father.

But Amelia says her father “works for the railroad. . . . He doesn’t even live here.”

Then, with Papa Bevins finally erased from her life, Amelia invites Laura over to hang after school.

Back at the (Blind) School, Mr. Bevins is sanding the bannister, I think, as the schoolkids pass in the hall.

Martinet Mary barks, “I gave you an extra fifteen minutes for lunch, so I expect you to get right to work!”

Mr. Bevins calls Mary over and gives her a string of the rose beads we saw in the first scene. 

WILL [as MARY]: “I’m taken.”

Mr. B tells her she looks pretty wearing it, but he manages to make it sound only slightly creepy.

WILL: This is weird, isn’t it? Why would he give that to her?

DAGNY: It is weird.

Then he says he made one for Sue, too, and asks Mary to give it to her for him. “She thinks the world of you,” Mary says.

DAGNY: Ah, well, that’s it. They’re his surrogate family. Sue is the daughter he wishes he had, who would never judge him by his appearance. 

WILL: And Mary’s a stand-in for the mom, but it’s not a sexual thing?

DAGNY: That’s right. It’s just the unconditional love thing. It’s quite sad.

Mary goes into the classroom and says, “All right, our tummies are full, let’s see if our heads are!” and everybody whoops with laughter. Well, we know this is a wisecrack-loving bunch.

Mr. Bevins follows Mary in, smiling at the students as she assigns them essays to write, with the older kids having more difficult assignments.

Thomas the Blond Freckle-Faced Moppet says he’s too short to be an “older kid.” “So is General Tom Thumb, and he’s forty-two years old,” Mary says.

“General Tom Thumb” was the stage name of Charles Sherwood Stratton, a little person who was an actor, circus performer, and arguably the most famous American celebrity of the late Nineteenth Century. (In 1863, he and his bride were invited to the White House by Abraham Lincoln to celebrate their marriage.)

General Thumb did turn 42 in 1880, but since his birthday was in January, and since the finale of last week’s story occurred on November 29th, 1880 (H timeline), that means this episode must be set in December of that same year. It doesn’t look like December to me, but never mind that, I guess.

Bevins then just stands there for a while, chuckling and staring. 

WILL: Yah, he’s a little creepy.

DAGNY: Yeah. Just because they’re blind doesn’t mean you can sneak into their classroom and stare at them all day.

Back at the Bevins apartment, Amelia and Laura arrive. Amelia offers Laura a cookie, and she laughs to realize she herself made it.

They brainstorm potential essay topics, but when Laura suggests Amelia write one about missing her father, she shoots the idea down.

She also lies and says her dad’s been gone for months.

Laura notices a string of Mr. Bevins’s whittled rose beads and compliments them. 

When Laura finally arrives back at the hotel, Albert and Mary are helping Ma in the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Baby Grace stares into the camera, hiccuping!

Laura explains to Ma that Mr. Bevins isn’t actually Amelia’s father, and Mary talks about what a wonderful person he is.

DAGNY: Ha! You can still hear the baby hiccuping. I love that.

Then Mary shows them the beads he made – and Laura suddenly sees all.

She asks Mary a few probing questions, then leaves.

WILL: Wow, she’s a regular Farnsdale Fremont.

DAGNY: Yeah, this plot is well suited to her mystery-solving skills.

That night, some rowdies at the saloon throw their drinks at a guy trying to ride his horse through the front door.

In the dining room, Charles is playing his fake fiddle. The tune sounds a bit like the “seafaring” motif from Jaws, but I’m sure that’s just a coincidence.

Annoyed by the saloon noise, Charles jumps to the window and starts playing crazily like Sherlock Holmes.

But not even Granville Whipple could win this musical duel.

Nevertheless, Pa screams “HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT!” and Ma laughs.

ALEXANDER: Does anybody ever stay in this hotel?

Laura comes down in her jammies and shares the findings of her investigation.

“Whatever it is, it’s none of our business,” Ma says – a bucket of joys as usual.

Laura says okay and goes back to bed.

The minute she’s gone, Busybody Chuck turns around and starts gossiping about the situation.

After a break, we see Mr. Ames telling Adam he should enjoy his day off rather than hanging around the school doing extra work. “It’s Saturday, son, and the sun is shining!” he says.

ALEXANDER: Is that a tongue twister?

Adam says hey, look who’s talking, Ames.

In fact, Adam says he’s going to report him to his wife for workaholism. “Ah! She knows I’m hopeless,” Mr. Ames laughs.

WILL: Do you think he’s also hiding out from her at the Blind School?

But Adam finally agrees to take Mary on a picnic after first stopping at the Post Office.

As he’s on his way out, John Bevins stops him and asks if he could mail a letter for him.

Then Adam asks if Mr. Bevins would like to join him and Mary on their picnic.

WILL: Oh my God! He’s got a hot date, and he invites the janitor along?

But Mr. B declines. 

Adam, who as we’ve seen is no fool, points out that Bevins hasn’t left the school in weeks.

It also comes out that Bevins has been working on the school’s roof at night, presumably so as not to be seen by his family. Mr. B points says he’s doing it because it’s cooler at night; but wouldn’t it also be too dark to see? 

Adam seems unsatisfied, but eventually lets him go.

WILL: He knows something’s up. Now Bevins is gonna have to kill him.

In the street, Laura comes running up to Adam and says he’s gotta go find Mary, who’s “madder than a wet hen.” (Period-appropriate.)

“Not having been raised on a farm,” Adam says drily, “I’m not quite sure how mad that is.”

Laura says he’s late picking his girlfriend up for their date, and says she can mail his letters for him.

At the Post Office, Laura has a friendly conversation with Winoka’s Postmaster General. (He’s Sam Edwards, and given we’ll meet him again in a larger role, I’m not going to go through his resume, but believe me, it’s stacked with notable things. I’ll just mention he was in Escape to Witch Mountain and did voices for Bambi (!). Stay tuned for the rest.)

Confused, the Postmaster-G points out that one letter is addressed to a Winoka rooming house that’s right across the street.

Processing this with her clever brain, Laura says mail it anyway.

We see the letter is addressed to Mrs. Bess Bevins, Winoka Rooming House, Winoka, So. Dakota. The South Dakota is anachronistic, and the address in general is a bit vague, I think. Surely there’d be more than one rooming house in a city this size?

Also, if I remember my Miss Manners, Mrs. John Bevins would be a more proper form of address by the custom of the time. 

Interestingly, we can see the letter beneath Mr. Bevins was mailed by an Albert Reed of Lebeck [sic], California! This is one of the students, presumably; but why would he use his California residence for the return address? Unless he’s trying to cheat the system and mail a letter without postage, so they have to deliver it to the return address – for free! I used to do that all the time in college, but I think the statute of limitations on my crimes has expired.

As for the postage itself, it looks accurate enough: a Ben Franklin one-cent stamp from 1880, a Washington six-cent stamp from 1875, and another Franklin one-center from 1867 or 1868. (Twelve or thirteen years seems a long time to hang on to a stamp, but whatever.)

Then we cut to Mary and Adam coming back from their picnic. They’re having a cute little argument. It’s not crystal clear, but it seems in the manner of mothers everywhere, Caroline tried to send them home with more food than they needed, which Adam refused.

Mary worries that Ma will think Adam doesn’t like her fried chicken, so Adam screams “I love Mrs. Ingalls’ fried chicken!” – which is hilarious.

Then he whispers to Mary, “I love your mother’s chicken . . . and I love your mother’s daughter.” 

“Which one?” Mary flirts. She seems to have a better sense of humor these days, which I suppose is not an uncommon side effect of getting laid regularly.

They kiss and whisper almost-dirty things to each other for a while. You know, I think theirs might be the most genuinely satisfying romantic relationship (besides Charles and Caroline’s) that we’ve yet seen on this show (though the lovers of “‘Here Come the Brides’” come close too).

And I guess there’s these guys as well, to round out the top five couples.

DAGNY: Why does Mary live here? Wouldn’t she live at the hotel with her family?

WILL: Well, there’s no room for her there. Plus the teaching job comes with room and board.

DAGNY: I still think it’s an unusual arrangement for the time. She’s essentially cohabiting with her boyfriend. I don’t think Ma and Pa would be crazy about it. 

Then there’s some pounding. NO, it’s not Adam and Mary, you sickos. It’s Mr. Bevins working on the roof again. 

DAGNY: Wouldn’t this bother the kids trying to sleep inside? 

WILL: Yes. It isn’t a deaf school!

Mary says, “I wish he had come with us today” – a nicer thing to say than what she really feels, which is thank God he didn’t.

Then Adam mock-orders her to go to bed and kisses her goodnight.

WILL [as MARY, whispering]: “I’ll leave the door unlocked. See you in about twenty minutes.”

Then we see John Bevins a-workin’ on the roof. 

WILL: Where is the light coming from?

DAGNY: And why can’t he hear the saloon?

Indeed, all we can hear is some serial-killer-type music from the Rose.

Bevins climbs higher on the roof to grab some more shingles – but they slip and he falls through a hole in the roof with an enormous crash.

To kooky burbling terror music, Adam, Mary and Mr. Ames all rush out into the hall.

DAGNY: Where is Mr. Ames’s wife? He obviously lives there.

WILL: Well, he’s a workaholic. Probably just working late again.

DAGNY: In his nightie?

None of the kids seems to have woken up, which seems strange.

Mr. Ames runs up to the attic room and finds a horrific sight: John Bevins grasping his belly in agony, and choking on his own blood!

Ames runs for help.

The next morning, the sun comes up. All the gamblers and outlaws are either dead or nursing their hangovers; only the Standish Dairy milkman is out and about, in fact.

Well, not just him. Charles Ingalls has also been summoned to lead the rapid-response team.

DAGNY: He looks so skinny again. I bet Michael Landon was on a diet and that’s what inspired this story.

The doctor comes out of a room. Behind him, we can see a bed which presumably contains Mr. Bevins. How did they get him into bed in another room? I imagine that wasn’t an easy task. But maybe all the blind kids pitched in.

The doctor says Mr. B’s spleen is on the verge of rupturing, but he won’t grant him permission to operate. (Splenectomies are a very old procedure.)

The doctor says Bevins is depressed and has chosen death. “Even if he let me operate,” he says, “with that attitude he’d never make it. A man that size, without the will to live? He wouldn’t have a chance.”

DAGNY: I’m not sure about that diagnosis.

If the doctor looks familiar, it may be because he’s identical to Frederick Deering, the man from Pathfinder Magazine who came to award John Junior his poetry scholarship. (The actor is Walker Edmiston.)

Deering was notable for his store-bought satchel, and for his possibly unwholesome interest in John.

Charles asks the doctor to stay with the patient whilst he runs an errand.

WILL: This doctor’s taking orders from Charles now?

DAGNY: Yeah. In real life, they’d just expect Mary to do everything, even though she’s blind.

Meanwhile, at the Bevinses’ apartment, Amelia is obsessively brushing her hair – you know, like Caroline Ingalls.

There’s a knock at the door. It’s Charles, whom Bess Bevins addresses by name. I suppose if she gets coffee and cookies at the Dakota every morning, she’s met him a bunch of times.

(Although, seriously, what does Charles’s job actually entail? We’ve never seen him do more than wash windows and meddle with leering customers in the restaurant. I assume he cleans rooms? He seems to have a lot of free time during work hours for football scrimmages and the like. And who brings up fresh towels when he’s out brawling in the streets?)

Charles says he has information about Mrs. Bevins’s husband she must hear.

“There was an accident at the school last night,” he says. “He fell.”

Mrs. Bevins says that’s impossible, because her husband is miles away, workin’ on the railroad all the live-long day.

“Mrs. Bevins, I don’t know what the problems are you’re having with your husband,” Charles says curtly, “but I wish you’d put them aside for now. He’s very ill.”

DAGNY: Of course he gives her a tongue-lashing about it.

Very confused, Mrs. B produces the letter she received from her husband. Charles astonishes her by pointing out it was mailed from Winoka itself.

WILL [as CHARLES]: “Elementary, my dear Bevins.”

Mrs. Bevins says she’ll come with Charles. I don’t really think either Cliff Emmich or Katherine Woodville seem especially engaged in these roles; maybe that’s just me.

Anyways, when they get to John’s room all the non-Bevinses withdraw. Bess wakes her husband up and begs him to have the operation. He’s not happy to see her.

Bess says no matter what she’s done, he must change his mind about the operation.

“Oh my Bess,” says John. “You and Amelia . . . you can have a life. . . . I’m a fat ugly freak. . . . Go, please! . . . Don’t let me ruin her life anymore. . . .”

He loses consciousness, and Bess screams for the doctor. As the music rises hysterically, she commands him to operate, and Amelia stares at her father as expressionlessly as a Vulcan.

DAGNY: This is so melodramatic. It’s like a 1930s movie. “No, no! Darling, you mustn’t leave me!”

WILL: Yeah, or an opera. La Traviata . . . no, La Bohème! He even lives in an attic.

Downstairs, life goes on, but Mary does make an announcement about Mr. B’s condition.

WILL: Mr. Bevins has kind of taken over this school, hasn’t he?

Then Mary says, “I was going to cancel classes today, until I read an essay by Sue Farley. I’ve asked Sue to read it for us.”

WILL: The kids should all groan.

Now, others have pointed out the incongruity of Sue being called Sue Farley here, since elsewhere she’s identified as Sue Goodspeed. (We haven’t heard that name yet, though.)

But there’s probably a simple reason. Perhaps Farley is her middle name, and she goes by “Sue-Farley” the way some women are called “Sue-Ann” or “Sue-Ellen.”

Anyways, Sue-Farley reads her essay, “The Love I See”:

I’ve always lived in a dark world

Along with all of you.

We have happy times

And sad ones too.

But we’re together and try to help 

Each other as best we can.

It’s a rare thing when a sighted person come into our midst

And seems to understand.

Mister Bevins is such a man.

His voice makes you happy when he says hello,

And when you touch his hand, you feel kindness.

He makes so many things to brighten our lives.

If the world were filled with people like Mister Bevins,

There would be no darkness,

Just a bright glow of love: the love I see.

God bless you, Mister Bevins!

DAGNY: Is she obsessed with him or something?

WILL: I don’t know, but it’s one hell of a piece of creative writing for an eleven-year-old. It even rhymes!

DAGNY: Yeah, eat your heart out, John Junior.

Plus, I’d say it’s excellent work considering just last week Sue didn’t even know the braille alphabet yet! She deserves an A for sure.

Meanwhile, Amelia, who has overheard this glurge from the hall, weeps silently.

Later, the characters all mill about moodily in the school offices.

Charles and Laura appear, bearing sandwiches Ma made for everybody.

Bess Bevins says John hasn’t woken up yet, and Charles tells her to get some rest.

DAGNY: Is Charles gonna give him a lecture that brings him back to life?

Overwhelmed with emotion, Amelia goes to visit her father in his sickroom.

There’s a bloody bowl on the side table. You’d think somebody would have cleared that away by now.

Amelia sits down and says, “Papa . . . you have to be all right. . . . You have to know I love you. . . . I know I’ve hurt you . . . and I don’t expect you to love me . . . but oh, Papa, so many people love you! Mama and the blind girl Sue! She loves you so much . . . so please live for them! Please!”

DAGNY: Oh my God. . . .

WILL: You don’t like this one?

DAGNY: It’s PUNISHING. I can tell you already, there won’t be another story this bad this season. It’s not possible.

She’s in for a surprise, isn’t she!

For what it’s worth, I actually find Julie Anne Haddock a better actor than either of her TV parents.

But yes, during this scene it’s hard not to be reminded of Oscar Wilde’s quote about Dickens: “One must have a heart of stone to read the death of Little Nell without laughing.”

And of course, Mr. B wakes up to comfort his daughter.

The doctor is delighted and rushes out to fetch Bess.

Everyone cheers the good news. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’d like a sandwich!” Charles says hilariously.

Time passes, and then we see Mr. Bevins walking Amelia to school.

The idiot “Smitty” rushes up and starts to tell another fat joke (#25).

But Mr. Bevins tells him to blow it out his ass. (Paraphrase.)

Bum-Bum-Ba-Dum!

STYLE WATCH: John Bevins carries a uniquely patterned carpetbag.

And wears a nicely textured jacket.

Mr. Ames’s nightgown/robe combo is fire.

Charles appears to go commando again.

THE VERDICT: I liked “The Man Inside” better than Dags did, but it’s fair to say this is what happens when Little House on the Prairie curdles on you. All the ingredients are there, but there’s just something sickly about the taste.

Plus, this may sound funny, but I think “Annabelle” approaches the topic of weight stigma more sensitively. After all, Annabelle encourages all the blind kids to circle around her and feel her body, to realize there’s nothing monstrous about her; in fact, she’s quite wonderful the way she is. 

It’s implied the blind kids in this story like Mr. B only because they can’t see him, which isn’t quite the same thing. And the Bevins family’s attitude isn’t “John is great the way he is,” it’s more “Being fat is gross, but if you can’t help it it’s okay, and besides, everyone’s thin on the inside!” John decides he wants to live, and Amelia feels guilty, but nothing about their sensibilities has really changed. The story’s heart is in the right place, certainly, but the way the theme is explored leaves much to be desired. 

But it’s well plotted, Laura has a great part in it, the Mary-and-Adam romance scenes are winning, and little Michelle Downey kind of steals the show as Sue-Farley Goodspeed.

WILL: Apple vendor? Who the hell was the apple vendor?

UP NEXT: There’s No Place Like Home: Part One