The Sound of Children

What Could Go Wrong?; or

Notice It’s Not “The SIGHT of Children”

(a recap by Will Kaiser)

Title: The Sound of Children

Airdate: February 5, 1979

Written by Carole and Michael Raschella

Directed by William F. Claxton

SUMMARY IN A NUTSHELL: Depressing One Alert. Mary and Adam experience the first tragedy in their attempts to have kids. (Also, Adam’s dad is a dick.)

RECAP: On January 29, 1979, NBC gave Little House the week off so it could show part of a miniseries called Backstairs at the White House. I never heard of it, but it sounds interesting. 

Produced by Little House co-creator (and Landon frenemy) Ed Friendly, it’s the true story of a Black family who worked as domestic staff in the White House between the Taft and Eisenhower administrations.

I don’t know if it was any good, but the production featured at least nine alumni of our show! 

Louis Gossett, Jr. (who played Charles and Mr. Edwards’s blastin’-oil-deliverin’ pal Henry Hill), was the male lead, “houseman” Levi Mercer. 

(I couldn’t find a picture of the real Levi Mercer, but here is Gossett as the character. I find him unrecognizable without the mustache.)

Last week’s guest star Eileen Heckart played Eleanor Roosevelt . . .

. . . and John Anderson (Amos Pike the maniac) was FDR. 

Jan Sterling (Laura Colby “Dancing Grandma” Ingalls) was First Lady Lou Hoover.

Ford Rainey (Dr. Burke (but probably best known as Dr. Mixter from Halloween II)) was Secretary of the Navy Edwin Denby. 

Tom Clancy of the Clancy Brothers & Tommy Makem (Shaughnessy the singin’ moonshinin’ Irish cook) was Algonquin Round Table wit Alexander Woollcott. 

Ann Doran (Helen Tyler – Big Jim’s wife) was (Martha) Ellen Truman, Harry S Truman’s mother. 

Woodrow Parfrey (rail baron and distant dad J.W. Diamond) was Roosevelt advisor Louis Howe.

And Bill Quinn (Dying-of-Typhus Carl, among other roles) was industrialist and Secretary of the Treasury Andrew Mellon. 

Whew! What a laugh they all must have had when they realized what they had in common.

Little House came back on February 5th, and as our story materializes onscreen, we see the Grovester kids playing Three O’Cat or Twelve O’Cat or Whatever-the-Hell O’Cat once again. 

The cheerful tone belies the horrors to come; but first I should mention that our friend Daisy, an Original Walnut Groovester and all-around hilarious person who’s famous for her rubber-chicken purse, among other things, joined Dags and me for this one. 

(Daisy’s husband Jeremiah, clearly worried about running with the big dogs, chickened out.)

The title appears.

DAISY: Notice it’s not “The SIGHT of Children.”

(Told you she was good.)

Gelfling Boy is pitching, and Not-Gelfling Boy is catching. Never seen the two of them together before.

The other players and spectators include Albert, Willie, the sighted AEK, Not-Linda Hunt, both the regular-size and Miniature Midsommar Kids, and Miniature Art Garfunkel.

Nellie sits on the school steps, but we can’t tell if she’s watching the game or not.

Willie gets a hit, but it’s caught by the Midsommar Kid.

Then Albert gets a home run, or whatever the O’Cat equivalent of a home run was called.

A little girl who looks like the Smallest Nondescript Helen of Them All (let’s assume it is her) compliments Albert on his prowess.

But he ignores her, yelling, “Come on, Tom! Get a hit!”

WILL: Tom?

Then Albert says, “Forget it, Holly – I don’t play with girls.” Which is a crock of shit, he does nothing else.

Holly has the same objection, but Albert dodges it.

(Holly is played by Martha Nix, who was a regular on Days of Our Lives and on The Waltons in the seventies.)

Turning his attention back to the game, Albert yells, “Come on, Jeff! We got ’em! Get another hit!” 

WILL: Jeff?

We never find out who Tom or Jeff are (there didn’t appear to be any boys on deck when Albert was up) because Laura rings the bell.

Apparently Alice Garvey is out of town, and Laura’s been designated, or more likely has designated herself, Mary For A Day.

Laura mentions to Albert that the Garveys have “gone back east for a month.” 

As I’ve mentioned before, the Garveys’ origins are obscure. Never given a proper introduction, they presumably arrived in the fall of 1876(-E), while the Ingallses were in the Black Hills of the Dakota Territory. 

We also know that they, or Jonathan at any rate, previously spent time in Kansas, where he made a bitter enemy of Jud Lar[r]abee. (How both Garvey and Lar[r]abee ended up in Nowheresville, Minnesota, has never been explained.)

Apart from this, we know nothing of the Garveys’ history. But Kansas is southwest of Minnesota, not east, so that can’t be where they’ve gone now. 

I suppose Alice may be from an eastern state, and they’re visiting her family. (Caroline’s sister Eliza Ann is a dead ringer for Alice, so possibly she also comes from the Milwaukee area herself and is some sort of relative. If so, it’s never been mentioned, though.) 

(Then again, Caroline once did mysteriously refer to Wisconsin as “the East.” Calling Wisconsin “the East” conjures images of Zoroastrian Magi riding cows instead of camels, but that’s maybe just me. Usually when people here in Minnesota talk about “eastern states,” they mean further east than that.) 

Apparently today’s the day a new substitute teacher is taking charge.

DAISY: Ooh, is it Eliza Jane?

WILL: I wish.

DAGNY: Wouldn’t it be great if Beads came back as a sub, just this time?

It would.

The show then takes another of its infrequent stabs at epigrammatic dialogue.

LAURA: I’m not starting out on the wrong foot with the teacher.

WILLIE: . . . I don’t see what difference it makes which foot I start out on. I end up standin’ in the corner on both feet!

Willie’s comment has “kids’ joke-book” written all over it. (If you have spent any time with small children, you know such books should be banned as torture devices under the Geneva Convention.)

But, since it’s a show for kids, I guess bad jokes are okay. And as someone whose jokes are always great and work perfectly, it’s easy for me to be critical.

DAISY: I was always suspicious about kids called “Willie,” probably because of Willie Oleson.

Interesting. I myself was rarely called “Willie” as a child, mainly because Will isn’t my real name.

Well, the writers responsible for Willie’s joke this time are Carole and Michael Raschella. (My money’s on Michael, but it’s difficult to prove.)

Clax is back as director.

The kids file in clamorously.

Seemingly improvising, Melissa Gilbert, Matthew Labyorteaux and Jonathan Gilbert have an awkward conversation about fishing.

But Albert stops short when the new teacher arrives.

She’s a brunette beauty, sort of a hotter Mary Poppins.

To a waltz arrangement of Albert’s theme, the teacher processes to the front of the room and introduces herself as Miss Elliot.

WILL: It seems like we’re getting fewer and fewer Alice Garvey classroom scenes. They must not have found her as compelling as the Bead.

DAISY: Well, she isn’t. I liked her as a character, but not as the teacher.

WILL: Yeah. I think everybody feels that way. She lost me after she was so mean to that poor student in Winoka.

DAISY: Which one? 

WILL: Oh, you know. The big dumb ox.

Anyways, Albert has instantly fallen in love, and when Miss Elliot asks for help finding the rolls, he falls on his face as well.

Miss E takes little notice of this, strangely; then Nellie introduces herself as the leader of the school, and of the town.

“Oh,” Miss Elliot says, in a tone saying she’ll avoid calling on this person in the future.

As Not-Gelfing Boy and the Miniature Art Garfunkel leer and giggle, Albert gets up and returns to his seat.

We transition then to the thoroughfare, where Hans Dorfler (!) is leading two Bunnies towards the livery as another man sits on the Post Office steps texting.

We can’t see Dorfler’s (rubbery) face, but the costume’s the same. Glad to know he’s still kickin’ around the Grove.

In Doc’s office, meanwhile, Boobilious Boo Berry Caroline is pacing in the lobby.

Quite cheerfully, Doc pops out of his surgery and says, “Caroline, your diagnosis was correct.”

Sounding stressed, Caroline says, “Are you sure?” and Doc laughs, “Now, why is that always the first question?”

DAGNY: Because you’re a horrible doctor.

Then Mary follows Doc out and says, smiling, “I’m gonna have a baby, Ma.”

Now, I know we’re not supposed to know what happens yet, but I bet David Rose was just dying to give us a horror chord and/or slide-whistle swoop as an omen of things to come.

DAGNY: How did doctors confirm pregnancy in those days?

WILL: They looked up the woman’s skirt with a candle.

DAISY: Yeah. There were a lot of singed pubes in the Nineteenth Century.

(Actually, there was no true way for doctors to tell.)

Doc says she’s about three months gone, and Mary and Ma twitter about how excited Adam and Pa will be. (Thank goodness we’re free to use twitter as a verb again.)

Mary might seem young (Anderson was sixteen), but in Little House Universe Time (LHUT), three or four years have passed since her wedding day.

And if Mary has any residue of the anxiety she expressed about having a child in “The Wedding,” she doesn’t show it.

Knowing Doc has the loosest (and driest) lips in town, Ma says, “Don’t you tell him!”

Then we see her running across the bridge to the Mill.

“You’re gonna be a grandpa!” she screams at Charles.

DAGNY [as MA]: “Laura and Albert are expecting!”

Not funny.

Ma and Pa are overjoyed, which is nice to see. We don’t have any grandchildren yet, but I know a lot of people these days struggle with the news because it makes them feel old. You know, like how some people insist on being called Meep Morp or Pim-Pim or whatever instead of Grandma and Grandpa. I think that’s too bad; but everybody’s got to make their own way in this world.

That night at the Harriet Oleson Institute for the Advancement of Blind Children, Mary has arranged for herself and Adam to have a little dinner date after the students have gone to bed.

WILL: My God, Adam’s high-waisted.

Indeed. I’m reminded of the folk hero Old Dan Tucker (you may have heard of him), who was said to have “buttoned his britches up round his throat.”  

Adam recognizes by smell that Mary’s put flowers on the table, which I like to see. He should really join the Oleson Ingalls Garvey Detective Agency if we ever get another mystery episode.

DAISY: I had such a huge crush on Adam.

DAGNY: So does Olive.

Mary says she’s made a casserole, which these days people in Minnesota and Wisconsin call “hotdish,” but it seems the term might not have been in use yet in the 1880s.

Before Mary can announce her news, a little kid appears in the doorway. “Yeah, Eli?” Adam says.

WILL: Eli! Oh, shit! I’ve been calling another kid “Little Eli” on the blog. I’m going to have to differentiate them somehow. Can I call them Little White Eli and Little Black Eli?

DAGNY: You’re not calling anyone Little Black anything on Walnut Groovy.

The Real Little Eli says he needs some tools to break Hester-Sue out of the water closet, where she’s accidentally locked herself.

DAGNY [laughing]: Oh, just like Bran!

I think I mentioned that we had a houseguest from Wales staying with us over the Thanksgiving holiday. His name was Bran – a college friend of Roman’s. 

He shocked everyone by using the words “fuckin’” and “c–nt” in every sentence. (Even in front of the moms and grandmas.) 

He also addressed everyone as “Bro.” (Even the moms and grandmas.)

Bran didn’t have the nicest manners and was not universally popular, but overall he seemed a decent and loyal friend to Roman, and we liked him. (Well, except for Amelia, who found him rude.)

But he was super-clumsy: He tripped and fell down our basement stairs, ripping out our carpeting as he did so. (He was unharmed, as far as we could tell anyways.)

And when we all went over to Amelia and Olive’s mom and stepdad’s house for a games night, Bran pulled a Hester-Sue and locked himself in the bathroom. (Unlike Hester-Sue, he was drunk, though. I’m quite sure Hester-Sue would not have liked him!)

And no, we didn’t watch Little House with him. I thought about it, but when we watched The Silence of the Lambs together, he said he thought we all talked too much.

Anyways, this is the first time anyone in Walnut Grove has been said to have an indoor toilet. Even the Olesons don’t have one yet.

Little Eli expresses the precise level of his concern about Hester-Sue’s dilemma, saying, “It wouldn’t matter, except I gotta go.”

Little Eli grabs a toolbox and walks back through the doorway with ease. (A little too much ease for a blind kid, if you ask me.)

Adam follows his nose into the kitchen then, where he finds Mary’s casserole cooking. (A Raschellian play on “bun in the oven”???)

Mary then brings out a cookie sheet with baked potatoes on it – a strange accompaniment for hotdish.

Even though the kids were said to have already eaten, there are eight potatoes on the baking sheet. I know pregnant women have cravings, but how hungry is she?

Also, as others have pointed out, she sets the hot pan directly onto the tablecloth without a trivet – a no-no.

Mary starts telling the news to Adam, but Little Eli interrupts again. He’s botched Operation Rescue Hester-Sue.

Eli says H-S is “hoppin’ mad” (origin unclear, but probably around by this point).

Adam starts to head upstairs, since “Mrs. Terhune does have a way with words, and I don’t expect you should be hearing them at your age.” 

I do not for one second believe Hester-Sue would ever use foul language under any circumstances. As I said, she isn’t what I’d call the Bran Type. 

But as Adam’s walking out, Mary says “I’m gonna have a baby!”

They do a cute old-fashioned-movie thing where Adam says okay, whatever, then comes back in and quietly says, “What?” It’s quite like the “George Bailey lassos stork!” scene in It’s a Wonderful Life. 

(We watch It’s a Wonderful Life every Christmas, and this time when George runs through Pottersville’s thriving business district, Alexander said, “Whoa! What is this, Sleepy Eye?”)

Well, Adam is thrilled, and he and Mary embrace.

DAISY: This isn’t the one that burns up?

DAGNY: No, this is just a practice baby.

Then we see Ma pulling out the girls’ old baby clothes at the Little House.

Mary tells Ma she doubts Adam will even tell his father about the pregnancy, since the two of them don’t get along.

Apparently Kendall Senior is a bigshot lawyer of the firm of Kendall, Chandler & Holmes. Mary says he doesn’t even know that Adam has a wife.

Stupid Mary then says the dad can’t be that bad, since he’s “all alone,” and Meddlin’ Ma suggests she write to him behind Adam’s back.

Mary, whose hair has begun its gradual browning in this episode, thinks that’s a terrific idea.

Then we cut to a brickfront city block with busy street traffic in front of it. 

We don’t know what city it is, but it’s clearly larger even than Winoka.

The branding we see includes an American Express (founded 1850) wagon.

There’s also a sign above a doorway that appears to read Bank of S– M– (I can’t make it out), and Robert’s Department Store on an outside wall.

There was a famous Robert’s Department Store chain in Los Angeles County, but it didn’t open till 1950, so for that and other reasons I think we can shut that theory down.

There was also a chain of Robert’s Department Stores in Westchester County, New York, one of which still exists today.

But they didn’t open until the 1930s.

Then a (yellow-wheeled) delivery wagon pulls into the shot, which helps narrow down the location, since it reads Coney Island Bakery. So, NYC.

A paddywagon also appears.

We cut to what’s presumably the law office of Kendall Senior, which is packed with masculine art and doodads.

There are two paintings of swans being hunted by dogs, apparently a popular subject for artists in the Seventeenth and Eighteenth centuries.

A pretty but haggard and overworked-looking woman bearing an armful of papers enters.

A man’s voice from offscreen drones: “Well, my experience in matters of this nature assures me that we do have a case, Mr. Radcliff.”

The voice belongs to a Dick-Van-Patten-type man who’s wearing a pinky ring and talking on a telephone. A speakerphone, actually, which I didn’t think was a thing back then.

This is Kendall Senior, who finishes his call and turns to his mail. He reads what’s presumably Mary’s letter.

“Miss Bennett,” he says thoughtfully, “I’d like to send a telegram . . . to Mr. and Mrs. Adam Kendall.”

Miss Bennet looks up in some surprise.

DAGNY: That secretary looks like Cobie Smulders.

(Miss Bennett is Naomi White, who also appeared on Father Murphy.)

Back at the Oleson Institute, it’s night, and Adam and Mary are quarreling in the dark. (They’re fully dressed, not in bed.)

Mary says Adam’s never told her why he hates his father so much. (Seems unlikely, considering he talked about the matter at length to Frank Carlin in “The Winoka Warriors.” He wouldn’t shut up about it, actually.)

But maybe Adam, who has a Machiavellian streak a mile wide, saves daddy-issues stories for when he wants to manipulate someone, as was the case with Mr. Carlin.

Anyways, Adam says Kendall Senior turned cold to him the minute he went blind.

“Maybe he needed some of the patience you show to your students!” Mary says knowledgeably.

ALL: Ugh/Oh my God/Come on, Mary, etc.

Adam says, “The problem is, you think every father in the world is just like yours.”

ALL: Yeah! Give it to her! Preach! etc.

(There might even have been some applause.)

Mary informs us that the telegram says Adam’s father is on his way to pay them a visit. She suggests the bonds of family override any prior offense amongst relations. (We’ll see about that.) 

Well, Adam says he’ll try to keep an open mind.

The next day, or sometime, we see the comely Miss Elliot at the head of the class again. 

DAISY: Is she Susan Dey? Partridge Family Susan Dey, not L.A. Law Susan Dey.

In fact, in 1979, Susan Dey would have been in between being Partridge Family Susan Dey and L.A. Law Susan Dey; but she’s neither.

No, she’s Ellen Regan, who was in The Kentucky Fried Movie (wow, that takes me back), and who appeared on episodes of Taxi, Diff’rent Strokes and Cheers. 

Anyways, on the desk is an enormous pile of dried reeds or rushes. Is Fred the goat on the rampage again, and the school an emergency storage unit for stuff he likes to eat?

I guess not. Miss Elliot says she’s going to teach them how to weave baskets.

WILL [chanting]: They´re coming to take me away, ha ha, ho ho, hee hee, to the Funny Farm with birds and flowers and basket weavers . . . 

The class today includes most of the kids we saw earlier on the playground, as well as the Screaming Laughing Girl and a very sour-faced little girl we’ve never seen before.

Willie objects that weaving is women’s work, and Miss E says the boys will be allowed to play ball instead of learning and working.

Laura says she’d rather play sports than learn too, and Elliot says all the students can decide which one they’d prefer. (The Bead’s cockamamie schemes often blew up in her face, but I can’t imagine her approving of this.)

Albert, who’s wearing Juniors’ Cut Pinky, surprises Laura by saying actually, he’d like to stay inside and make a basket.

WILL: Do you think Albert’s in love with the teacher because they have the same hair?

Grinning imbecilically, Albert says he thinks it will make a perfect present for Mary’s baby. (Albert has rarely had a chance to be really stupid – yet. But he’s in good company. I got one of my godsons a copy of Huckleberry Finn when he was born, and Pa got Laura a dictionary for her birthday. Men are pretty much fools.)

Well, Miss E applauds this idiocy.

Laura gives him a smirk and departs.

Next we see Mary and Little Eli, who are gardening at the Institute.

Little Eli tells a sad story about how his mother had two children, but abandoned him and fled with his sister.

Turns out Eli is worried Mary will neglect him after the baby comes. (She will, but only because we never see him on the show again.)

Little Eli, who’s a pretty cute kid, is Dain C. Turner,  who as a child actor appeared on a number of shows including Diff’rent Strokes and The Jeffersons.

Later, he would drop the C and enjoy a long career as a movie stuntman, appearing in Jerry Maguire, Transformers, Steven Spielberg’s War of the Worlds, Pearl Harbor, John Carpenter’s Escape From L.A. and Ghosts of Mars, Anaconda, and Rat Race. (That last one sucked, though it did introduce me to the useful slang term “prairie-dogging.”)

We shift gears again as Mustache Man’s stagecoach comes roaring into town.  

Mr. and Mrs. Penguin Man get out, followed by Mr. Kendall (Senior). Adam and Mary await him on the steps of the Post Office.

Mr. Kendall shakes Adam’s hand and greets Mary pleasantly. 

He seems friendly enough, even insisting that Mary call him “Father.”

DAISY: He’s creepy. Is he gonna walk around and look at her behind?

DAGNY: They’d never know.

Adam and his father express regret at their estrangement, and they embrace.

Thinking how right she was, Mary smiles. Boy, has she got a lot to learn about life.

That night, Mr. Kendall joins the family for dinner at the Little House. He rises and produces a bottle of wine, which he describes as “Bordeaux claret, 1865.” 

DAISY: Oh, are they gonna have class issues?

(“Claret” is a British nickname for red wine produced near Bordeaux in the southwest of France. I’m not sure why Mr. Kendall, an American, uses the term, but it may indicate he’s pretentious. Whilst not every American who affects Britishisms is a pompous ass, obviously, many are.) 

Anyways, Carrie says the 1865 wine is “older than me.” 

DAISY: I’m surprised she knows that.

(The real Carrie Ingalls was born in 1870, but in our timeline I date the fictional one’s birthday to 1866(-A) or then-abouts.)

Mystified by the age of the wine, Carrie asks, “Didn’t they have any new ones?”

WILL [as MR. KENDALL]: “Wait till you taste it, dumbass.”

DAISY: Yeah, is this the one where Carrie becomes an alcoholic?

Kendall laughs, then lectures the family about wine, saying it must breathe before drinking.

WILL: Yup, class issues.

Despite being a teetotaler, Pa, who likes just about everyone and is interested in just about everything, enjoys Kendall’s wine-bore factoids.

Albert says he’s sure his fantasy goddess Miss Elliot knows everything about wine.

Carrie looks at the wine bottle and says, “It’s not breathing. I think it’s dead.”

Everybody laughs.

DAGNY: That whole scene was like a Family Circus cartoon.

Also, are they going to drink the wine out of their tin cups?

Later that night, Mary and Adam return home. 

Mary is carrying a fancy walking stick. (A present from Kendall Senior, given in a deleted scene?)

Adam seems horny, and tells Mary his dad’s been going on about how hot she is. (Gross.)

He also says he was wrong to doubt Mary’s judgment about inviting Kendall Senior.

Mary says they should go to bed before she turns into a pumpkin, and Adam says she’s too late. (Fat Joke #32.)

Then they make out.

Cut to the Oleson Institute, day. 

Little Eli is gardening again, or still, and Hester-Sue is leading some little blindsters around the grounds.

Kendall Senior arrives on foot. I would have thought they’d put him up at the Institute itself, but maybe there isn’t room? 

I doubt he’d think much of the Post Office. 

No way he’d like the soddy.

Inside, Mary is handing out papers whilst Adam takes attendance.

He calls Sue Goodspeed and Thomas the Blond Freckle-Faced Moppet, whose surname is revealed for the first time to be Murray.

Then he calls a Benjamin Stone, who arrives late for class, crashing into Kendall Senior as he does so.

DAGNY: That kid’s trying too hard. He’s Marcel Marceau-ing it.

Benjamin is the famous figure skater/playboy Christopher Bowman, who also appeared in “The Wedding.” (Mr. Ames called him “George Allen” in that one, though.)

Adam introduces his father to the kids as “Mr. Giles Kendall.”

Mr. Kendall asks Adam if he can have a word in private. (The students in class today include Pigtail Annie, Blind Princess Leia, Janis, and Freckles.)

Outside, Little Eli is fooling around with a rosebush. Since the bush is in bloom, and since it would take at least a week for Giles Kendall to reach Walnut Grove by train, and since the school year seemed to be just starting when Missy Elliot arrived, I would say we’re now in an unseasonably warm late-ish September of 1882-I.

On the veranda, Kendall Senior shocks his son by inviting him and Mary to come live with him in New York City.

Meanwhile, Little Eli eavesdrops.

Giles Kendall says he’s got a lawyer friend named Mayer in Philadelphia . . . who’s blind!!!

As far as I can tell, the first blind lawyer in the United States was a woman, Christine la Barraque, who became licensed to practice in California in 1899 – though it doesn’t seem she ever did practice anywhere. (There wouldn’t be any blind male lawyers till the mid-Twentieth Century. Sorry, Adam.)

Mr. Kendall says, “There’s a very, very fine law school in New York City, and you’ve got the brains.”

WILL [as GILES KENDALL]: “I’ve got the looks. Let’s make lots of money.”

He makes it sound like the easiest thing in the world, but Adam is worried about what’ll happen to the Blind School without Mary and him. (Remember, Mr. Ames is probably dead by this point, so it’s not like he can just be summoned to help.)

Mr. Kendall, who as yet seems pretty reasonable, says Adam should talk the idea over with Mary. He says he feels guilty about all the wasted years, blah blah blah. (Paraphrase.)

Giles Kendall is played by Philip Abbott, who’s probably best known, though not to me, as a regular on a show called The F.B.I., which ran from 1965 to 1974 on ABC. Contrary to the impression I try to give on this blog, I’m no expert in pop culture or anything else, and every once in a while working on this Project I come upon a show like The F.B.I., which was popular enough to run for nine seasons but which I’m not sure I ever even heard of before.

Philip Abbott was in zillions of other things too, including You Are There, Perry Mason, Alfred Hitchcock Presents, The Twilight Zone (twice), Gunsmoke and Bonanza, The Outer Limits, The Six Million Dollar Man and The Bionic Woman, The Incredible Hulk, Quincy, Highway to Heaven, General Hospital, St. Elsewhere, Thirtysomething, Monsters, and Murder, She Wrote.

He voiced Nick Fury on a couple Marvel animated shows in the nineties, if that means anything to you.

He was in the movie Savannah Smiles, which my sister Peggy loved when we were little.

Finally, he wrote and directed a number of educational shorts for Disney called Lessons in Living.

Anyways, Adam is excited, and Kendall Senior says, “I tell ya what, why don’t we all have dinner together tonight?” (Like, where else would he eat?)

Down in the rose-bushes, Little Eli ponders what he’s just heard.

DAISY: Why kill those flowers for people who can’t even see them?

DAGNY: Ableist.

Cut to a commercial, then we see a bunch of kids playing Old Cat during school time.

WILL: The Bead is spinning in her grave!

It’s a pretty evenly mixed group by gender, but inside, we see Albert is the only boy taking the basket-weaving course.

Nellie says she’s done with her wastebasket, but Missy Elliot quickly notices a price tag on the bottom of her “creation.” 

(The basket appears to cost 15 cents, or $4.50 in today’s money.)

Missy E heads to the back of the room, where Albert is constructing a basket about the size of a Volkswagen Golf.

DAGNY: Oh, come on.

Math prodigy, champion beef farmer, whistle inventor, coffin-carver extraordinaire . . . is there anything he can’t do?

Missy makes a strange comment about how Mary would have to have twins in order to justify such a huge basket. (Are these for keeping babies in? Did they do that then?)

DAISY: What if this teacher turned out to be Albert’s MOM???

DAGNY: She probably is. Why do you think he develops all those problems? His first love was his mother.

Meanwhile, Charles is sawing lumber at the Mill.

DAISY: I always worry Pa’s going to lose a finger in these scenes.

WILL/DAGNY: So do we.

Giles Kendall appears. We can see the Medieval Peasant Woman and an unknown man (possibly the Texting Grovester from earlier) in the background. 

Carl the Flunky passes by, scrutinizing a clipboard.

Mr. Kendall tells Charles about his idea to move Adam, Mary and baby to New York with him. 

Pa does not like the idea.

Oblivious to this, Mr. K asks Charles to help convince them to go.

Rather than just lie and say he will, like any normal person would do, Chuck argues that it’s the kids’ own decision to make.

Giles Kendall says but they’ll have the finest medical care in New York!, and Chuck says, “Well, I’ve never had any reason to doubt Dr. Baker.”

DAGNY: Uh, hello? He killed your son.

Giles moves quickly but still pleasantly to economic arguments, saying he simply can provide more to the family than the Grovesters can.

Charles starts getting a little huffy.

DAISY: Does he punch Adam’s dad out?

Then Mr. Kendall says, “Our grandchild isn’t going to be blind like the other children in that school. Maybe you’re forgetting about that.” 

I’m not sure what that has to do with anything, but Charles doesn’t like it, and, annoyed, he says he’s going to leave it up to Mary and Adam to decide.

Kendall prissily thanks Charles for his time and leaves.

WILL [as GILES KENDALL]: “I’ll crush you like a bug, Ingalls.”

DAISY: Pa should have pushed him onto the saw. Problem solved.

Giles Kendall actually reminds me a bit – probably reminds Charles, too – of the smarmy slick assholes Pa ranted against at the Grange convention in Chicago.

That night, Giles Kendall joins Mary and Adam for dinner at the Oleson Institute. He immediately starts telling them about New York City’s glittering restaurant scene, as if they would give two squirts about that.

In an ass-backwards compliment, Kendall says, “If this John F. Mayer character can become a lawyer, then so can my son!”

DAGNY: They gave him the F so people wouldn’t confuse him with the real John Mayer.

John F. Mayer, Esq., was indeed a character, but a fictional one who only exists in the Little House on the Prairie Universe.

Kendall says he’s sure Hester-Sue, whom he refers to as “that Black woman,” will do fine running the school without them. (The dehumanizing references to her and to that John F. Mayer character are tip-offs to Kendall’s character, but let’s wait and see what happens.)

Then Mr. Kendall pulls a piece of jewelry out of his pocket and says it’s a present for Mary. He tries showing it to her, then realizes she can’t see it and hands it to her instead.

It’s a nice brooch. A lot of brooch-related storylines recently.

DAISY: What happened to her brooch from the Bead?

WILL: Good question!

DAGNY: She couldn’t find it, obviously.

DAISY: Ableist.

Kendall says it’s a thank-you for “for giving me a grandchild” and “for making me a very happy man.”

He seems quite sincere, and says he and Adam will be serving her dinner tonight. (I doubt they cooked it, though.)

Back at the Little House, Pa is out in the barn inventing the baby monitor.

DAGNY: Why does he always make a new cradle? Why doesn’t he use the ones from the babies that already died?

WILL: They’re buried in ’em.

Ma brings up Giles Kendall’s proposal. Pa’s still in a huff about it, but he denies having any opinion about the matter, saying again it’s for Mary and Adam to decide themselves.

Ma calmly calls him on this bullshit.

Charles cracks immediately and tells her he’s worried if they go to New York they’ll never see them again.

Then he asks her if she disagrees, saying, “Do you think that child’s gonna be better off in the city?”

DAGNY: Charles has strong feelings about this.

WILL: Well, he hates the city.

DAISY: Yeah. Remember when he fiddled really hard at it?

Pa vents for a while, but says despite his personal feelings, he doesn’t plan to pressure Mary and Adam one way or the other.

At the Oleson Institute, then, we see Mary and Adam in bed. They are not feeling horny.

Mary says obviously going to New York is the sensible choice, but Adam says he wants to know what she wants to do, not what she thinks it makes sense to do.

Mary shrugs and says since she can’t see Walnut Grove anymore anyway, it doesn’t matter if they leave. (Paraphrase.)

Truly her father’s daughter, Mary says home is where your family is.

[UPDATE: Reader Ben notes that Mary actually is her mother’s daughter here, since in The Pilot Ma tells Pa, “My home is where you are, and you and the children are my family.” Thanks Ben! – WK]

Adam reminds her most of her family is here.

But it’s clear he’s genuinely excited about the opportunity, and once again Mary says she’s fine with going. “What could go wrong?” she says. 

DAISY: Oh my God, MARY INGALLS saying “What could go wrong?”

WILL: Yeah. I wonder if that’s on her tombstone.

Adam is pleased, but when we see Mary’s face, it’s clear she ain’t.

After another break, we see Albert’s little legs walking under the giant wicker basket. (Clax must have seen “‘Dance With Me’” and loved the “Lord Epping’s box” bit so much he stole it.)

Then we see Missy Elliot inside her house. 

WILL: Would they really give a substitute a house? They didn’t even give the Bead one.

DAISY: Maybe it’s a summer home.

WILL: Yeah, in Walnut Grove, that great tourist destination.

Albert appears at the door, and Missy says she’s just baked some cookies to take to school today. (What time did she start?)

Anyways, Missy is also a John Wilkes Booth fan. It’s like a secret society in the greater Groveland region.

(She also has a pic of Rutherford B. Hayes, this show’s favorite U.S. President.)

Albert asks her, “Have you ever been in love?”

Missy Elliot sits down and goes into an extended reverie on the subject.

She must be a complete moron, though, or at least unable to read the signs of love, because then she drops the bomb that she’s got a fiancé, which she seems to think Albert would be pleased to know.

Albert is disappointed and leaves. Sad Albert theme.

On the road to school, he meets the Smallest Nondescript Helen of Them All, who’s also been baking cookies.

She says she “just came from your place.” If that’s true, I’m not sure where Missy Elliot’s house must be. (If they’re both walking towards school, how can they meet in the middle of the road?) 

I suppose if she lives down by the Old Rustic Bridge, it’s possible Albert and Helen could be meeting where the paths cross just south of Busby’s old lurking grounds.

The Smallest Helen then asks Albert to go fishing. He says sure, and they immediately do. Maybe it isn’t before school after all.

WILL: That was a lame fucking storyline.

Meanwhile, at the Oleson Institute, Mary is breaking the news to Little Eli, who’s tending his roses again. Since all of the Blind School students are master gardeners, accordion virtuosi and the like, and the Groveland kids care about nothing but baseball and cookies, maybe Giles Kendall is right that his grandchild wouldn’t have the best opportunities there as a non-blind student.

Mary says, “When I was little, my family lived in a place called Wisconsin.”

WILL [as MARY, mysteriously]: “In the East . . .”

“We studied it in class, remember?” she says, and Eli exclaims, “The thirteenth state!”

DAGNY: Really? He’s excited about that?

Mary blathers on for a long while, but Little Eli cuts through the crap.

Mary says she’ll always love him (a little intense for a teacher/student relationship) and starts opening and closing her mouth like a beached carp again – a favorite MSA technique.

DAISY: I love when Mary’s so emotional she chokes when she’s talking.

DAGNY: Yeah. And her lips quiver.

“Whenever I smell roses,” she croaks to Eli sadly, “they’ll remind me of you.” 

DAGNY: God she can be a drip.

WILL: Well, all the child characters instantly become boring when they grow up, don’t they.

Then Mary starts gasping in pain, and we realize mawkishness might not have been the only reason for her fishy expression.

She rushes inside, crying for Hester-Sue.

DAGNY: Oh good, Hester-Sue will know what to do.

Hester-Sue calmly gets Mary to lie down and says she’s going to get the doctor.

WILL: Don’t you think every building in town should have a horn to blow to summon Doc?

A little time passes then, and we see Doc and Ma coming down the stairs from Mary’s room. They look sad, and David Rose is working his tragic magic.

Doc tells the assembled family members Mary’s gonna be okay, but the baby didn’t make it.

DAISY: What’s this one rated?

WILL: Seven-plus.

DAISY: That’s surprising.

WILL: They just pull the ratings out of a hat, I think.

Ma and Pa hold each other, whilst Giles Kendall looks for someone to blame.

WILL: Is he gonna sue Doc?

DAGNY: Yeah, it’s like The Sweet Hereafter.

Kendall says Mary was fine at dinner the night before.

WILL: Hey, who drank that wine? Just the dad and Adam? Or does Mary drink?

DAGNY: I’m sure she had some, at least to be polite. They didn’t know pregnant women shouldn’t back then.

DAISY: I’m sure Ma drank it too. Didn’t I read someplace she was a laudanum addict?

I’ve heard that too.

WILL: Well, it probably happened BECAUSE Mary drank that wine.

DAISY: Oh my God, yes! The wine was so good, it killed her baby!

Doc reassures everyone that Mary is capable of having more children.

Adam goes in to see her, and Kendall Senior asks if the baby was a boy.

DAGNY: This show is obsessed with that.

Doc gives Kendall kind of a funny look, then nods.

Kendall walks out, and Doc gives Charles and Caroline sad parting words.

DAISY [as DOC]: “Could have been worse. At least the baby didn’t burn to death, ha ha!”

After the commercial, Boobilicious Ma feeds Mary some of her Miracle Soup.

Then the two reenact the guess-who’s-going-to-Iowa scene from “I’ll Be Waving as You Drive Away.”

DAGNY: Mary has a breaking point. It’s a consistent part of her character.

DAISY: Yeah, she doesn’t handle crises well.

WILL: She did okay in the dust storm.

“HOW MUCH MORE DO I HAVE TO TAKE?” Mary screams in a sudden close-up.

WILL: Just wait, sister.

DAISY: Yeah, buckle up, baby!

DAGNY: God’s, like, “Hold my beer.”

It is a fair question. Even casual viewers of this show are familiar with the brutality it heaps upon this character; I can’t tell you how many people have brought it up with me. 

My understanding is it started a little bit as revenge on Melissa Sue Anderson for not getting along with Radames Pera – you understand I don’t like to spread gossip – but from this point on, Landon is clearly just enjoying himself coming up with dire-er and dire-er fates for her. 

I think the archetype of the tragic woman, popular in Nineteenth-Century operas and novels, isn’t liked by feminists because it depicts women as powerless victims. 

I understand that, but as someone with an inherently negative cast of mind, I think punishing a character in a work of art is a great way to criticize the forces responsible for doing the same in life. I’ve always viewed the tragic “dying-diva” operas as social commentary rather than feeling they want us to see women as weak, exactly. 

I think the same thing applies here, because Mary’s tragedy almost immediately serves to reveal Giles Kendall’s true selfish nature, but I’m getting ahead again.

Mary says Ma can’t possibly understand what she’s going through.

DAGNY: Sure she can. She had a baby that died too.

In a well-acted moment from Grassle, Caroline silently considers a few options for responding to this, but ultimately she just leaves quietly.

Then we see Adam sitting glumly as all the blind kids file out of class. Caroline comes in and says Mary’s still having attitude problems.

Rather un-nicely, Adam says Maybe if we leave for New York TODAY, she’ll feel better! (Paraphrase.)

Caroline says these things are decided by men.

Then we see Mary sitting up in front of a food tray, but not eating. Little Eli comes in.

WILL: What is she wearing, Adam’s dad’s robe?

Mary tries to send her tray back down with him, but Eli says actually he isn’t even supposed to be up here, so he can’t take it. (He’s quick on his feet.)

Mary tries to get rid of him, but Little Eli says he’s going to make a speech. He offers Mary formal condolences, then goes on to say he’d happily serve as surrogate son to her.

He says, “I know I’m not a baby no more, but you can’t see me, so you could pretend like I was. You know when I told you about my sister? And I know my mama didn’t want me. Well, since I came here, I’ve been wishing you were my mama. So I thought since we both needed somebody so bad, we could both pretend.” 

WILL [as MARY, screaming:] “SHUT UP!!!!!”

Weeping, Mary hugs him.

Then Adam finds his father packing in his room. So I guess he is staying there.

Adam says regardless of the tragedy, they’d still like to come to New York with him.

But Giles suddenly says he’s not so sure law school is a great place to bring a wife, as they cramp both studying and social style.

DAGNY: This is just like a Gilded Age plot.

Adam tersely reminds Giles that Mary is part of their family now.

WILL: Shouldn’t they go outside to have this conversation?

DAISY: Yeah. Mary’s hearing would be very sharp.

Getting angry, Adam demands to know why his dad’s view of the matter is so different than it was before.

“It was the child,” Adam says, jabbing at his father (not literally) to get him to confess all he wanted was a normal child at last.

WILL: That’s a callback to “The Winoka Warriors,” where he’s screaming in the dad’s face. 

DAISY: Yeah! “SAY IT! SAY IT! I CAN’T STAND TO LOOK AT MY SON!”

“All right, yes, yes!” Giles admits. He can’t be much of a lawyer if he gave in that easily.

Feeling around, Adam sleuths that Giles is preparing to sneak off.

WILL: He’s kind of like Mrs. Garrett’s dad.

DAISY: On The Facts of Life?

WILL: No, on Deadwood.

DAGNY: Yeah, the one Seth Bullock beats the shit out of.

Adam makes to go, then turns and says with disgust, “You still can’t stand to look at me, can you?”

DAISY: See?

Pleased with this zinger, Adam smirks and says, “Goodbye, Father.” As some readers have observed, there can be an unpleasant edge to his character at times.

DAISY: What happened to Adam’s mom?

WILL: Probably drowned in the same incident that blinded Adam.

Then we see Mary, fully dressed, booting up in fact, in her room. Adam comes in.

Mary says she’s ready to go back to the normal routine, saying she wants to spend as much time as possible with the students before they leave.

His voice breaking, Adam says, “There’s no hurry.”

DAISY: He’s really upset.

Then Adam says he’s decided they should stay at the Oleson Institute and not go. He says he told his dad they weren’t coming.

DAISY [as MARY:] “You idiot!”

But no, Mary breaks into a smile, which of course Adam can’t see.

She begins carp-mouthing again, and says, “That’s what I’ve wanted all along!”

WILL: So he lied about what happened, just like she lied about being happy they were going.

DAGNY: Yeah. The moral of the story is, lie to your spouse, it works out fine.

Then Mary starts yelling about “the sound of my children,” just to get the title in, and Adam embraces her. They both cry.

In an epilogue, then, we hear Thomas the Blond Freckle-Faced Moppet wrongly guessing the answer to a social-studies question. 

Bum-Bum-Ba-Dum!

STYLE WATCH: Miss Bennett wears a cool billowy skirt.

Adam puts on a bonnie red tie to greet his father.

Charles appears to go commando again (and sweats through his pants).

THE VERDICT: 

DAGNY: This could have been a really good episode where Ma helped Mary through the trauma because she also lost a baby. I don’t know why they would focus on this bullshit with Adam’s dad instead.

WILL: Yeah. That and Little Eli.

I don’t know why either. It’s true the cast is good (especially Boomer) and it’s a watchable enough story, but the final confrontation between the Kendalls doesn’t amount to much, and the Missy Elliot plot is a complete dud. Not the hard-hitting drama it could/ought to have been.

UP NEXT: The Lake Kezia Monster