“Darkness is My Friend”

A House Call From Chuck Baker; or

Does Pa Sneak Some Morphine Home for Albert?

(a recap by Will Kaiser)

Title: “Darkness is My Friend” [sic]

Airdate: January 21, 1980

Written by Vince R. Gutierrez

Directed by Michael Landon

SUMMARY IN A NUTSHELL: When the Blind School is invaded by murderers, Mary, Laura, and Pa play a dangerous game of cat-and-mouse. Featuring TV’s Jonathan Banks.

(Trigger warning: Mr. Penguin Man dies in this story.)

RECAP:

First things first. We were sad to hear the news of Gil Gerard‘s passing. 

Gerard must be credited for a major contribution to the legend and legacy of this show. That would be true even if that contribution was only inspiring fans to make hot-handyman jokes, which of course it wasn’t. Thank you and so long, Unky Chris!

You can check out our recap of “The Handyman,” incidentally my favorite story from Season Four, here.

WILL: I’m glad you kids are back from school.

ROMAN: Yeah. I’m sure you got complaints every week while we were gone.

OLIVE: Yeah. “When are the funny ones coming back?”

DAGNY: Oh, haw haw.

Roman pressed play.

WILL: What’s the matter with you, Roman! Back it up so we hear the whole theme! We have to hear the horn! 

ROMAN: Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I forgot, Stepfather.

This week we open on a wagon being pulled by a four-horse team. 

OLIVE: I like that horse’s little white feeties. I’m going to call him Sox.

(I know it’s early for asides, but I would just remind you that Olive once got a joke published in Blaze: The Magazine for Horse-Crazy Kids.)

DAGNY: Look at the horses’ breath. That’s real cold. Where the hell are they? It looks freezing.

We’ll deal with that question in a moment.

Dags and I also both assumed this wagon was a hearse, like in Oliver! 

But, it isn’t.

Then we see there are three men in irons inside the vehicle. It’s a paddywagon. 

We don’t get a good look at the guys. Well, one of them looks a little familiar. 

OLIVE: Is that Almanzo?

ROMAN: Yeah. He got sick of being called “Zaldamo” and finally killed Mrs. Oleson.

All this time David Rose has been giving us a swaggering melody that makes me think of gunslingers, or perhaps medieval knights.

We can make out buildings of a sort in the background. A prison?

But when the guards lead the chained men into one of the buildings, we see it’s actually a train station.

The Train Conductor from last week who looks like Carl Gottlieb goes over some paperwork with a guard. (So we’re in Springfield?)

Not-Carl Gottlieb is complaining about having to transport criminals. But Guard #1 says he has no rights and must comply.

The guard says there’s a whole squadron of men onboard to make sure the convicts don’t escape.

“Remember,” he adds, “we’re only going as far as Sleepy Eye.”

(You might recognize this actor from another story, but probably not. I didn’t, at least, and never would have in a million years.)

(He’s J.S. “Joe” Young, who played McCabe, the cranky but kindly one-eyed peddler who helps Laura et al. get to California in “The Odyssey”!)

(Did you recognize him? I thought not! I almost feel like I shouldn’t use the Identical Twins (?) tag, but technically, I guess I should.)

Guard #1 explains that in Sleepy Eye, the prisoners will transfer to another train – no doubt headed to Stillwater, Minnesota’s sorta famous maximum-security prison. (It’s mentioned in Coen Brothers movies, anyways.) 

Located twenty miles northeast of the Twin Cities, the Stillwater Territorial Prison was built in 1853. 

It’s where Frank and Jesse James’s collaborators the Younger Brothers were imprisoned after the gang’s disastrous raid on the First National Bank in Northfield, which set into motion the events of “The Aftermath” (an episode this one resembles (but is much better than)).

We get our first good look at the incarcerees then, sitting on the floor in a train car. 

DAGNY: Oh my God, is this a fighting one? It IS, isn’t it?

WILL: You remember it?

DAGNY: No, but I just had a vision of Charles beating the shit out of all three of these guys. 

WILL: Well, we’ll see.

DAGNY: I can’t wait!

One of the as-yet-unbeaten men we recognize as Larry Golden, who’s making his fourth appearance on the show.

First he was the wormy loser who refused to ship blastin’ oil across the state in “The Long Road Home.”

Then he was the nice if wormy minister who befriended our protagonists in Newton, Dakota Territory (“Gold Country”).

Finally, he was the wormy but not nice Jud Lar[r]abee crony who voted to convict his friend (“Barn Burner“).

With this appearance, Golden joins an elite Four-Timer Club that also includes Eddie Quillan, Bill Quinn and the inimitable E.J. André.

(I think that’s it for the Four-Timer Club, but do let me know if I forgot anybody.)

The train – the ubiquitous Number Three, of course – takes off. The station, we see, is not Springfield’s, but rather the one in Caldwell, Idaho, where Pa, Laura and Albert made a pitstop on their journey to San Francisco! (A lot of “Odyssey” callbacks this week.)

(Not Carl-Gottlieb must have displeased the railroad company and been banished from Minnesota to the Territories.)

Caldwell is a rough town. Last time we visited it, we saw two men stealing a horse nearby. 

And incredibly, the same duo is at it again today!

Weirdly, the train heads west, which is the opposite direction from Minnesota. But it was probably rerouted due to a rockslide or something. I accept it. It is Idaho.

Meanwhile, back in Groveland, Mustache Man is chauffeuring J.C. Fusspot’s Visiting Sister to the Harriet Oleson Institute for the Advancement of Blind Children.

There are some other vehicles in the yard, as well as a number of people wandering about.

Inside, Hester-Sue is coming down the stairs with Blind School Princess Leia and Not-Little Eli. 

Apparently, someone’s going on some kind of journey. Mary and her pair of Adams are posed goodbye-ishly, and in the background, Not-Quincy is being fussed over by (I assume) his Rather Beautiful Mother.

Mary says she wishes she and Baby Adam could join Big Adam on the trip he’s taking with “Ma and Hester-Sue and Mrs. Oleson.” (Where on earth could this random foursome be going together?)

OLIVE: That is a hideous baby.

WILL: I said that the minute he was born.

Mary says Big Adam has been summoned by “the state board” – not sure what this means. 

Baby Adam yawns.

OLIVE: Aw, I take back saying he was ugly.

WILL: Yeah, that was cute.

(I’m not comfortable ID-ing the baby actor. There’s a lot of talk online about his name being “Nicholas Corney,” but I see no real evidence for it out there. Again, cards and letters welcome.)

(Don’t worry about it too much, though. He does have just two episodes to live. Spoilers.)

Apparently, the Oleson Institute is applying for a state grant, which requires accreditation that the school doesn’t yet have. (Okay . . . and Ma’s going along why? For eye candy?)

For this “state accreditation,” they only need go as far as Redwood Falls (whatever). 

OLIVE: I don’t think Melissa Sue is that good of an actress.

WILL: Arrgh, oh my God, Olive! I am not putting that in! I’m sure that’s why Dean Butler won’t give us an interview.

OLIVE: What? Why?

WILL: Because you said “I don’t think he’s that good-looking”!

(Well, I’d just point out that MSA has an Emmy nomination and three Best Actress Groovies under her belt, which is far more than Olive Kaiser has!)

(Seriously, anytime, Dean and Melissa. You really are that good-looking and talented. Anytime!)

Mary and Adam do a weird little gender-swapped goodbye.

Big Adam then kisses Mary. Rather, um, hungrily, actually.

OLIVE: Oh my God.

DAGNY: Charles doesn’t even kiss Caroline like that.

ROMAN: Yeah. I’m not sure Linwood Boomer is acting.

WILL: And while holding the baby. Neil Gaiman much, Kendall?

Ma catches them mid-snog.

Mrs. O then arrives on foot, followed by Nels, who carries a gigantic trunk on his shoulders.

Mrs. Oleson unnecessarily explains that they’ve lent their buckboard to Doc Baker. (Something wrong with the ol’ phaeton? Or maybe his horse is sick? I seem to remember an episode where his horse had a medical name like “Hippocrates,” or maybe it was “Hippocampus.” But I may have dreamt it. I’ve been doing this nonstop for five years, people.)

They load up J.C. Fusspot’s buckboard; apparently J.C. will be piloting this mission himself. (As he’s Not-Quincy’s uncle, one can understand him taking a personal interest.)

Ma and Hester-Sue immediately get into an argument with Mrs. Oleson about how much luggage she’s bringing. 

Nels ultimately solves the problem by dropping the trunk and spilling all of Harriet’s dresses into the mud.

Nels is really rather mean here, implying the real reason Harriet has a trunk is because she’s an elephant. (Fat Joke #50!)

DAGNY: Nels really is an incurable weight-ist. Poor Annabelle was right to run away with the circus.

Despite my theory he and Harriet had “relations” last week, or maybe not despite it, Nels is of course four stories away from a controversial plot we’ll discuss . . . well, four stories from now.

We then cut to Charles helping Adam to the buckboard as he comically recaps the trunk incident.

WILL: Are they just going to put a bag over Adam’s head every time they cross a stream?

Mustache Man sits in another buckboard behind the one they’ve loaded up. (Why are there so many vehicles there to see them off?) 

Charles then helps Mrs. O aboard, and she in turn commands Mr. Fusspot to drive already.

WILL: This guy’s in practically every episode, but she doesn’t know his name?

Perhaps more surprising than this – to you, I mean, not to me – is that while he’s in every three episodes (practically Carl/Mustache Man territory), I don’t know the actor’s name! Since I haven’t solved the mystery, I think it’s time to appeal to you readers: Does anyone know who he is?

(If I may make a confession here, I’ll say that of all the characters to whom I gave nicknames I sorely regret – and there are a few – J.C. Fusspot tops the list.)

(I called him “Johnny Cash Fusspot” upon first noticing him, because on that occasion he was wearing all black and sitting next to little Quincy Fusspot in church. His hairstyle also resembled the young Cash’s a bit.)

(Unfortunately, Johnny Cash Fusspot repaid my thoughtful nickname-giving by never wearing black again. And since he’s not particularly fussy-looking either, he’d be my own personal choice for least appropriately-nicknamed character. Oh well, can’t take it back now, so T.S., J.C.!)

Well, the buckboard takes off. Since Redwood Falls is a full day’s drive away, I think we can assume they’ll be gone at least three days.

Quite cutely, then, Pa turns to Mary and says, “Come on, let’s go feed our babies!”

Even more cutely, he then turns to Baby Grace and whispers, “You got your cuppy?”

I don’t know that we’ve ever seen any engagement whatsoever between Mary and her sister Grace to this point in the series, unless you count them being in the back of the wagon together during the trip to Winoka.

It may seem odd that Baby Adam has an aunt who’s also a baby, but it’s not that uncommon amongst people with large family. My mom is the youngest of ten siblings, and her eldest niece is actually older than she is!

Anyways, meanwhile, the Number Three chugs along. It also may seem odd these criminals are being brought all the way to Minnesota from Idaho Territory, but I suppose there’s no law out there, and after all Minnesota could be where they committed their crimes.

Inside the train, two armed guards sit with the prisoners. 

Not-Almanzo asks the guards to unchain them so they can sleep. 

The guard, a square-looking man with a dark mustache, is dubious, but immediately agrees.

(On Little House, there are no small roles, only tremendously accomplished small actors. Wayne Grace, who plays Guard #2, was on Wonder Woman, Fantasy Island, Father Murphy, Square One TV, Matlock, three Star Treks (Next Gen, Deep Space Nine and Enterprise), Dr. Quinn, Seinfeld andThe X-Filesand in Robert Altman’s McCabe & Mrs Miller, Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter (if only!), The Running Man, Twins, Dances With Wolves, and David Lynch’s Mulholland Drive.)

The third convict, a dark-haired young man, lifts his handcuffs to be released.

ROMAN: Now, he looks like Jonathan Banks.

WILL: Who?

ROMAN: Mike Ehrmantraut on Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul.

WILL: Who?

ROMAN: The deputy in Gremlins.

WILL: Oh, yeah! He was great! This isn’t him, though.

Actually, yes it is! (Hey, I never claimed to be a crack Little House guest-star-recognizer.)

Jonathan Banks got his acting start in a delightful sex-ed PSA from 1974 called “Linda’s Film on Menstruation.” 

Banks plays a well-meaning high-school kid whose girlfriend must explain to him that menstruating is no big whup. 

He gets to deliver a line destined for immortality, if it hasn’t already achieved it:

“Who woulda thought it? Just seven short days ago, there I was, an innocent dumbbell kid. Now here I am, able to buy sanitary napkins without flinching!”

The short film, worth watching in its entirety, ends with the two young people wondering if the Statue of Liberty is pregnant, or simply bloated from PMS. (God, I miss the Twentieth Century sometimes.)

You’d think any actor’s career could only go downhill from there, and perhaps you’d be right, but Banks beat the odds to become a terrifically busy actor who still works plenty today. (In fact, he had a regular role in this year’s The Beast in Me, which Dagny just watched.)

Apart from the aforementioned roles, he probably is best known as a regular on Wiseguy.

Moviewise, he appeared in The Rose, Airplane!, Stir Crazy, 48 Hrs., Buckaroo Banzai and Beverly Hills Cop, and he did a voice in Incredibles 2.

On TV, he acted on Barnaby Jones, The Waltons, Lou Grant, T.J. Hooker, Hill Street Blues, Matthew Labyorteaux’s Whiz Kids, Simon & Simon, Hardcastle and McCormick, Falcon Crest, Perry Mason(TV movies only), DS9, Tales From the Crypt, Due South (a favorite of Dagny’s – it’s about a Canadian Mountie), Diagnosis: Murder, Alias, CSI, Dexter, Modern Family, Two and a Half Men, Parks and Rec, and Community.

DAGNY: It really is him. He’s so handsome!

We also get a look at Guard #3, who I think might be Mr. Penguin Man.

(Mr. Penguin Man, obviously, was nicknamed for his resemblance to a penguin.)

Larry Golden gets unchained next; then it’s Not-Almanzo’s turn.

WILL [as HANNIBAL LECTER]: “Ready when you are, Sergeant Pembry.”

But before his bonds are even off, Not-A gets Guard #2 in a stranglehold.

Mr. Penguin Man, who unfortunately does not get a credit, fires his shotgun into Larry Golden – but then Jonathan Banks seizes #2’s pistol and shoots Mr. PM in the head.

ROMAN: My God, it’s No Country for Old Men.

WILL: Yeah, or Assault on Precinct 13.

DAGNY: I was thinking The Fugitive.

I have to say, the murder of one of our regular supporting Grovesters was not what I expected when I approached this story. It’s never happened before. (Some characters have gone blind.)

But I don’t make the rules, people. R.I.P., Mr. Penguin Man.

Up at the front of the train, the engineer (it’s Ben Slick’s Identical Twin Who’s Workin’ on the Railroad, if you remember him), blows the whistle.

Not-Almanzo demands the key from #2, who, again, makes a half-hearted protest but then hands it over.

Not-Almanzo grins.

WILL: Actually, he looks like Micky Dolenz from The Monkees.

The train chugs along through its cold-weather landscape. I think we can assume we’ve picked up where we left off last time, in the late fall of 1881-M.

DAGNY: Boy, it looks like winter.

ROMAN: Maybe there’ll be an avalanche like in Murder on the Orient Express.

Back inside, Larry Golden grimaces in anguish as Jonathan Banks (addressing him as “Abel”) comforts and caresses him.

WILL: Are they brothers, or . . . 

DAGNY: . . . just close?

Jonathan Banks snarls at Not-Almanzo/Micky Dolenz that Abel can’t jump from the train with a leg full of shot.

It’s unclear if Guard #2 is still alive.

Guard #1, of course, still is. He’s sitting with Not-Carl Gottlieb and bragging about his “perfect record” with prison transfers.

Hilariously, this blowhard is simultaneously eating a sandwich and a large dill pickle.

OLIVE: That bread looks pretty processed for the olden days.

DAGNY: Yeah. Also, it’s been a while since we had somebody talk with their mouth full like this.

Not-Carl Gottlieb says he’s heard “the Brandywines” are a brutal gang, not to be underestimated, but Guard #1 scoffs, saying despite the big reward for their capture, they’re not any more dangerous than anybody else.

The Guard adds that he understands why the conductor would be anxious, not knowing the criminals were in the custody of a big tough clever man like himself. 

Then he demands another sandwich and pickle. Ha!

We see the train exterior again then. Apparently the convicts were (sensibly enough) locked in the caboose, which we can see Not-Almanzo Brandywine uncoupling from the other cars.

On the side of the caboose, we see the letters C, RI & PR. 

DAGNY: What is CRI & PR?

WILL: Chicago, Rock Island and Pacific Railroad. [I had to look it up, I didn’t just know that.]

WILL: You know what that means! It’s the same railroad as in The Music Man! [slowly, then speeding up:]

Cash for the merchandise! Cash for the buttonhooks!

Cash for the cotton goods, cash for the hard goods!

Cash for the fancy goods! Cash for the soft goods!

Cash for the noggins and the piggins and the firkins! . . .

DAGNY/OLIVE/ROMAN: [groaning]

I love “Rock Island,” the traveling salesman “rap” that opens The Music Man, and will perform the entire scene at the drop of a hat.

Anyways, I’m no master map-reader, but it appears it would not be impossible to take a train from Idaho Territory to Sleepy Eye, Minnesota, via the C, RI & PR in 1881, provided you didn’t mind taking an insane route through Wyoming Territory, Nebraska, and of course Iowa(y) first.

The caboose is left behind.

WILL: A lot of runaway cabooses on this show.

David Rose brings in his noble yet corrupted and tragic “swaggering” melody again.

WILL: Actually, this tune sounds like the theme from Dario Argento’s Phenomena.

ROMAN: It does. David should have sued Goblin for royalties.

Okay, our radar detects a ridiculous moment approaching fast.

Back at the Little House, thunder is a-rumblin’. (Odd for November.)

Laura has packed a carpetbag for a slumber party with Mary at the Institute.

DAGNY: Ooh, Laura’s hair is down. You can tell this is gonna be a special episode.

In Ma’s absence, Albert is cooking supper.

OLIVE: Albert’s so cute in that apron. He should be wearing one of Ma’s bonnets.

He’s frying pork chops in a pan whilst potatoes bake inside the stove.

Laura takes off, and as Albert sets the table, the baked potatoes explode.

You might be surprised, but this really can happen if you don’t poke vents into the potato skins before baking them. 

However, it goes without saying this is no ordinary baked-potato detonation. 

For this is a Michael Landon baked-potato detonation. 

Seriously, the doors, lids, sides and top of the stove all explode outward at once, quite hugely and with a loud bang. Watch it a few times – we did.

Not only does this catastrophe turn the potatoes into mush, it tips the coffee pot over into the frying pan.

Surveying the damage, Albert says, “Oh no,” and calls to Pa that “I think we’ll have mashed potatoes tonight. They go much better with the gravy.” 

OLIVE: Oh, did he poop his pants when it exploded? Is that what he means by “gravy”?

Albert dumps the “mashed” potatoes over the pork chops, which are now braising in coffee. You know, Laura’s cinnamon chicken gets a lot of attention as Season Six’s most memorable food disaster, but this is also a contender.

Back at the OI, Mary is tucking in some students, including Distraught Polly.

DAGNY: I always felt sorry for Mary.

ROMAN: Because she was blind?

DAGNY: No, because she had to put so many damn kids to bed.

One girl, “Kimmy,” is frightened by the thunder, but Mary reassures her it’s “God moving His furniture around.” (My friend Tim Pennyfeather used to scream “Zeus is ANGRY!” under similar circumstances.)

I can’t tell if we’ve ever seen this child before, because we can’t actually see her now.

WILL: Does she have no face? That’s quite eerie.

ROMAN: Yeah, or no mouth, like in the Twilight Zone movie?

Kim is played by Toni Mele, who has no other credits. (She appears to have gone on to a successful career in corporate crisis management, but you didn’t hear it from me.)

[UPDATE: Ignore what I said about corporate crisis management. As is so often the case, I didn’t know what I was talking about, and that was a different Toni Mele. Reader Ben writes that the real Toni Mele was a blind girl in France who loved Little House so much she wrote Michael Landon a fan letter, which he rewarded by giving her a part on the show! (Michael Landon did, I mean, not Ben.)]

[After doing a little digging, I am comfortable confirming this Little House Urban Legend to be TRUE. Here’s an image of a French article on Mele and Landon that was apparently published in a magazine at the time. Thanks, Ben! – WK]

Mary heads back to her own room, where the doomed Baby Adam is goo-goo-ga-ga-ing.

WILL [as MARY]: “Don’t worry, Baby. I would never let anything happen to you for two more episodes.”

There’s a knock at the door, and Mary heads down to unlock it.

It’s Laura, soaking from the pouring rain. (I find it hard to believe Pa would let her walk a mile in a storm, but whatever.)

Sensing the audience, who didn’t just fall off the Chonkywagon, doubts she’d lock her doors, Mary explains she only does so when Adam’s gone. (I still find this odd. In the middle of a rainstorm?)

The two sisters head to the kitchen, Mary saying, “Come on, let’s see what we can get to nibble on.”

DAGNY: “Let’s see if we can get the nipple on”?

OLIVE: Yeah. On Baby Adam’s cuppy.

Out in the storm, the three villains stagger into view.

OLIVE: Well, the rain on the left side of the screen looks good. . . .

Addressing the leader as “Jake,” Jonathan Banks says they need a doctor for Abel.

There was a Disney book I loved as a child called The Haunted House in which Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck mistake three robbers hiding out in a house for ghosts. I found it really scary as a tot! This story reminds me of it, a bit.

Abel himself notes he saw a sign pointing the way to a place called “Walnut Grove.” (Since the railroad nearest to Walnut Grove goes through Springfield, twenty-five miles away, I don’t know how they wound up here.)

Back at the Little House, a cow is inexplicably standing in the pouring rain in the farmyard.

You may assume it’s the KOW-1900, but you’d be wrong. 

In fact, the pattern of its hide matches that of Spot, the incredibly stupid cow who nearly caused Ma’s death in “A Matter of Faith.”

Of course that’s because we’re again getting reused footage, but for the purpose of my record-keeping we’ll assume this is actually Spot’s ghost. (You’ll recall Spot was killed and eaten by mad dogs in Season Four.)

But inside, matters are still comedic rather than ghostly. Albert serves his pork/potato/coffee creation, which Pa mistakes for “soup.”

Carrie gets off a zinger about the food. (Sadly, it isn’t “Oh, damn, is this good!”)

Pa takes a taste and begins “roasting” the meal himself, as it were.

DAGNY: Finally, something Albert doesn’t do perfectly.

Then Pa says what the hell, he’ll just make popcorn for their supper. (He’s such a fun dad.)

Bandit gets into the act too, reacting like the Berry Birds tasting the Purple Pieman’s kohlrabi cookies.

Back at the Oleson Institute, Laura and Mary are having a conversation that rivals their old go-the-fuck-to-sleep chats in its idiocy.

We see they’re also eating popcorn. A lot of non-sexual uses of popcorn this season. Perhaps Landon learned “popcorn” was becoming code for sex in the fan community and objected because it was a kids’ show? I know, I also think that’s unlikely. For multiple reasons.

The sisters take a walk down memory lane, rhapsodizing over the “crazy” events of “The Gift” and “The Camp-Out.” (Such callbacks are rare on the show.)

WILL [as MARY]: “And remember when Ellen died? Ha ha, what a day.”

Mary changes the subject to Almanzo.

OLIVE: I think Mary moving out improved their relationship.

Suddenly the door opens and a man in black bursts in.

DAGNY: Oh my God!

But it’s only Nels dressed in proper raingear.

WILL: Do you think Kezia left him her costume in her advance care plan?

ROMAN: He should rip off his mask and he’s not really Nels.

OLIVE: Yeah, he’s all three of the guys.

Nels says he just came to make sure the girls were okay. (I find it hard to believe he’d do that in this weather, but whatever.)

Then he tells a strange story about Nellie baking pies without cutting or peeling the apples. It’s a weird obsession of this show’s.

In fact, it’s surprising how often apples are misused or abused generally.

The minute Nels is gone, there’s another knock. Assuming Nels has come back for something, Laura opens the door – and Jake Brandywine bursts in and seizes her.

After a quick assessment (and threats of murder), Jake declares they need a bed for Abel. 

WILL [as OLIVE, whining]: “Why do you always put the people in MY room?”

This is a family joke. Olive has what a consensus of us considers the nicest bedroom in the house, and as a result it’s the one we offer up to overnight guests when we have them. Olive doesn’t love the practice.

Laura and Mary hesitate, but Jake starts shoving them, and they lead the men up the stairs.

Jonathan Banks – Jake addresses him as “Jed” – gets Abel onto a bed.

Mary tells Jake the only other people in the house are blind children, and after some internal struggling with that data he says, “So that’s what this place is? A school for blind kids, huh?”

OLIVE: Wow, he must be the smartest of the brothers.

Jake orders Laura to run to town and fetch a doctor, saying if she diverts from this mission, Mary dies.

With neither coat nor umbrella, Laura flees into the rain.

Back in the bedroom, we hear a baby gurgling, and realize Mary’s taken the Brandywines to her own, you know, boudoir.

Jake B peers into the cradle.

OLIVE [as JAKE BRANDYWINE]: “Boys, I found us some SUPPER!”

WILL: Oh my God, Olive. . . .

Clearly familiar with the birds and the bees, Jake seizes Mary by the throat and demands to know where the baby’s father is.

Mary forcefully denies Adam is hiding in the house somewhere.

DAGNY: Ma orgasms when she’s having a baby, and Mary orgasms when she’s screaming.

Jed Brandywine takes Mary into the hall to “lock up” all the children.

From her room, Kimmy asks Mary, “When is God going to stop moving His furniture?”

WILL [as MARY, screaming hysterically]: “THERE IS NO GOD!!!”

Kimmy, a canny kid, notices something amiss about Mary’s manner. (Try that five times fast.)

DAGNY: Ooh, is this like Home Alone, and the blind kids set a bunch of traps for the robbers?

Mary none-too-convincingly assures Kimmy everything’s fine.

OLIVE: Mary’s hair has never looked browner.

ROMAN: Yeah. When you go blind, your hair turns brown after two years.

Out in the storm, Laura reaches Doc’s office – at top speed in daylight, Laura could probably cover the ground in about seven minutes, but I expect it took twice as long in bad weather at night.

Unfortunately, Doc is not in.

DAGNY: Is he with Mr. Hanson?

WILL: What do you mean, at his grave?

DAGNY: Oh. I forgot.

Then we get some more comedy as we join Nels and Nellie in the Olesons’ living quarters.

Nels is trying to read the newspaper whilst Nellie plays the piano and singing “warmup” arpeggios.

(We see in the paper that the commitment-averse Gaylord has quit once again.) 

(With this appearance, Gaylord also joins the Little House Four-Timer Club!)

Anyways, Alison Arngrim’s vocalizations here deserve special comment. Their grating quality comes not so much from her being out of tune, though of course she is. 

No, it’s more that she switches octaves back and forth, from her normal speaking range up into soprano head-voice territory the likes of which only Mado Robin, Yma Sumac, Mariah Carey, and a handful of others have visited and lived. 

WILL: Wouldn’t Nellie live at the hotel by this time?

DAGNY: Yeah. But it doesn’t have a piano.

ROMAN: The guests don’t know what they’re missing.

Anyways, Nels is rolling his eyes when he hears a pounding at the door.

It’s Laura, who’s soaking wet (again) and looking for Doc.

But Nels tells her Doc is “having supper” with somebody named “Annie Pearson.” A date? Perhaps – we know Doc swings both ways, and after all it’s been about eighteen years (LHUT) since Mr. Hanson died.

The Pearson name is famous in Minnesota as the maker of Pearson’s Salted Nut Roll. Perhaps Annie is some ancestor of the company‘s founders? She does know how to cook, apparently.

Nels mentions again that Doc has borrowed the Olesons’ buckboard. At first I struggled to see the significance of this detail, but I suppose if he did have a vehicle she could just drive it to the Old Pearson Place herself.

(Even so, why doesn’t she just go steal another horse from the livery?)

Nels is puzzled to learn Laura came on foot on a stormy night to inform Doc that Mary has a stomachache – strangely, one so mild she tells Nels not to worry about it.

Nevertheless, kindly Nels gets her some seltzer powder.

WILL: Come on, Nels, Harriet’s gone, you can break out the hard stuff you have hidden in the back room.

DAGNY: Nah. Nellie would tattle.

Actually, in a strange departure from her normal character, Nellie shows zero interest in Laura or her situation.

Laura returns to the Oleson Institute empty-handed, or seltzer-powder-handed I suppose. 

But then she whispers “Pa” to herself, yields to temptation, and runs off again into the night.

Strangely, as she goes, we see some sort of shiny cylindrical object rolling across of the front yard, seemingly under its own steam.

I can’t for the life of me tell what it is. Its shape and the way it rolls suggests a can of Poppin’ Fresh dough, or something.

[UPDATE: Reader Ben quite logically points out this is probably Nels’s seltzer powder!]

At the Little House, Albert is reading Carrie a bedtime story.

WILL [as CARRIE, slurping]: “This wall looks like shit.” 

It’s James Whitcomb Riley’s famous horror poem “Little Orphant Annie.”

“Little Orphant Annie” has nothing to do with the famous Little Orphan Annie character we’ve all come to know and love/loathe.

In our actual universe, the poem wasn’t published until 1885, though. (Albert’s copy appears to be an 1892 edition illustrated by Ethel Franklin Betts.)

With Carrie tucked in, and apparently not yet having had enough “gravy,” Albert joins Pa at the table for a little coffee.

DAGNY: You can tell Landon just dyed his hair.

But the bro-ish vibe in the Common Room is destroyed when Laura bursts in screaming.

After a brief summary, Laura says, “Pa, they said if I told anybody they were at the school, I’d never see Mary alive again!” 

WILL [as PA, screaming]: “What? Then why the hell did you???”

OLIVE: Yeah, they should hear distant gunshots.

Pa and Laura head back into the night to address the situation. (Take that, Albert.)

WILL: Did Pa just say “One of you’s adopted”?

ROMAN: No. “One of ’em needs a doctor.”

WILL: Oh. Works either way.

Next we see Laura and Pa back at Doc’s. You’d think they’d take the Chonkywagon, since it’s two miles back to town – but we see no indication they have.

Pa kicks in the door and immediately comes back with Doc’s medical bag.

WILL: I doubt Doc ever goes anywhere without his bag.

ROMAN: This is a spare. He probably told Charles, “Now, I have an extra bag in my office, feel free to break in if you ever need it.”

DAGNY: He probably did. As town social worker, he’d need to know where to look in an emergency. It makes sense.

They head straight to the OI, where they’re admitted by Jed Brandywine.

He asks what took so long, and indeed, even if they took the Chonkies, it’s probably been at least an hour and a half since Laura left.

Laura does that wonderful thing people do where you state a truth that obscures rather than reveals. (She’d make a good PR person.)

Jed takes them up to Mary’s room, where Pa introduces himself as Dr. Hiram Baker.

OLIVE: This is a terrible idea.

Mary, smooth as ever, whips her head around when she hears Pa’s voice.

Pa doesn’t exactly look the part.

ROMAN: He could have at least put a suit on.

OLIVE: Yeah, and his shirt’s awfully wet. He should take it off now.

DAGNY: Is he gonna speak like he’s more educated than he is?

WILL: Yeah, he should talk in Latin, like when Despina pretends to be the doctor in Così fan tutte.

Jake Brandywine directs “Doc Baker” to Abel’s leg.

Pa moves to the bed, greeting Mary more or less as Doc would, and considers Abel’s injury.

Chuck Baker demands that all the lamps in the house be brought to this room so he can operate.

OLIVE: Why do they even have lamps? It’s a blind school.

WILL: I think we’ve made that joke before.

Apologies for any repetitions. As I said, we’ve been doing this for five years!

ROMAN: He’s not a doctor! Will he even know how to open that bag?

Chuck gets out a big can of ether and anesthetizes Abel.

DAGNY: Ether! Just like on Severance.

WILL: I was thinking [as MICHAEL CAINE:] “Goodnight, you princes of Maine! . . .”

OLIVE: Yeah. Either way, do you think Pa’s gonna sneak some morphine home for Albert?

The label on the ether can features instructions (curiously, they don’t seem to be written in old-timey style) and bears the brand R&H Co. Manufacturing Chemists (fictional).

Back at the Olesons’, Nellie has moved on to “Home on the Range” – a favorite of her mother’s too.

WILL: The comedy subplots always seem so strange when it’s a horror story.

DAGNY: Well, it’s because it’s a kids’ show. If it was scary the whole time, that would be too much for the kids.

Neither the melody nor the chords are correct; in fact, Nellie appears to be trying to figure the song out on her own. Admirable, in its way.

Nels tries to get Nellie to stop with an offer of tea, but she says Harriet told her hot liquids harm the vocal cords.

“Better your cords than my ears,” Nels mutters.

“What was that, Father?” Nellie asks.

“I said, you better take care of your cords, my dear,” Nels says. Ha! That’s my favorite Rappin’ Nels moment so far, I think.

Doc Baker – the real Doc Baker – appears at the door.

Doc apparently stopped by to return the Olesons’ buckboard and then walk home in the pouring rain, even though Nels obviously has no need for it, and says so.

Nels reports Mary’s “stomachache,” and Doc says he’ll head to the OI shortly. (On foot? In this weather? Even though Nels just said he doesn’t need the buckboard back? As entertaining as this story is – and I will tell you now I love this one – it’s got a number of contrivances that are harder to swallow than usual.)

Nellie starts singing again, and Doc passively insults her.

Back at the Institute, we see there’s only one light burning. It just occurred to me: do you suppose this is the room? We’ll have to wait and see, I guess.

(Actually, I couldn’t wait. “May We Make Them Proud” never shows us which window Alice Garvey is battering through, just that it’s a window. Evidence inconclusive, but since it was Mary’s bedroom Alice became trapped in, I think we can assume this is in fact the same room. )

At Abel’s bedside, Chuck Baker says Abel will need to be restrained for his own safety during the procedure.

Then there’s another knock at the door. It’s the real Doc Baker!

WILL: Now it’s turning into Noises Off.

Realizing what’s happened, Jake Brandywine screams for Jed.

But before Jed can answer, Pa knocks him out cold.

While Jake is distracted, Mary lets Doc in – but Jake just gives him a face full of gun-butt.

Upstairs, Pa orders Laura to turn off the lights and lock the door. I mean, once he’s exited. (He’d leave her there with both other Brandywines? In the dark?)

Pa creeps down the stairs with Jed’s revolver.

But Jake B seizes Mary as a hostage.

He tells Pa if he doesn’t throw down his gun, he’ll shoot Mary in the face.

A crack marksman like Buster Scruggs or the Brigadier from Doctor Who might have a chance in this situation, but Pa is clearly unaccustomed to handguns.

“HELP ME, PA!” Mary screams uselessly.

DAGNY: I hate how helpless the women always are in these stories.

“Paw, is it?” Jake says. (He pronounces it like paw.)

“Well, Paw,” he says with an ugly smirk, “what’s it gonna be?”

Like Timothy Wead and Tod Thompson a few stories ago, James McIntire is extremely unpleasant in his villainous role here. (I mean, clearly he’s meant to be.)

McIntire was also in Death Hunt, Good Morning, Vietnam, Outrageous Fortune and Road House – that last one was a favorite of John Pima’s – and on The Dukes of Hazzard and The Jeffersons.)

Well, unable to take the risk, Pa tosses his gun to the floor.

OLIVE: It should have gone off and shot Mary.

Then Jake says he’s going to kill Pa, only Mary screams and shoves him. (Shoves Jake, that is, not Pa.)

OLIVE: Now, why didn’t she kick him in the balls?

WILL: In “Freedom Flight,” she did.

Jake’s gun goes off, but both Pa and Mary have escaped.

OLIVE: So . . . wouldn’t the blind kids be, like, “Hey, what’s with the gunfire?”

ROMAN: Yeah. I hope there weren’t any on the other side of that wall.

Now, as I said, I love this story, but this is the part where I realize it probably didn’t come off as they wanted. 

The whole idea of a cat-and-mouse game in the dark is thrilling, but filming it for television in 1980 must have been another story, and unfortunately, it just never looks very dark in the Institute. At all. 

It’s a very exciting episode, but the whole “Darkness is My Friend” concept doesn’t quite work. It sort of deflates the whole concept if it isn’t actually dark, you see.

No matter. Up in the bedroom, Jed Brandywine comes to and gropes for Laura. (In the “dark.”)

WILL: This is like when Sarah is in the TARDIS and the Exxilon sneaks up on her.

But Laura just smashes a large vase over his head. 

DAGNY: Good job, Laura! I withdraw my statement about the helpless women.

ROMAN: Yeah. Does she dress up like Jonathan Banks now?

Meanwhile, Jake creeps around on the second floor hunting for Paw.

OLIVE: So there’s not a single child making noise?

Hiding in some ill-defined room, Pa notices the doorknob starting to turn.

DAGNY: Oh, this is just like that time we went to the lighthouse.

This is one of my favorite Dagny stories. Once she and I were touring a lighthouse, and we were wandering through the “house” part of it, which had been turned into a museum.

I went into one room and Dagny into another. The room she chose had an open closet, which was quite empty.

So Dagny did what any good wife would do. She hid in the closet in the hopes of springing out and terrifying me upon my entrance.

But things did not go as planned. 

Little did she know that two middle-aged ladies who were also exploring the museum – I think they were a couple, actually – would enter the room before I did.

Now, I’m sure you’re picturing our beloved Dags leaping out and scaring the two poor ladies, but that didn’t actually happen.

What did was even funnier.

Inside the closet, Dagny could hear their voices and realized she needed to abort. All she could do was wait until they finished in the room and left.

Then one of the women said, “I wonder what’s in here?” – and the closet doorknob began to turn.

What would you have done, reader? 

Well, if you were Dagny, you would have seized the knob from the inside and pulled as hard as she could to prevent the door from opening.

“It’s stuck!” the lady said.

So, the other lady also did what any good wife would do. She joined her partner in pulling on the damned doorknob.

Dags held out for a while, but eventually the ladies’ strength was too much for her. The door flew open, Dagny flew out, and all three of them shrieked – quite loudly.

In another room, looking at an exhibit about the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald or whatever it was, I heard the shriek and just shook my head and wondered what on earth she’d gotten herself into now.

Everybody in the museum came running, Dags explained everything (or tried to), and peace once again reigned. 

The two ladies were not very nice about it, though. Some people have no sense of humor.

Anyways, in this case Jake Brandywine seems to give up pretty easily. One might call him a regular Gaylord, in fact.

Only he is in fact no Gaylord, because when Pa sneaks over to the door, Jake shoots him through it!

TUTTI: Oh my God!

Yes, there Pa lies covered in his own blood.

Out in the hall, Jake Brandywine hears Kimmy yelling for Mary. He seems to be considering something I don’t even want to think about for a moment, but then turns and walks away from the door.

Still Pa lies motionless.

WILL [singing]: Bum-bum-ba-dum . . . bum-ba-dum . . . 

Commercial.

OLIVE: What are we having for supper? Olive hungee.

WILL: Since when do you talk like that?

OLIVE: Third person, you know, like Poirot.

WILL: Poirot doesn’t talk like that.

OLIVE: Sure he does. [as POIROT:] “Poirot hungee, me need me two eggs same size.”

We return to the Oleson Institute, which certainly looks dark from the outside.

Inside, however, there’s more of a 6:30 p.m. vibe.

Mary, who frankly is as dumb as a stump in this story, wanders around yelling for Pa, even though they’re trying to conceal their positions from Jake B.

She scurries away when she hears Jake coming down the stairs.

On the landing, Jake bumps the railing, which wobbles startlingly and is certainly not safe enough for a staircase frequented by blind people.

In the pit, David Rose gives us some scary/sneaky-sounding technical exercises on the piano.

Jake begins yelling for Mary to show herself.

An orange cat trots through the room. 

WILL: What! Since when is there a cat at the Blind School?

OLIVE: Mary should pick it up and throw it at him, like in Coraline.

If this was intended as a “cat scare,” the cat doesn’t seem too interested in participating. (So often the case.)

Jake wanders into the kitchen, which actually looks relatively dark, and where Mary is hiding behind a table.

DAGNY: Michael Landon loves shadows so much.

Jake appears to be looking right at her, but then the cat knocks a pitcher off the buffet (they will do it), and he reels around and shoots at it. (He misses, though.)

(If you look closely, you can see the string taped to the bottom of the pitcher.)

Upstairs, Laura starts screaming, and David Rose goes berserk at the piano.

DAGNY: David is really bringing it in this one.

WILL: He always does.

Downstairs, Mary runs to a different location, followed by Jake, as David gives us some music clearly inspired by John Carpenter’s Halloween score.

Jake starts opening the door to the room Mary’s in (pantry?), but she throws her body against it to keep it closed.

DAGNY: Lighthouse again.

But Jake gets in, and rather symbolically pokes Mary with his gunbarrel.

Then, in a moment that’s really beyond the pale for this show, he puts down his gun, grins, and begins advancing on Mary, actually licking his lips with lust. 

DAGNY: Oh my God.

And, as David gives us more serial-killer music, Mary screams and screams.

Only then Pa suddenly appears!

ALL: OH MY GOD!!!

He wraps his bloody arm around Jake’s neck and hurls him face-first into the corner of the kitchen table.

WILL: Ouch.

And then, in my personal favorite Chuck-fightin’ move, he seizes a kitchen chair and destroys it by bludgeoning it against his enemy.

Pa still has blood all over himself, but now it’s also gushing from the unconscious Jake Brandywine’s face.

Pa approaches Mary, who screams and fights until she realizes it’s him.

They embrace, and Laura joins them. 

WILL: Doc should suddenly come round the corner and they shoot him by mistake.

Laura says she tied up Jed Brandywine real good.

Mary goes to check the improbably silent children, and Laura finds Doc is regaining consciousness. 

OLIVE [as DOC]: “I’d say I’m all right . . . but that would be lame.”

WILL: It’s so good to have you back.

Actually, Doc wakes up crackin’ jokes himself, which seems unlikely, since he has no idea what the fuck is going on. 

But who cares, right? Laura hugs him, which is nice.

Upstairs, Kimmy, Polly, Blind School Princess Leia and an unknown girl – apparently the only children in the house tonight – are sniffling.

“We were so scared,” Kimmy says. (Sue Goodspeed must have been unavailable).

Well, the next morning (???), the grantseeking missionaries return in disappointment, as the Brandywines are loaded onto the original paddywagon, which must have hunted the gang through the night.

We see Abel Brandywine has survived. Maybe tying him to the bed stopped the bleeding.

Pa’s face is all a-bandaged.

ROMAN: Oh, he was shot in the FACE?

OLIVE: Yeah. That’s why he wears a Phantom of the Opera mask through the rest of the series.

Apparently summarizing last night’s events has been checked off the agenda, because all anyone’s doing is complaining about not getting the grant.

Guard #1, who seems a little less cocky, but not much, asks the group who should get the reward money for capturing the Brandywines: $1,000! (About $32,000 today.)

And the Blind School is saved! I mean, it’ll burn to the ground in about three days, but we won’t worry about that for now.

Outside, the paddywagon departs, a fourth guard signaling the horses. 

WILL: Mustache Man! You can always tell it’s him.

ROMAN: Nobody yells at a horse like Mustache Man.

Wisely, some additional guards have been added inside the wagon.

The music rises and the trumpets blare madly.

DAGNY: DAVID!!!!!

Bum-Bum-Ba-Dum!

STYLE WATCH: Hester-Sue looks beautiful in her dress-and-cape combo.

OLIVE: I like Mrs. Oleson’s dress quite a bit.

WILL: Yeah. I think that’s the one she wore to the circus.

DAGNY: The hat’s good, too.

I notice that Ma’s stove is a Perfection. It’s beautiful, but that company wasn’t founded until 1888.

Charles appears to go commando again.

THE VERDICT: 

DAGNY: That one was great! I wish it was a two-parter.

That’s high praise when you’re talking Little House! A one-off adventure more in the spirit of the show’s early years, “‘Darkness is My Friend’” is terribly exciting. The similarities to “The Aftermath” are obvious, but thank goodness the tone is more like “The Wolves.” (Both show the influence of Sam Peckinpah, I would possibly argue, though “‘Darkness’” is more indebted to Wait Until Dark, in which blind Audrey Hepburn smashes her lightbulbs to battle home invader Alan Arkin.) 

“‘Darkness’” is violent by Little House standards, and a little close to the knuckle at times (I could have done without the attempted rape). But there’s no denying the show still has the juice to pull off thrillers of this type, or that James McIntire makes a terrifying villain.

All the same, a Little House version of Home Alone would also have been nice.

Merry Christmas if you celebrate, Happy New Year all, and happy holidays generally! You readers are truly the best.

UP NEXT: Silent Promises