“The Silent Cry”

The Silence of the Lambs; or

Yabber Dib Dubber Jabber!

(a recap by Will Kaiser)

Title: “The Silent Cry” [sic]

Airdate: October 20, 1980

Written and directed by Michael Landon

SUMMARY IN A NUTSHELL: Cantankerous caretaker Houston Lamb tries to adopt some adorable special-needs tots. (Sounds gaggy, I know, but let’s give it a shot.)

RECAP: First things first – happy ninety-seventh birthday (on June 20th) to Bonnie Bartlett, our own wonderful Grace Snider-Edwards, and just a fantastic person generally, if you ask me.

Anyways, we’re back in Sleepy Eye again, in front of the General Mercantile.

Toe-tappin’ Toby Noe-type music (Noe-tappin’?) is a-playin’ on the soundtrack. (David Rose is still a-strikin’.)

Viewers can debate whether this is the same Sleepy Eye General Store we’ve visited a few times. 

The entrance is different – the other had a sort of semi-enclosed porch entrance on the corner of the building.

Then again, it’s possible they’re the same store, if it’s quite large and has a second or “side” entrance down the block a bit.

Alternatively, there might be two stores. After all, in recent days we’ve met two different proprietors, Mr. Crowley and Abel “Easily Manipulated Abel” Thorn. 

Then again again, Crowley and Thorn might be co-owners of the same store, à la the two hardware cocksuckers on Deadwood.

Crowley and Thorn might even be brothers, since they look like twins; but their surnames are different.

(Of course, they might be long-lost twins raised separately under different names, as was the case in Big Business.)

The street is busy today. 

We see the Alamo Tourist from Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure fooling around with a sack of somethin’ in front of the store.

The camera accompanies us across the street and inside, where we find Houston Lamb doing some business. 

The clerk is neither Mr. Crowley nor Easily Manipulated Abel. (That on its own proves nothing, though!)

Houston comes walking out with a crate, and next we find ourselves outside Jonathan Garvey’s freight business. 

(We catch a glimpse of Mustache Man and Carl driving past.)

Out front, Co-Sheriff Garvey is looking over a load of goods on the back of a wagon driven by a darkish oldster whom Garvey addresses as “J.D.”

Garvey gives J.D. the okay to depart, and says “Hyah, get on out!” as the horses start moving.

ROMAN: Is that proper horse etiquette? I don’t think you should “hyah!” another man’s horse.

Houston crosses the street making excited noises.

It took some time for us to guess what he said. In fact, we made a sort of game of it.

Houston’s first shout is a kind of sharp yap.

WILL: So what did he say?

ALEXANDER: Sounded like “Son!”

ROMAN: I thought it was more of a laugh, like “Hah!”

DAGNY: I thought he was hocking a loogie.

[EDITOR’S NOTE: Apologies if you spell it loogie-hawking. Hocking is my style preference. – WK]

The subtitle transcriptionist, who I admit often catches things better than I do, interprets Houston’s ejaculation as “Garvey!” 

Then the old guy gives a second sharp yap.

ALEXANDER: This one’s easy. “What’s that?”

DAGNY: Yeah. 

DAGNY/ROMAN/ALEXANDER: “What’s that?”

But the transcriptionist hears this one not as “What’s that?”, but as “What you say?”

Gesturing at the box, Garvey says, “Looks like you got your work cut out for you,” to which Houston replies with a longer string of words.

ALEXANDER: Hm, this one’s really difficult.

ROMAN: I think he said something about one saw against another saw?

DAGNY: Something about his “big ol’ belly,” then something about peanuts. He’s hungry for peanuts?

WILL: That can’t be it. It sounded like “plastic peanuts” to me, which wouldn’t be edible.

DAGNY: I understand what he means, though. He’s saying whatever he’s working on, like, if it’s not one thing, it’s another, something like that.

That last guess is pretty close. The transcriptionist translates Houston’s brief speech as “Oh, that big old building up there, I no more get one side plastered and painted, then the other side goes to pot!”

(I had an Uncle Louie Kaiser whose Wisconsin accent was so thick even I had trouble understanding him. Houston’s affect, or effect, or both, is remarkably similar.)

Well, whatever he said or meant, Garvey chuckles pleasantly at his friend’s gibberish.

Houston says he’d do anything for them adorable blind kids, adding, “God’s only mistake was lettin’ ’em get to grownups!” (We like our kids as grownups, but I know what he means.)

ROMAN: Does he become a serial killer to prevent kids from growing up?

WILL: No . . . but “Sylvia” is coming soon!

Garvey says God “makes up for that,” explaining that Houston’s in his sixties but “actin’ like a kid again.” 

This doesn’t make much sense to me, but Houston seems to like it. He cackles insanely and moves on.

As he goes, he passes the (Brown) County Orphanage, and the camera now abandons him to find out what’s going on inside. (Get it?)

We first get a closeup of a plump-faced little tot as a man’s voice says, “They’re fine-looking boys, aren’t they?”

We see another boy, this one with wavy hair, and more of a tyke than a tot I suppose, and the man addresses them as “Josh” and “Michael.”

This is apparently a meet-and-greet with potential adoptive parents, “Mr. and Mrs. Rooney.” But the littler tot, Josh, won’t look them in the eye.

“He’s just a little shy, that’s all,” Michael, the older tyke, says by way of explanation. You get the sense this is something he tells people all the time.

The orphanage-master, a long-nosed man experiencing hair outbreaks on several parts of his head, is played by the same guy who played Dr. Mayes, the benevolent cofounder of the Mayes Clinic in Rochester who saved Mary’s life after she was kicked by the Evil Chonky.

He’s Ivan Bonar, and we did his bio with the earlier story so I won’t do it again, except to tell you I suggested he should have starred in a Bonanza spinoff called Bonar-nanza. (Tell the truth, reader, that’s the type of juvenile crap that keeps you comin’ back for more.)

Well, the prospective dad, who looks like Paul Lynde, turns to his wife, who looks like Jane Eyre.

The wife asks to speak to the Orphan-Master in private. One senses she is the supreme decider in their household, same as in the Olesons’, and ours.

Bonar-nanza asks a nurse to send the boys out. At least, I think she’s a nurse, though she may be a housekeeper, maid, or some non-specific Nineteenth-Century female servant. You know – a generalist.

Addressing this person as “Miss Mason,” Bonar-nanza asks her to stay for the bonus round of the proceedings.

ALEXANDER: This is a nice-looking orphanage.

ROMAN: Yeah. Where are the chains?

Indeed, on the wall is an 1859 engraving called The Pilgrims Signing the [Mayflower] Compact, originally painted by T.H. Matteson, in this case reproduced by an engraver known as “Gauthier.”

(This must be a witty nod to the real Charles Ingalls’s ancestors coming to North America on the Mayflower. Because in fact, the picture features Richard Warren, Charles’s great-great-great-great-great-etc.-grandfather, in the background! I think there’s even a resemblance, if you look closely . . . can you spot which one he is?)

Not-Jane Eyre says, “From the time the boys first came into the room, the little one never spoke.”

WILL [as the ORPHAN-MASTER]: “Your husband hasn’t spoken since you came in the room, should we put HIM out with the trash?”

Actually, the Orphan-Master homina-hominas and says, Yeah, like Michael said: shy.

Not-Paul Lynde does speak then. Sounding nothing like Paul Lynde, he asks why they didn’t seem to expect Josh the Tot to talk to them. (A canny fellow.)

Not-Paul is George Dickerson, who worked for the United Nations in Lebanon in the mid-seventies, and who during the Lebanese Civil War was apparently held hostage and nearly killed.

He didn’t become an actor until after that experience. In addition to Little House, he had a recurring role on Hill Street Blues, was on Father Murphy, and appeared in David Lynch’s Blue Velvet (great movie) as well as in Psycho II, the Tim Maier vehicle. 

Furthermore, Dickerson was a distinguished writer of poetry, fiction and creative nonfiction, writing for The New Yorker, TIME and other pubs. Well-recognized in literary circles, apparently. 

Not-Jane is Barbara Beckley, who played Caroline Brady for a time on Days, who also appeared on Dynasty, Voyagers! and Dallas, and who was a founder of The Colony Theatre in Los Angeles. 

The Orphan-Master looks at the floor in the attitude of someone who’s been foiled, and Mr. Rooney asks Miss Mason point-blank: “Can the boy speak?”

Miss Mason says he hasn’t spoken yet, but, as Miss Beadle said of Dumb Abel once, she feels it’s not that he’s disabled. She suggests environmental factors are responsible for his silence, which she believes will be temporary. (Paraphrase.)

WILL: They should get Laura to come to town and teach him ASL.

Mr. Rooney asks how long they’ve had Josh there. The Orphan-Master stammers and says, “Well, we’re a new facility here.”

ALEXANDER: Oh, that’s why it looks nice.

Miss Mason says Josh is in perfect health. “He’ll be all right, Mr. Rooney, believe me,” she says.

Not unkindly, Mr. Rooney says he’s sympathetic, but he doesn’t know if they can handle a child with special needs.

Miss Mason digs in, but Mrs. Rooney burns some goodwill with the audience then, saying, “Then make him speak. Bring him in and make him speak.” (It’s hard not to think of Mrs. Oleson saying “Then make her walk, Doctor!” in “Bunny.”)

Mr. Rooney calms her, then turns to the O-M and says definitively, “We’d like to adopt Michael.”

Miss Mason immediately interrupts, saying with feeling, “But they’re brothers! All they have is each other!”

Then she turns to the O-M and, addressing him as “Mr. Case,” pleads with him not to separate the kids, and Case ends up arguing with his own staff in front of a client. 

DAGNY: I’ve seen this exact scenario play out with doctors and nurses.

Miss Mason won’t let up, but Case, who I expect wishes he’d left her out of the bonus round, says, “That will be all, Miss Mason.”

WILL [as HEADMASTER]: “Leave, Mr. Keating.”

Stunned by the unexpected development, she leaves and finds the cute little brothers holding hands in the hall.

DAGNY: That kid’s got some big hands.

ALEXANDER: Yeah, they’re monster hands, like Roman’s.

ROMAN: I don’t have monster hands.

WILL: Um, that’s TWO hands together. You can see they’re holding hands, right?

DAGNY: No, they’re big besides that.

ALEXANDER: Definitely.

I’m not sure about that. Michael is played by David Hollander – no relation to the Ray Donovan showrunner David Hollander who got in some trouble a few years back for apparently being a nasty piece of work.

This David Hollander was a prominent child actor for many years. Like a number of other Little House guest stars (including Nora Meerbaum, Kenneth Tobey and Jonathan Banks), Hollander is well remembered for a wonderful bit in Airplane! 

In it, he plays a kid with exquisite manners who enjoys a cup of coffee (and a surprising conversation) with a friend.

Hollander did voices for The Littles and had recurring roles on What’s Happening!! and the Lucy Lee Flippin vehicle Flo.

He appeared on Eight is Enough, The ABC After School Special, Quincy, the Gil Gerard vehicle Buck Rogers, and many other shows.

He also was a regular on A New Kind of Family, a short-lived sitcom headlined by Eileen Brennan and costarring Rob Lowe. (This would have been around the time Lowe began dating Melissa Gilbert.)

Moviewise, he was in (the Granville Whipple vehicle) Meatballs Part II and in The Relic, the latter of which is the favorite horror film of my former boss, a Very Important Person.

Eventually stepping back from acting, Hollander went on to become a distinguished music librarian, selecting and editing stock music for many film and TV productions.

And as for the little one:

WILL: Dagny, see if you can recognize the littler kid. He’s from something people our age would know.

Anyways, Miss Mason gives the kids a look of immense compassion, and the three walk hand in hand down the corridor, Wizard of Oz-style.

Quite unexpectedly, in that any appearance by Mary on this show these days is unexpected, we cut to Mary and Adam bathed in a pool of mysterious blue light. Looks a bit like they’re on Metebelis III from Doctor Who.

Just when you thought the show’s interest in these two couldn’t evaporate any further, they have this scintillating conversation: 

ADAM: All done. Let’s get some sleep.

MARY: That bed’s gonna feel good.

If I may stop things for a moment, I really would love for somebody to explain how/why the show has moved so far away from having an intellectual, dramatic or emotional interest in Mary as a character. 

After five seasons making Mary arguably the most complex of the Ingalls family characters, the show has featured her – I mean really featured her, as in giving her more important things to say/do than “That bed’s gonna feel good” – in just five out of the past 28 episodes. 

That’s about 18 percent, compared to her average of 57 percent in Seasons One through Five. And in many of the other stories, she’s simply absent.

And while nobody would argue that Mary didn’t have worthwhile roles in Season Six, I think you’ll agree that those stories were mostly dark, tragic “screamers” rather than the nuanced, relationship-driven Mary Stories of past seasons. 

(We adore the screamers, of course, but they’re no “The Award,” “The Handyman,” “Whisper Country,” “The Pride of Walnut Grove,” etc., etc., when it comes to exploring the specific strengths and anxieties of this character.) 

I know there are behind-the-scenes rumors and fan theories, but I really don’t like to go there (even if sometimes I do). MSA has talked about how it became harder to sustain her own interest in the character after the quality of the Mary Stories deteriorated, and I can’t say I blame her. 

Whatever the reason, “phasing out” Mary in this way not only disrespects the character, but also results in the show feeling out of cosmic balance, or something. 

I know many of you agree, and there’s nothing to be done about it now . . . but aaarghh, am I right? (I know you can’t see it, but I’m pacing around the room and puffing in frustration about it right now.) 

Well, if you do agree, friend, take comfort in knowing that you are right. 

Anyways, on their way up to bed, the Kendalls encounter Houston, who’s dry-walling the stairwell.

Houston jabbers something that this time even stumps the transcriptionist. 

I think I’ve got it, though: “Mary, you and Adam finish yo’ paperwork?”

“Yeah!” says Adam. (I’m not sure he understands Houston either.)

Mary makes a little joke about how blind people never have any idea when it’s nighttime – which I’m sure isn’t true!

Adam tells Houston not to work too late, since he’s “not getting any younger,” but Houston says, quite seriously, “Oh, yes I am – Mr. Garvey told me so.”

Grunting, wheezing, and muttering to himself – in that, but not only in that, he reminds me a bit of Aughra from The Dark Crystal – Houston heads out to his shed, accompanied by some goofy Brady Bunch–style comedy music.

(I met the real Aughra once, but that’s another story for another world, another time.)

Hearing a noise, he finds the two little boys hiding behind a barrel. Escapees!

With the air of someone experienced in dealing with children, Houston reacts without surprise, except to say gently that he “wa’n’t expectin’ company this evening.”

“Whatsa matter, cat got ya tongue?” he says. (A favorite expression of his.)

He reaches toward Josh, but Michael stays his hand.

DAGNY: What was he going to do? Grab his tongue?

ROMAN: Yeah, like Speak No Evil!

Gently again, Houston says the kids are in no danger from him, and invites them into the house for something to eat.

WILL [as HOUSTON]: “I got me a real tasty queso dip cookin’ upstairs!”

DAGNY [as HOUSTON]: “Made with Pace Picante Sauce!”

ALEXANDER [as HOUSTON]: “That other stuff’s made in NEW YORK CITY!”

(Alexander really liked being introduced to that commercial.)

The kids are fearful, so Houston shrugs and says well, eatin’ with old people’s no fun anyways. (Actually, it often is, in my experience.)

Houston slyly adds that nevertheless, the invitation still stands; and sure enough, soon the boys creep up to join him.

Houston offers them some hot tea. “Ain’t nothin’ worse than cold tea,” he laughs, “’cept maybe a cold nose!”

DAGNY [as HOUSTON, laughing]: “Yeah, up your ass! Heh heh heh!”

We rarely see stoves in people’s bedrooms on this show, but it wasn’t unusual in large buildings at that time. It was the only way to heat them. Our friends Douglas and Lee live in a monstrous old Nineteenth-Century mansion with something like twenty fireplaces – none of them operational, because they can’t burn wood, only coal.

Well, the hungry children join him at the table.

ALEXANDER: What are they eating?

WILL: I don’t know, like, sandwiches. Bread and butter?

DAGNY: Looks like cinnamon bread.

ALEXANDER: Yeah, that’s what he said.

WILL: . . . Then why did you ask?

Casually, Houston inquires about the boys’ origins.

DAGNY: Where’s this guy supposed to be from?

ALEXANDER: His name’s Houston, probably Texas.

DAGNY: Doesn’t sound like Texas to me. Maybe Louisiana? The Deep South?

I don’t know accents well enough to judge. Dub Taylor was born in Virginia, grew up in Georgia, and had a dad from North Carolina, so it’s probably a mix of deep and shallow Souths.

Houston introduces himself.

ALEXANDER: Did Michael Landon name him Lamb because it sounds like Landon?

ROMAN: Yeah, Houston Lambdon.

Michael introduces little Josh, again saying, “He don’t talk much.”

“Well, smart fellas usually don’t,” Houston says instantly. (Lord, he’s smooth!)

I’m not sure these two look like brothers, though they certainly are cute kids. 

Josh, in fact, looks almost more like a puppet or painted doll than a child. He isn’t one, of course.

Houston says if they haven’t made previous arrangements, they’re welcome to stay with him at Garvey Kendall.

WILL [as HOUSTON]: “The place is fulla blind kids. You won’t see ’em, though. They hide for whole episodes sometimes.”

DAGNY: So does he make them pretend to be blind? That sounds like this show.

We all agreed the cinnamon bread looks pretty good.

Well, a storm blows up (the lightning, I suppose, being the “flashing lights” we were warned about earlier), and back at the orphanage Miss Mason is a-pacin’! 

She’s no doubt imagining the missing boys in the storm.

DAGNY: She reminds me of an older Caroline.

Miss Mason is Elizabeth Hoffman, who was a regular on Sisters in the nineties (you don’t hear much about that one these days) and who had recurring roles on Thirtysomething, Matlock, and Stargate SG-1.

She played Eleanor Roosevelt in the World War II miniseries The Winds of War and War and Remembrance in the eighties. (My dad and I watched those. I remember feeling disappointed that FDR wasn’t as sprightly as he was in Annie.)

Hoffman also appeared on L.A. Law and Star Trek: TNG, and in the movies Born on the Fourth of July and Silent Night, Deadly Night 3: Better Watch Out! (Christmas horror movies are strangely satisfying, aren’t they? My therapist loves Krampus, and my fave is Jack Frost.)

The camera crew plays a mean trick on her then, having the window she’s looking through suddenly morph into a reflection of her employer!

Mr. Case tells Miss Mason this is a job for Sheriff Garvey.

“I’ll get dressed,” Miss Mason says, despite being fully dressed already.

But apparently she’s referring to her inclement-weather costume. She says she knew the boys would run away before they’d be separated.

Mr. Case starts to get on her case about that then (heh heh).

But Miss Mason essentially tells him to shut the fuck up, and he does.

Back in Houston’s room, the boys are sleeping, and Houston reluctantly gets his raincoat on to report the foundlings.

ALEXANDER: He’s turning them in?

WILL: Yeah. He’s like Charles Grodin in Rosemary’s Baby.

(Of course, Houston thinks they’ve run away from home at this point, not an orphanage. So I cut him a little slack here.)

Meanwhile, Jonathan Garvey is already beginning his investigation.

ALEXANDER: Where’s that other sheriff?

ROMAN: He’s, you know, patrolling the county.

ALEXANDER: Hmm . . .

Sheriff Pike’s absence in this story is neither acknowledged nor explained. No offense to Harry Carey, Jr., but he was kind of a non-character anyways.

Anyways, Garvey asks why the boys might have run away, and Mr. Case instantly flips out, saying, “I don’t know what you’re implying!” (When somebody says that after your first interview question, you’ve got ’em.)

Miss Mason takes over for her useless boss, telling Garvey what he wants to know. (Houston slips into the office at this point. Nobody notices, which seems odd.)

Mr. Case then starts complaining about Josh’s muteness and how it’s gonna fuck with the orphanage’s placement rate. (Now is not the time, bruh.)

Garvey takes an instant dislike to this guy – and he basically says so! (You can tell Miss Mason is suppressing a laugh at this.)

“If you don’t have any more information to give me,” Garvey says, “I think I’ll just start hunting.”

ALEXANDER [as MR. CASE]: “Hunting? In this weather?”

Garvey then turns to Houston, who opts not to tell the assembly about the boys he found.

The next day, we see Carl the Flunky driving past Garvey Kendall on behalf of the B&K Livery.

He’s quite duded-up, so this must be a significant part-time assignment with a uniform budget. B&K must be the luxury livery, like those “car condos” some people store their luxury cars in today. 

Inside, Houston tells the kids he’ll hide them in his private “shack outside of town.” (We never get any indication that Houston’s interest in the children is anything less than benevolent. This arrangement might raise eyebrows today, and probably then as well; but it’s just a nice story, of course.)

Michael asks why he didn’t turn them in, and indeed, Houston seems to have a flexible morality, like Albert’s before he got Grovesterized.

Houston says he must be getting senile, then explains the word. (There’s a running gag in this one where Michael keeps mispronouncing the word. I don’t think it’s such a scream myself, but what do I know?)

WILL: So, have you recognized the little one?

DAGNY: Not quite, but he is familiar. There’s something about his eyes. I bet he grew up to be handsome. Not, like, the hunk of hunks, but with a magnetism, like Bill Clinton. Like, “You’re in my power.”

WILL: What?

ROMAN: Oh my God, Mom, he’s just a little kid!

Well, who should come drivin’ into town but Pa and Albert, all smiles.

Garvey appears, his all-night search having come to naught. He brings the Ing-guys up to speed.

There’s a cute little exchange here where Albert asks Pa if he can have some coffee, and Pa says okay, as long as it’s café au lait.

Then we cut to Houston and the kids fishing on a body of water that looks suspiciously like Lake Kezia.

Presumably, though, it’s meant to be Sleepy Eye Lake, the only major body of water in the vicinity.

Michael tells Houston their late father didn’t enjoy fishing.

DAGNY: Is the little one, like, the guy from Wings or something?

WILL: You’re getting warmer. Which guy?

Houston says, “I guess it don’t make much sense to some folks to sit for hours tryin’ to catch some fish they can go buy in a store for a few pennies.”

(An insane statement. I imagine fresh fish in rural Minnesota general stores at the time would be scarce. You could probably get it smoked – but I bet it cost more than “pennies.”)

Houston says it’s satisfying to fend for oneself, and besides “it’s just fun – PLUPERFECT fun!”

He cracks me up. “Pluperfect” doesn’t actually mean “extra-perfect,” as Houston seems to think. As linguists and English majors (might) recall, it’s a grammatical tense. I won’t bother explaining it (you can look it up if you care), but here is an example:

I wish they had shown Hester-Sue attacking the robbers with a hammer.

Josh the tot gets a bite.

DAGNY: Is it that Ike guy?

WILL: Ike Eisenmann? No. Ike Eisenmann is much older, and we met him twice already.

DAGNY: I thought maybe he shrank.

Well, in fact, Josh is David Faustino, whom readers our age will remember as Bud Bundy on Married…With Children.

I never loved that show (I preferred The Simpsons at the time), but I appreciate what it was trying to do. If I recall, Bud was sort of the Willie Oleson character.

Faustino is mostly remembered for that role, but his resume is plenty interesting otherwise. As a child actor, he appeared on Trapper John, M.D., Fantasy Island, St. Elsewhere, Highway to Heaven (a two-parter), Family Ties, and Scarecrow and Mrs. King.

In the nineties, he did Blossom, Alien Nation, and The Bernie Mac Show, and he later appeared on The X Files, Entourage, and Modern Family (which costarred his former TV dad Ed O’Neill).

He was in the shark-related projects Atomic Shark, Saltwater: Atomic Shark, and Sharknado 4: The 4th Awakens.

He had a recurring role on The Young and the Restless.

Like a lot of actors who came of age at the same time, including our own Matthew Labyorteaux, he’s continued to have a very successful career doing voices for animated series and movies. I only recognize a few of them, mostly old – Johnny Bravo, Robot Chicken, American Dad!, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles – but believe me when I tell you there are many more recent examples.

Oh, he did voices for Gummi Bears too. I do remember that one.  

He did a couple cameos (in character as Bud) on Parker Lewis Can’t Lose. I loved that show, which was “meta” and insanely inventive, much in the mode of Scrubs, only set in a high school.

I’ve never revisited Parker Lewis as an adult – I’m sort of afraid to, given how much I liked it in high school. But Faustino and Corin Nemec must have gotten along, because they later cocreated a web series together called Star-ving. I’ve never seen that.

Even so, I think everyone would agree that Faustino’s best guest spot to date (besides Little House of course) was on Love Boat. 

It’s a rather disturbing story. Barnard Hughes (of The Lost Boys fame) plays “Uncle Joey,” a washed-up Captain Kangaroo–type host whose alter ego is a talking pancake puppet called “Flapjack.”

Uncle Joey is invited to put on a show for the passengers. (Entertainers love doing that for free on vacation, is my understanding.) 

He sings cringeworthy children’s songs from his old show, just the sort of entertainment passengers on sleazy seventies singles cruises craved, I’m sure.

Uncle Joey has befriended a little boy played by Faustino, and during the show, he dedicates a song to the kid.

Only he miscalculated badly, because little David literally runs screaming from the room.

(Everybody’s a critic nowadays, as the Purple Pieman observes in Strawberry Shortcake in Big Apple City.)

Apparently, David’s violent reaction was on account of his recently tragically deceased father, who would sing Uncle Joey’s terrible song to him every day.

Fortunately Flapjack is able to negotiate a détente with the kid.

In an interesting coincidence, the same episode marks the first regular appearance of Ted McGinley, who would go on to costar with Faustino on Married…With Children.

(The likeable McGinley always reminds me of a blond Michael Landon.)

(I had to double-check whether McGinley ever guested on Little House; he didn’t. I didn’t think so, but you never know with him.)

But I’m getting away from our proper topic. Finally, David Faustino put out a rap album in the early nineties.

Well, little Joshie catches a big fish. I’m no expert, but I’m going to say it’s a trout.

Josh grins maniacally at his catch.

DAGNY: He looks like he’s gonna bite its head off.

Later, Josh is gathering sticks to make a fire for cooking lunch, but he gets distracted, quite Carrie-ishly, by a butterfly.

Also Carrie-ishly, he immediately starts poking it with his finger. (You can see the poor creature’s leash if you look.)

Josh chases it about merrily.

ALEXANDER: Does he fall down a well?

(I’m not sure Alexander’s even seen that one, but indeed, there are similarities. It’s even the same kind of butterfly.)

But no, Joshie just runs into the path of an oncoming heavy wagon.

ROMAN: Oh my God, it’s Pet Sematary!

The driver of this vehicle, though, is Charles Ingalls, so he manages not to trample Josh into mashed potatoes.

All this happens by an old rustic bridge that’s nearly identical to the one back in Walnut Grove.

Pa does spot the kid, though, and he gives chase!

WILL [as CHARLES, screaming]: “Fly, Chonkies! Pursue! Pursue!”

Whoever is picking the music has chosen something dopey and mellow from Der Rosenkatalog, so we know Josh is in no real danger.

Pa and Albert, who’s along for the ride, follow the kid into a little shack by the water, where they find Houston frying fish.

He greets the Grovesters warmly.

WILL: Could you understand what he said?

DAGNY: Sure. [as HOUSTON:] “Yabber dib dubber jabber!”

“We just saw a little boy run in here,” Pa says, and Houston replies cheerfully, “How’s Laura!”

Pa tries to go on about the missing children, but Houston interrupts to tell him he considers Laura “a special little lady.” Ha!

[Matthew Labyorteaux, a consummate professional, does not crack up at Dub Taylor’s delivery in this scene, but it must have been difficult.)

Pa pushes on to talk about the runaways, but Houston just says oh yeah, they’re here, now how ’bout some lunch?

Pa asks how Houston could let Jonathan Garvey search the countryside all night when he knew where the kids were all along.

Houston just laughs and starts offering them fish again, but Pa shouts him down.

WILL [as ALBERT, meekly]: “I’D like some fish.”

Pa again demands to know why he didn’t turn the kids into the Sheriff. Houston laughs and says, “That’s the second time that question’s been asked me that today! [sic]” 

Dub Taylor is just a scream in this scene. He reminds me of my beloved ex-grandmother-in-law. Amelia and Olive’s mom and I got divorced fifteen years ago, but I went out for breakfast at least once a year with Grandma ever since (told you I like eating with old people), and she always called on my birthday. She passed away last year at ninety, after a wonderful and very full life.

DAGNY: You know, he gives a kind of round impression, but he’s really not fat. Actually, he looks quite fit and hearty for his age. How old did this guy live to be?

WILL: Pretty old. I think he lived another ten years or so?

DAGNY: Yeah, I’m not surprised.

(Dub Taylor died in 1994 at age 87!)

“Come on out, Mike and Josh,” Houston says. He introduces them rather formally to Pa and Albert.

For once, Pa looks unsure how to handle the situation.

“Hi,” Albert says hilariously.

Houston invites Charles to sit down so they can talk, and he does, as if this is a business meeting Houston called in the first place.

Putting his arm protectively around the boys, and leaving the dead fish on the table, Houston says, “Now, Mr. Ingalls, this ain’t gone be easy, cuz we don’t know all the answers.”

He says he hid the boys away because he refused to see them separated for adoption.

Houston must have done his homework, since Charles of course similarly objected to splitting up the Sanderson kids way back in “‘Remember Me.’”

ROMAN: Houston should just adopt them himself.

DAGNY: Yeah. He could marry that British lady and they could live in her hole in the ground.

They would be quite well suited, I think, but sadly that does not come to pass.

Charles says of course he doesn’t agree with separating the kids, but this matter is complex. 

Well, Houston is an excellent if exasperating debater, and before he knows it Charles is agreeing to hide the kids from the authorities.

He looks helplessly at Albert; but of course Albert is on Team Orphanz.

WILL [as ALBERT]: “It’s the hard-knock life, Pa.”

WILL: This is like how easily they convinced Pa to take that kid to California on the train.

Pa stresses that the subterfuge can only be temporary. Defeated, he rises.

DAGNY [as HOUSTON]: “You know, bein’ a social worker ain’t easy, Charles.”

WILL [as CHARLES]: “You don’t say.”

Michael politely thanks Pa for helping them, saying he’s glad he’s as senile as they are.

That night, Houston tucks the kids in. Michael asks for privacy so they can say their prayers, and Houston says he understands that.

Well, Michael asks God to let them stay with Houston permanently. (I know this story barely involves our regular cast, but it is quite touching, I think.)

Michael adds a request that God take good care of their parents, which is a sweet touch.

Hearing this prayer, Houston steps outside, crying. He asks the Lord for the same thing. (The transcriptionist has him saying “They mean it,” but I think it’s actually amen.)

WILL: Is that moonlight hitting him? He’s quite illuminated.

DAGNY: Yeah. Landon directed this one, right?

WILL: Yeah.

The next morning, Mr. Case receives an unexpected visitor at the orphanage: Houston.

Case is baffled by Houston’s arrival, and even more baffled when Houston says, “I’d like to adopt some children.” (He doesn’t mention which children.)

“I’ll be honest with you, Mr. Houston,” Case begins after a moment, but Houston of course interrupts him to say “It ain’t Mr. Houston, it’s Houston Lamb!”

WILL: That’s his catchphrase.

Dubiously, Case asks Houston’s age and “the age of your wife.”

Houston says “I ain’t married,” adding that he owns a nice property nearby, though.

Case inquires about Houston’s financial stability, and Houston replies that he has no money.

Case then asks what he farms. Houston says nothing – but he likes to fish.

Case gently says that it’s company policy not to allow adoptions by creepy elderly destitute loners.

At first Houston refuses to leave, then he stumps off sadly.

WILL: I don’t understand. One minute this guy is complaining about their adoption rates, and now he’s turning people away. Would he really care that much?

Thinking it will improve his chances at the orphanage, Houston then absurdly decided to reactivate the farm on his property.

With the help of an old mule named Myrtle, he’s plowing a field.

DAGNY: This is ridiculous.

The music is also ridiculous. Michael comes running over with a (curiously light-looking) bucket of water, and the track selected includes some weird, out-of-place “meow” sound effects from the guitar, if you listen closely.

Michael says he’s worried Houston, who’s sweaty even by this show’s standards, is working too hard.

Feigning offense, or perhaps genuinely taking it, Houston says he’s fine and Michael should get back to his chores.

Next we see Albert loitering in front of the Barton House hotel. For a show about poor people, they stay at a lot of hotels, don’t they? 

We’ve seen the Grand, the Palace, and the Brower in Mankato; the Dakota and the Mason in Winoka; another Palace, this one in Newton, Dakota Territory; and another Brower (in Deadwood).

The name of the hotel Ma and Pa stayed at on their second honeymoon in Mankato is left a mystery, unlike whether Pa got lucky that weekend. (He didn’t.)

Mary and Pa stayed at the Tremont House in Chicago when she got dumped. 

Mary and Ma also stayed in one in Minneapolis, but we never learned its name.

Ma and Pa stayed at the Kohler in Burton, Iowa, at Sherman House in Milwaukee, and at an unnamed hotel in Rochester.

In Springfield, we once glimpsed a Rollpoint Hotel in the background.

Walnut Grove, of course, has Nellie’s/Caroline’s. (Is the hotel still Nellie’s but the restaurant Caroline’s? That would explain the confusing signage. Well, some of it.)

There’s also the second story of the Post Office, which Mr. Hanson used to refer to as “the hotel,” but I think that’s defunct since Nellie’s opened.

Sleepy Eye, meanwhile, also has a Grand Hotel, and in “Apple Boobs” we theorized that Mrs. Leary’s boarding house (name-dropped by Nels, who knows his way around boarding houses, in “Here Come the Brides”) had upgraded to the Leary Hotel. (We never learned which one Charles and Jonathan Garvey stayed in after winning the freight contract in “Boobs.”)

Additionally, Andrew Garvey and Albert stayed at Mrs. Channing’s boarding house during their unsupervised visit to Eyeland.

Various characters have stated that Sleepy Eye has grown significantly over the course of this series, so I don’t really have any problem with there being so many options.

Pa comes out, having informed Ma via telephone that they’re going to stay in the Eye “a few more days.” (This is about the point on the series when characters beginning using the phone with the same ease and convenience as modern people do, or at least, as Twentieth-Century Americans did. Real phones were kind of fun to have in the house, weren’t they?)

They notice Sheriff Garvey trudges into the freight office, presumably having searched nonstop for the missing orphans since their disappearance.

ALEXANDER: Some detective.

Pa looks sadly at his unknowing friend.

WILL: This is why Charles is coded NEUTRAL Good. Sometimes he breaks the rules.

But now Charles says they can’t go on lying forever.

In the freight office, Garvey asks if Charles has found the kids, and he reluctantly answers “no.”

ROMAN: Where is ANDREW Garvey?

No idea. Andy’s mysterious absence in this story is very strange. I suppose it’s barely possible that he’s up in Minneapolis visiting Grandma X. (Sleepy Eye is about forty miles closer to the Twin Cities than Walnut Grove is.)

Well, Pa spills the beans. Garvey is justifiably angry.

ALEXANDER: Does Garvey arrest Charles?

ROMAN: Yeah, do they hang him?

Pa explains his position. Garvey sympathizes, but he has a duty as an officer of the law.

Garvey says he’ll head out to pick the kids up, promising Charles he won’t tell Houston that he squealed like a piggy. (Apparently he has no plans to arrest the kidnapper.)

To dark music, Albert watches the two walk out the door.

DAGNY: Albert, stop them! Loosen the wagon wheel or something.

ALEXANDER: Yeah. Or feed laxatives to the Chonkies.

Back at Houston’s place, Michael has prepared a satisfying-looking if sloppy stew for supper. (Isn’t it morning? How long would it take Garvey to get out there?)

Obviously Joshie doesn’t find it that satisfactory, as he takes a large bite and then regurgitates back into his food dish.

DAGNY: That is so disgusting. That’s worse than Carrie ever did.

Michael goes out to fetch Houston – but finds him comatose in the field!

DAGNY: Oh my God!

Recognizing that Houston’s life is more important than keeping their secret, Michael runs into town and bursts into the orphanage (I suppose it’s the only place he would know to go), where he finds all the other principals.

Michael quickly explains, and the others all rush out as Miss Mason hugs him.

Later that night, we see most of the group gathered in Houston’s house.

DAGNY: Now who is this?

WILL: The Sleepy Eye doctor. I mean, he’s a doctor from Sleepy Eye, not an eye doctor who’s sleepy.

(This doctor – “Doc Higgs,” according to the credits – is Al Dunlap, who was in Dirty Harry and on Gunsmoke, The Six Million Dollar Man, Police Story, and The Greatest American Hero.)

(He was also in Escape to Witch Mountain and in William F. Claxton’s horror Claxterpiece Rattlers.)

Doc Higgs, who apparently knows Houston of old, can’t think why he would have done something so crazy, but Charles sums it up in one word.

WILL: BLOOD?

DAGNY: No, he said “love.”

WILL: Oh.

Mr. Case sneers at Houston’s humble digs, but Charles sneers back quietly, “He’s got a heck of a lot of things you don’t have, Mr. Case.”

Then, even more quietly, he whispers, “A heck of a lot of things.”

ROMAN: Wow, he said it twice.

Mr. Case says, well, there’s no logical reason for me to stay here any longer, so I’m leaving. (Another rare thing for a character to do on this show!)

DAGNY: I never understand the men’s eyebrows on this show. I bet it wreaked havoc for continuity. One touch, and your feelers would point in a different direction.

Case takes Josh out with him, first telling Garvey that the boys will still be separated.

ALEXANDER: Kill him, Sheriff!

ROMAN: Yeah! Loosen his wagon wheel!

But Garvey just looks sadly at Little Orphan Albert, as “I Ride an Old Paint,” a tune perhaps better known to some (like me) as Aaron Copland‘s “Saturday Night Waltz” from Rodeo, plays on the soundtrack. (The piece was previously used in Season Three’s “The Hunters.”)

(I wonder if the melody inspired “Flower of Scotland”? They’re quite similar.)

After a break, we see that Albert, having realized there’s no point to his being in this story, has fallen asleep.

In the bedroom, Charles has a whispered conversation with Houston, who’s revived.

WILL: Charles is a good brow-stroker.

DAGNY: Yeah. Doesn’t matter if it’s a child, a tough man or a gentle woman who needs it.

Houston rakes himself over the coals for not being able to save the boys, and begs Charles to stop the separation.

DAGNY: I can’t understand either of them in this scene.

“Houston, they’re not gonna listen to me,” Charles says.

WILL [as HOUSTON]: “What? Ain’t you Charles fuckin’ Ingalls?”

Houston begs Charles, then passes out.

Doc Higgs says he’ll stay with Houston overnight.

WILL: Would the doc really stay all night? To take care of this old coot?

ALEXANDER: I guess he isn’t sleepy.

ROMAN: No. He’s no sleepy Sleepy Eye eye doctor.

Well, the next day, Charles and Garvey disrupt the adoption meeting with the Rooneys.

Mr. Rooney, again, is sympathetic, but says Charles’s continued pleading isn’t really helping anything.

WILL: Couldn’t Case tell Garvey to arrest Pa for trespassing?

Miss Mason comes rushing in to say the boys have escaped again.

ALEXANDER: What kind of Mickey Mouse orphanage are they running here?

But suddenly Houston appears in the doorway with the kids. He offers a brief, if garbled, explanation.

ALEXANDER: Did he say they boiled a horse?

Case starts hectoring Houston, but the old man just sasses him back. (Miss Mason doesn’t even try to hide her smile this time.)

WILL: She’s gonna lose her situation.

Houston asks the Rooneys, quite simply, to tell Josh why they only want Michael, but they’re too ashamed to say anything.

WILL: He should sit on that lady’s lap.

DAGNY: Yeah. [as MRS. ROONEY:] “Hey, you’re pretty fit for an old guy.”

Houston then makes an impassioned (if somewhat overwritten) speech.

ALEXANDER: Did he say “You’ll hear a fart”?

No, he says a “silent cry” such as Josh’s can only be heard not with the ears, but with the heart.

ROMAN: Wow, he’s acting his heart out.

DAGNY: Yeah.

ALEXANDER: Well, he wants the new show to be picked up.

From what I understand, with “A New Beginning,” this story, and “Make a Joyful Noise” (ten episodes down the road), NBC was testing out a spinoff focusing on Jonathan Garvey as a reluctant sheriff and single parent. I assume the series would have included Andy, Houston, Adam, Mary, Hester-Sue, the blind kids and probably Sheriff Pike – but it never was to be, as they went with Father Murphy instead.

Houston concludes his brave remarks.

WILL: Look at Miss Mason. Do you think she’s falling in love with him?

DAGNY: Definitely. She looks like she just watched the video for “When Doves Cry.”

In the gallery, Mr. Case makes Migraine Face.

Meanwhile, Charles, of course, is blubbering.

Houston tells the boys he loves them, and exits – but Josh chases him down the hall and hugs him.

WILL: [as JOSH THE TOT:] “Tank you Mistah Houston!” [as HOUSTON, screaming:] “Godammit, it’s HOUSTON LAMB!!!!!”

No. Smiling, with tears in his eyes, Josh says, “I love you.”

Having witnessed this, the Rooneys change their minds and say they’ll adopt both the kids at once.

WILL [as HOUSTON]: “The fuck you are! I’m takin’ ’em!”

And the next thing you know, we’re back at Garvey Kendall, where Adam is screaming at Sue Goodspeed. (About time somebody did.)

DAGNY: Adam’s on the show more than Mary is now.

WILL: So is Sue Goodspeed.

Houston, meanwhile, takes a break from painting to step out the front door and wave to Michael and Josh, who are just finishing up school across the street.

Both of them apparently now have girlfriends. Josh even kisses his.

DAGNY: What’s with all the kissing children lately?

WILL: I don’t know.

Houston cackling and some wacky music take us out.

DAGNY: Is this the Addams Family theme?

Bum-Bum-Ba-Dum!

WILL: But did you figure out who Josh was?

DAGNY: Oh, no.

WILL: He was Bud Bundy on Married…With Children.

DAGNY: Oh, I HATED him on that show!

STYLE WATCH: Charles appears to go commando again.

THE VERDICT: Our Grovesters barely figure in this story, and there’s a touch of ableism (what if Josh hadn’t spoken?). But you’d have to have a heart darker than mine not to like it. 

Dub Taylor, if hard to understand at times, gives a wacky, larger-than-life performance that establishes him in the pantheon of Little House Side Characters Who Matter.

Both child actors are great, and Elizabeth Hoffman shines as Miss Mason. 

It’s another interesting example of what Sheriff Garvey might have been like, of course.

And Landon’s script is charming. The “I love you” scene in particular shouldn’t leave a dry eye in the house.

Happy Bonnie Bartlett’s birthday, Happy Father’s Day (late), Happy Pride Weekend here in Minneapolis, Happy Fourth of July, and Happy Semiquincentennial of the United States – a nation which, though its current state would appall TV’s Charles Ingalls, has always aspired to greatness, and which I hope will survive and someday truly achieve it.

See you next time.

UP NEXT: Portrait of Love