♪ Come and listen to my
story about a man named Jed ♪
♪ A poor mountaineer,
barely kept his family fed ♪
♪ And then one day, he
was sh**ting at some food ♪
♪ And up through the ground
come a-bubbling crude ♪
♪ Oil, that is ♪
♪ Black gold ♪
♪ Texas tea ♪
♪ Well, the first thing you
know, old Jed's a millionaire ♪
♪ The kinfolk said, "Jed,
move away from there" ♪
♪ Said, "Californy is the
place you ought to be" ♪
♪ So they loaded up the truck
and they moved to Beverly ♪
♪ Hills, that is ♪
♪ Swimming pools, movie stars. ♪
Shall I summon the
Clampetts to the door, madam?
No, no, Fredericks,
we're not going inside.
I just want to take a
close look at the entrance
to see where my
name will look best.
Your name, madam?
Yes, in a short while,
this lovely edifice
will no longer house
those dreadful hillbillies.
It will be the Margaret
Drysdale Art Center.
Why, congratulations, madam.
I hadn't heard the
Clampetts were moving.
Neither have they.
Nor has my husband.
So, your silence is essential.
Oh, I understand, madam.
This is my most inspired plan.
With one masterstroke,
I shall rid the neighborhood
of these squatters
and leave a lasting
monument to art and culture.
Isn't it brilliant, darling?
I beg your pardon, madam?
I was speaking to Claude.
(barking)
Shh.
We don't want to attract
that hound dog bully.
Whisper to Mother.
(moaning quietly)
That's better, precious.
It's the bully.
Quickly, Fredericks.
Before Claude gets
one of his migraines.
Vicious, bloodthirsty cur!
Well, I thought I heard
something out here.
Howdy, Miz Drysdale.
Glad you could drop by.
Come on in and set a spell.
You, too, young fella.
Oh, really, no, I
can't right now.
I was planning
to come back later
and discuss some
business with you.
All right, maybe
that would be better.
Granny just put some
vittles on the stove.
We can talk over a
plate of groundhog stew.
Groundhog stew?
With plenty of potlikker
and pone to sop it up with.
On second thought,
let's talk now...
out here in the fresh air.
I'm... I'm on a diet.
Oh, I'm sorry I tempted you.
Well, what's on your mind?
Mr. Clampett, this huge mansion
must be a lot of
work to maintain,
what with no servants.
Yeah, it does kind of keep
us hopping, especially Granny.
With her, everything has
got to be scrub-board clean.
There's a way to let the
city take over the drudgery
of cleaning, and
at the same time,
you can make a
lasting contribution
to the happiness and culture
of the people of Beverly Hills.
Well, that sounds
like a good day's work.
How do I do it?
Donate your home
as an art gallery.
Art gallery?
Yes.
We could open the
doors to the public
and let the people
from everywhere stroll
through room after room
of paintings and sculpture.
Take an awful lot of
paintings and sculpture
to fill all them
rooms, wouldn't it?
Oh, yes, but I'm
counting on such art lovers
as Edward G.
Robinson, Vincent Price,
Donald Murray, and others
to donate works of art.
And of course,
you, Mr. Clampett,
have the wherewithal to
fill several rooms yourself.
Well, you can count us.
We'll do our best.
You want to fill the
whole house, huh?
Yes, with the exception of
the pantries and the kitchen.
You say the city is gonna
take over the cleaning and all?
Once your home is
a municipal art center,
the people of Beverly Hills are
responsible for its maintenance.
And that will make them happy?
Divinely, ecstatically happy.
Hmm.
Well, I'll talk to Granny
and the young'uns
and let you know.
According to Miz
Drysdale, turning this house
into a art gallery is gonna
pleasure a heap of people
and save you womenfolks
a heap of housework.
Now, what do you think?
And you say that we'll still
have the kitchen
and the pantries?
Yep, I figure me and Jethro
will sleep out yonder
and you and Elly can bed down
out in the butler's pantry.
If we need more room,
we'll put up the cabin.
Can I keep my critters?
Yeah, I reckon so, if
you keep them outside.
And the city will do
the cleaning for us?
That's what Miz Drysdale
said: the people of Beverly Hills.
It would do my heart good
to see them
highfalutin society folks
down on their hands and
knees with a scrub brush.
Let's do it.
All right with you, Elly?
Sure, be kind of nice
to have visitors for a change.
I was hoping you
would feel that way.
You might just get acquainted
with some young fellas.
Go put on a dress, Elly.
Oh, wait, uh, I
pert near forgot.
Miz Drysdale is counting on us
to do some of the
painting and sculpting.
Us?
We'll have to fill
several rooms,
the way she put it.
Jed, we don't know
nothing about that.
Well, lots of folks
is gonna pitch in
and I promised we'd do our best.
Well, I can do mud sculpting.
Here comes the boy
with the schooling.
I bet you he can learn us.
Learn you what, Uncle Jed?
About painting and sculpting.
Oh, heck, yeah.
I studied all about
art in the fifth grade.
Tell us something.
Well, first you got to know
who the great artists is.
Like Mike Angelo,
Leonard da Vinci,
Rembrandt, d*ck
van d*ke, Blue Boy.
Then, there was some
famous woman artists, too,
like Mona Lisa and
Whistler's mother.
Mm-hmm!
Anybody that says education
ain't worth the money
ought to listen to this boy.
Thank you.
Tell us more, boy.
Well...
Well, Chief, what
did the doctor say?
How do you feel?
I feel like a million
dollars... tax-free.
Well, obviously, the new
doctor's report was good.
Good? It was fantastic!
He says I'm a perfect
physical specimen.
Oh, I should never have listened
to that old quack
I've been going to.
Him and his
expensive prescriptions.
I could start my own pharmacy.
Well, tell me about
this new doctor.
Brilliant young man, brilliant!
And he doesn't charge
those wild fees, either.
My kind of doctor.
Oh, this is wonderful.
I've never seen you so
vigorous and dynamic.
I'm a tiger. (chuckles)
Get out my golf clubs.
I'm gonna knock off a
fast 18 holes before lunch.
Perhaps this would be a
good time to ask for a raise.
You bet it would.
Ask away.
May I have a raise? No!
See, I told you I was a tiger.
Claude, dear,
the success of our project
depends on getting Daddy
out of town for a
while, so don't be upset
if you hear Mother
tell a little white lie.
I'll call and reserve
a caddy for you.
No, no, I'm going to
carry my own clubs.
Here's our daddy-kins.
Good morning, Miss Hathaway.
Mrs. Drysdale, Claude.
Margaret, I'm in
kind of a hurry.
I am going to the
club and sh**t a few...
Milburn, darling,
you mustn't lift anything heavy,
not in your condition.
What do you mean, my condition?
I've just come from
seeing a new doctor,
and you know what he told me?
Don't say it, dear.
I'm sure it's nothing serious.
All you need is rest.
But he said... You
don't have to tell me.
I can see it in your
poor, tired face.
Complete exhaustion.
But he said I looked good.
He was seeing
you for the first time.
I was shocked
when I came in here
just now... shocked!
Weren't you, Claude?
(whining)
He thinks I look bad, too, eh?
Dogs are sensitive
to these things.
You know, I... I
am a little weak.
I... feel a little... queasy.
Milburn, you threw
away your medicine.
Well, that... that
new doctor said I...
I didn't need any.
The young quack... No
wonder he was so cheap.
All you need is a long rest.
You've been driving
yourself too hard.
You know how it is.
The whole load's on me.
I've been under
terrific pressure.
But your health comes first.
A week in Palm Springs,
and you'll be as good as new.
Gee, I... I don't know
if I can stand the trip.
That's right, 18 holes.
Well, he says he
won't need a caddy.
He's feeling like a tiger today.
(chuckling)
Now, then, probably
the greatest artist
to come along was
this fella, Mike Angelo.
What did he do? What did he do?
Well, he just laid on
his back and painted
a bunch of
masterpieces on a ceiling.
That's what he done.
On a ceiling, huh?
Must have had awful long arms.
Well, it could be he tied his
paintbrush onto a broomstick.
Well, let's the boy
with the education
tell us how he done it;
how did he do it, boy?
I don't know.
Well, uh... uh, tell us some
more about this Mike Angelo.
Uncle Jed, he
was a world beater.
When this rascal got
tired of painting pictures,
he'd just get hisself a big rock
and sculpt himself a statue.
Oh, he done some
sculpting, too, huh?
Oh, he was a
crackerjack sculptor.
There's this place called Rome.
They say you can't hardly
sail a pie pan in that town
without it will bang
into one of his statues.
Jed, if we can get some
of that Mike Angelo's stuff,
it would sure save
us a heap of work.
Miz Drysdale
wouldn't have to know
but what we done it ourselves.
Just don't seem honest.
Granny, this Mike
Angelo was a genius.
Why, he done his
work 400 years ago,
and to this day, ain't
nobody b*at him.
You see, Granny?
It wouldn't be right to palm off
no 400-year-old statues for new.
Well, I'm gonna
mix me up a bunch
of clay and go to mud sculpting.
Mud sculpting?
If this is gonna be a
first-class art gallery,
we got to have rock statues.
Well, why don't you
make that your job?
Hot dog.
I'm gonna find me a rock and
chisel me out a masterpiece.
Well, Granny, I
reckon that leaves
the painting up to us.
Most I ever done was
paint daisies on a churn.
You got me b*at.
Daubing paint on a
wall's as far as I got.
Well, you never know
what you can do till you try.
Yeah, reckon you're right.
Betwixt mud-sculpting,
rock-chiseling,
churn-painting and wall-daubing,
we'll fill our share
of this art gallery.
I just don't know how
the city of Beverly Hills
can ever show its appreciation.
Well, the use of one's name
on a building of this sort
would be a great honor.
Excellent idea.
We'll call it the
Clampett Art Center.
Mr. Engel, that was not
exactly what I had in mind.
You see, the Clampetts are
moving away from Beverly Hills.
Oh, my, we'll be sorry
to lose such generous,
civic-minded
patrons of the arts.
Yes... uh, however,
picking a name more
or less at random...
how about the Margaret
Drysdale Art Center?
It's settled, then.
What would you think
of shortening the name
to just Drysdale Art Center?
Oh, no.
That would give my
husband the credit.
Milburn doesn't
even know about this.
In fact, he isn't even in town.
At this very moment,
he's on his way to Palm Springs.
Mr. Drysdale, I really don't
think we should stop here.
You're not strong enough.
It's all right, Fredericks.
Open the door.
I'll rest better if I know
that all is well
with the Clampetts.
But, sir, you're
a very sick man.
I know.
Let me talk to the Clampetts.
I'll explain that
you're ill, sir.
No, don't do that.
Granny will want to doctor me.
In my condition
I'd never survive.
Oh, hi, Mr. Drysdale.
I thought for a minute,
your wife had come back.
My wife's been here?
Yeah, this young fella
fetched her over this morning.
She's got us all
painting and sculpting
to b*at the band.
Painting and sculpting?
Yeah, come on in and look.
The whole family
is shank-deep in art.
Mr. Drysdale, you
really shouldn't.
Not in your condition.
No, I'm feeling better.
Granny has got
a whole big platter
full of cold cuts in the icebox.
We can have us,
uh, jellied pigs' feet,
uh, owl giblets,
sliced groundhog and possum,
and plenty of cold potlikker.
I think we better
get to Palm Springs.
Right, Fredericks?
Yes, sir.
Immediately.
Well, ain't you even
got time for a glass
of cold goat's milk
or some turnip juice?
We have to hurry.
Well, that seems a shame.
How about taking a
little snack for the road?
No!
Granny's got some
fine gopher sausages.
No... Drive on, Fredericks.
I'll be back in a week.
Make that two weeks. Yes, sir.
By then, your wife will
have this place turned
into a first-class art gallery.
Fine. Bye.
Bye.
♪ ♪
Art gallery?!
(tires screeching)
Pa! Granny!
Y'all want to come
see my mud statues?
Dogged if you don't
look like one yourself.
Where's Granny?
She's busy turning out daisies.
You better get scrubbed
up before she sees you.
Well, I ain't done
sculpting yet, Pa.
Well, when you are,
go jump in a cement
pond, clothes and all.
And then run till
you're... (horn honking)
Is that Jethro?
Well, it must be.
What's that he's
got on the truck?
That boy went out
to find hisself a rock,
and dogged if I don't
think he's found one.
Is that a rock
or is that a rock?
That's a rock.
How'd you get it on the truck?
Just backed the truck up
to the hill and rolled it down.
What are you going to
do with that big thing?
I am going to chisel
me out a masterpiece.
How can you be sure
it's going to be one?
A great artist has got to suffer
before he can
create a masterpiece.
When that rascal
rolled over my foot,
I commenced putting
me in some suffering time.
Ooh, that throbs.
What you doing, Granny?
Painting daisies.
On the ceiling?
I've painted them
on everything else I could find.
(paint drips)
But this painting on the ceiling
is the most miserable
work I ever took on.
No wonder that Mike Angelo
give it up for
chiseling statues.
Drips on your face,
runs down your
arms... It's plumb awful.
Well, I must say that your, uh,
ceiling daisies don't come up
to the standard of
your... (paint drips)
It does drip, don't it?
If I don't find something
else better to paint on,
I'm going to give it up.
Well, maybe Jethro knows
what them other
artists uses to paints on,
that, uh, d*ck Van
d*ke and that bunch.
Jethro back, is he?
Yeah, he found
hisself a sculpting rock.
He's out front trying to
wrestle it off the truck.
Well, when he comes...
(thunderous rumbling)
(gasps) He made it.
What was that?!
It knocked three of my
statues off the bench.
That was Jethro
unloading his sculpting rock.
What's that, Elly?
Well, this here's
a possum, Granny.
How do you think
he'd look with a couple
of big, yellow daisies on him?
Daisies? Stand back.
I'll show you.
Ain't this a doozy, Uncle Jed?
I'm gonna chisel me out
a masterpiece and a half.
Did you hurt your foot again?
No, sir, I'm getting real smart
about handling these big rocks.
Well, uh, where you
aim to do your chiseling?
Out back by the cement pond.
How do you aim to
get the rock back there?
Should've left it on
the truck, shouldn't I?
Well, I'll just
have to chalk it up
to more suffering.
What is all this
about suffering?
All the great artists
does it, Uncle Jed.
Mostly they lives
in attics and starves.
And their paintings get
mean-mouthed something awful
till after they's dead.
I reckon I never starved
enough to be a good painter.
Well, they's a
quick way to suffer...
Just do what old
Vince Van Gogh done:
whack off a ear.
"Whack off a ear"?
Well, yes, sir. That's what
you call "instant suffering."
I believe starving's
got that b*at.
Well, I think they was
more to it than just suffering.
You see, after he
whacked off his ear,
he sent it over
to his sweetheart.
What for?
I reckon she admired it.
This Van Gogh fella,
was he a good painter? Yes, sir.
One of the greatest
that ever lived.
Well, why didn't he
just paint a picture
of his ear and send that?
Maybe he was too
poor to buy canvas.
Is that what the
regular artists paint on?
Yes, sir, mostly it's that.
Well, go fetch Granny some.
Well, I ain't just
sure where you get it.
Ask Miss Jane. She'll help you.
Well, yes, sir.
Oh, while I'm gone,
would you like to
roll my rock around
by the cement pond?
No, thanks.
It'd be a dandy way to suffer.
I believe I'll pass it up.
If Elly would like to
suffer... Forget it, boy.
♪ ♪
Granny, look what Miss Jane
fetched over for us to paint on.
Praise be. Jethro
stopped by the office
and told me of your plight.
My, you are desperate!
Granny does turn out
a nice daisy though.
Yes, yes, they're quite, uh,
quite impressionistic.
They's my specialty.
But I'm getting awful
sick of painting them.
Well, why don't you try
painting some other flowers?
I might just do that.
I'm so delighted by your
sudden new interest in art.
Jethro tells me his
ambition is sculpture.
Him and Elly, too, but
he's going at it the hard way.
Like to k*ll himself
getting that rock around back.
If suffering can do it,
that boy's going
to be a humdinger.
Mr. Bodine? Yes, ma'am?
Do you mind if I take a break?
Oh, heck no.
I've been holding this pose
an awfully long time.
Go ahead.
May I ask you a question?
Oh, yes, ma'am.
Have you ever done
sculpting before?
Oh, no, ma'am.
This here will be
my first masterpiece.
Well, why did you pick
me to pose for you?
I'm the most expensive
model in the agency.
You was the prettiest.
Well, thank you.
How long do you think
you're going to need me?
Till I'm done with the statue.
Oh, here come some visitors.
I'd better resume my pose.
Okeydoke.
Greetings, Jethro.
Howdy, Miss Jane.
You're sure going
through that rock like sixty.
Thank you.
Where did you get
the beautiful model?
Model agency.
She gets $50 a hour.
Now I know why so
many of them artists
was poor all the time.
At that price, I'm glad
Elly is sculpting critters.
She thinks she made such
a all-fired good possum.
Wait till she sees the
one that I'm making.
(chipping)
Wait a minute, boy.
You are sculpting a possum?
It's going to make
Elly's look sick.
What's she doing?
JETHRO: She's posing.
What for?
Uncle Jed, you
can't be a real artist
without you got a beautiful
model posing for you.
Here you are, ma'am.
Just peel off whatever
you got coming
and, uh, thank you kindly.
Mr. Engel, did you have in mind
a plaque of about this size?
Well, before we go into that,
hadn't we better get
Mr. Clampett's signature
on this grant deed? Oh.
(door opens)
Well, howdy there,
Mrs. Drysdale.
Mr. Clampett, I'd like you
to know Mr. George Engel,
the chairman of our
Fine Arts Commission.
Well, I'm proud to meet you.
My pleasure, Mr. Clampett.
Mrs. Drysdale, I'm
afraid we only got
one room filled so far.
Filled with what?
Masterpieces, art
treasures and such.
How thrilling! May we see them?
Yes, ma'am. Step right in.
Oh!
Granny? Elly May?
First visitors to the
art gallery's here.
Howdy, Mrs. Drysdale!
Granny, this here is Mr. Engel.
He's a high muckety-muck
when it comes to art.
This here is, uh, my
daughter, Elly May.
Elly, show Mr. Engel
your mud sculpting.
Yes, sir, Pa.
These are the flowers I
painted, Mrs. Drysdale.
These are my daisies.
Now, these is sunflowers.
And these is lilacs.
Oh, no, no...
They're nasturtiums.
Oh, I forgot my hollyhocks!
I'll be right back.
This is a possum.
That's a pussycat.
That's a hound dog
and yonder's a fox.
By the way, Elly, what's this?
Oh, that's you, Pa.
Me? I run out of critters.
Mr. Engel, this
rock sculpting here
was done by my nephew, Jethro.
He's so proud of it,
he's out looking
for another rock...
(thunderous rumbling)
There he is.
Jethro, you unloaded
your rock out front again.
No, I didn't.
It slipped the ropes
and rolled off the truck.
Whose car is that out front?
Mine.
Are you by any chance an artist?
Well, a matter of
fact I am. Why?
Well, if you ain't done
your suffering for today,
just step out and
take a look at your car.
(theme song playing)
♪ Well, now it's time
to say good-bye ♪
♪ To Jed and all his kin ♪
♪ And they would
like to thank you folks ♪
♪ Fer kindly droppin' in ♪
♪ You're all invited back
next week to this locality ♪
♪ To have a heapin'
helpin' of their hospitality ♪
♪ Hillbilly, that is ♪
♪ Set a spell ♪
♪ Take your shoes off ♪
♪ Y'all come back now, y'hear? ♪