02x33 - A Man Greatly Beloved

[bunniefuu]

Good evening.

Good heavens.

He looks like
a toothpick holder
on an hors d'oeuvre table.

Oh, well, I guess
I'll just have to practice
some more.

So much for the sideshow.

Now, turn your attention
to the center ring

where you will find
our main attraction.

My name is Hildegard.
Hildegard Fell.

I'm writing about
my hometown,
Essington, Massachusetts

and especially
about Mr. Anderson.
Mr. John Anderson.

I'm trying to be
absolutely honest

about everybody,
including myself,

and that's
the hardest part of all.

My mother and father
don't understand me.
No one does really.

My father is a minister,
and it's not nice
to criticize him,

but I think he's just the
teensiest bit too good-looking
for a minister.

Now, my mother,
she's not a bit too beautiful,

she's just right.

Someday
when my teeth grow back in,

I'll probably look
just like her.

I must say,
whenever Hildegard
is this quiet,

it usually means
the worst is about to happen.

Now, Richard,
she's behaving beautifully.

She's probably just...
Just doing her homework.

Homework! She's probably
writing a poison-pen letter.

Richard!

You see what I mean?
Nobody understands me.

But I mustn't
get off the subject.

My story is really about
this Mr. John Anderson.

A stranger in our midst.

The only thing
we knew about him was that
he came from Boston.

I found that out by peeking
in his mailbox.

He turned out to be
the kindest man I ever knew.

Of course, it didn't
start out that way.

It seems he wouldn't let
the church bazaar committee

use his garden
for their annual affair.

That's when I decided
to take matters
into my own hands.

I thought,
"How could he resist me?"

Hi.

I knew I could make you
look up again.

It's called
thought transference.

What do you want?

Oh, nothing special.

Well, go away!

Thank you so much
for asking me to come in.

I didn't, as I remember.

I'm sure you meant to.

I'm Hildegard Fell.

My father's the minister,
but we're not a bit alike.

No, I'm quite sure of that.

Now, if you don't mind,
run along. I'm busy.

I guess you're not used
to having visitors, are you?

Well, at home
whenever we have company,

we always serve tea,
or something.

Of course, personally,
I prefer a lemonade.

All right.

With an olive.

Lots of ice, please.

Which shall I be,
the white or the black?

Now look here, you leave that
chess board alone.

I'm right
in the middle of a game.

Hmm.

Hmm.

I've been playing for years.

I suppose
your father taught you?

Oh, no. I taught him.

But he isn't very good.

He doesn't concentrate
very well,

except when he's
in the middle of a sermon.

Then he goes on and on
and on.

If you would ever
go to church on Sundays,
you'd see for yourself.

You seem to know a lot
about my activities,
or lack of them, young lady.

Oh, I know everything
about everybody in Essington,
except you.

Are you married,
Mr. Anderson?

Doesn't seem so, does it?

Oh, that doesn't
mean anything. Your wife
could have died or something.

What made you say that?

Nothing.

I just think everybody
ought to be married.
Thank you.

Of course,
I'm not married yet,
but I have someone picked out.

Oh, and who is the fortunate
young man?

His name is Clarence.
He works in a bank in Boston.

And since you come
from Boston, I thought
you must know him.

How do you know
that I come from Boston?

Well, there are
a number of banks,
and Boston is a big place.

I only see him
when he comes to visit

my best friend
in the whole world.

Old Mrs. Whiteford.
She's his aunt.
Do you know her?

No, I can't say
I've ever had that pleasure.

She's just about your age.
She isn't married either.

Oh.

Do you play chess with her?

Oh, no.
We hold séances together.

She's taking
a correspondence course
on how to be a medium.

And what does your father,
the good Reverend,
have to say about that?

Oh, he doesn't mind too much
because he doesn't know
about it.

And besides,
it's only pretend!

I'm about the only friend
Mrs. Whiteford has.

Well, she's very lucky
to have a friend like you.

I could be your friend, too,
if you'd like.

But I'd have to
think about it first.

Oh, I wouldn't waste
your time on me, Hildegard,
if I were you.

I'm too old and weary
to be rewarding.

Check!

Well, Hildegard, I'm afraid
the game is over.

Not yet.

Mate.

Good heavens! You've won.

I did.

Mr. Anderson,
would you please show
all the people in town

that you're not the mean,
old selfish man
they say you are.

I beg your pardon!

Well, that's what
everyone is saying

just because
you won't let the bazaar
be held in your garden.

And it's been
held in this place
for the past years.

So now they're
sending children over

to try and accomplish
the work they couldn't do
for themselves.

Well, I intend
to remain the mean old man
they say I am.

The answer is no!

I won't have people prying
into my private affairs!

Now, you run along.

I never thought
you'd be such a bad loser.

Well,
my first attempt
to win Mr. Anderson

wasn't very successful.

That's when I decided
to discuss it
with Mrs. Whiteford.

Craddle-dee-cree.

Cree... Cragged.

Crow... No.

Oh, I've forgotten again.

I'll never make a go of it,
Hildegard.

I'll never get through
to my contact, Naomi.

Why can't I remember?

You're just not concentrating.

Oh, but I am!

But how will I ever get to be
a full-fledged medium

if I can't contact
the spirit world?

And Naomi
will never get to know me.

Oh, dear.

Don't feel bad,
Mrs. Whiteford.

You'll get through to Naomi
some day,

and when she gets to know you,
she'll love you
just as much as I do.

Thank you.

Mrs. Whiteford,
since Clarence works
in a bank

it means he ought to
know about everybody,
doesn't it?

Or at least he could
find out.

Find out what, dear?

About Mr. Anderson!
I wonder what he's hiding?

If I could only make
my contact with Naomi,

I could ask her.

Here, you read the formula
to me again.

I feel that Naomi
is very near.

Craddle-dee-crow.
Crow.

Craddle-dee-crow.
Craddle-dee-crow.

Craddle-dee-crow.
Mrs. Whiteford?

Huh?

Oh. Oh, dear.
We were just starting
our exercises.

Dear Clarence.

We're just going to have tea.

Well, hello, there,
Hildegard.

Good evening, Clarence.

Well, what about a big hug?

Not until we're engaged.

Oh, I see. Blackmail, huh?

Blackmail? What's that?

That's a payment
extorted by intimidation.
A very powerful w*apon!

I don't know what you mean.

Well, it means that
I can't hug you until I agree
to become engaged.

Now do you see?

Well, will it work
if I wanted something
from someone else?

Well, knowing you,
it probably would.

Now, can we at least
shake hands?

Oh, come on.

Clarence, do you know a man
by the name of John Anderson
in Boston?

John Anderson?
Yes.

Why? What did he do to you?

Nothing. But do you know
a man by that name?

Well,
there was a Judge Anderson
that I knew about.

A Judge? Oh, dear.

This Judge Anderson was known
for being a recluse.
Recluse?

Here, here. That's enough.
That means a hermit.

He was also known
for some of
the strictest decisions ever.

He retired a short while ago.
But I have no idea
where he is now.

I'll bet I do.
He's right here in Essington.

The meanest,
hardest-hearted hermit
that ever lived.

Perhaps it wasn't
the same man, Hildegard.

But it could be.

Well, then Essington
should be proud of such
a distinguished citizen.

He has sent more
blood-thirsty murderers
to their just rewards

than any other man
on the bench.

Oh, how exciting.

If he is the Judge,

he certainly doesn't
seem to want anyone
to know about it.

He just sticks around
that old house of his

and won't let anyone
come near him.

You don't like him
very much, do you?

He doesn't
want anyone to like him.
But I think I do anyway.

There's something sort of sad
about him.

Maybe he's hiding out, then.

Maybe some of the murderers
he sentenced are still alive
and out of prison by now.

They may be out to get him.

I doubt that, Hildegard.

Now, let's see,
what were some of his
most famous cases?

There was the, uh...
The Cave m*rder*r.

Oh, tell us about it.

I certainly will not.
You're much too young
for that.

And let's see what else.
Oh, yes, there was a man
by the name of Louton

who m*rder*d his wife.

He got all the way to Morocco
before they caught up
with him.

And, oh, yes,
then there was

the Cistern m*rder.

But I'll save telling that
for some nice,
stormy night, huh?

I know who you are,
Mr. Anderson.

Or I think I do.

Oh?

Who am I?

Does the Cave m*rder
or the Cistern m*rder*r
mean anything to you?

Should they?

How about Morocco?

And Mr. Louton?

Who told you about this,
Hildegard?

A friend.
You're Judge John Anderson,
aren't you?

The man who sentenced
all those criminals.

It had to come out some time,
even in this small town.

Have you told anyone
about this, Hildegard?

Not yet.

But I should think
you'd be glad to have people
know how famous you are.

Think of all those bad people
you've punished.

Being sent to the gallows
or spending years in jail

isn't very nice
to think about, Hildegard.

But if they deserved it,
it's right, isn't it?

Only the good Lord
can answer that, Hildegard.

He alone knows
who the guilty really are.

Are you afraid
one of those bad people
you sentenced

will come after you?

Oh, I hardly think so.

I think they feel as I do,

that their punishment
was just.

Well, then, I have to go now.

I have to tell everyone
in Essington who you are.

No, I don't want you
to do that, Hildegard.

I know how hard it is
for anyone to keep a secret,

especially little girls.

But won't you do this for me?

Okay. But you'll have to do
something for me.

Oh? What is that?

If we can use your gardens
for the bazaar,

I won't let
anyone in Essington
know who you are.

Blackmail, hmm?

Yes.

Don't you know that
that is against the law?

You'd have to
tell them first.

But, Hildegard, please.

Think of all those people
tramping around my garden,

stepping on my grass,
spoiling my roses.

I knew you'd say yes.
Let's shake.

You promise
you won't mention my name?

You can imagine
how pleased I was

with having won
Mr. Anderson over that way.

And I did mean
to keep my promise.

Even though
I did cross my fingers.

Everything seemed to be
going smoothly

till the day of the bazaar.

Then it started to rain.

And the Melrose Quartet,
the star attraction,
got an appendix.

Mother was terribly upset.
But then I fixed everything.

How do you do?

Mr. Anderson,
what a lovely bazaar.

It was so sweet of you.
Won't you have some cake?

You know, I made it myself.

Or some punch,
Mr. Anderson.
You're very kind.

You'll just love the punch.
Oh, Mr. Anderson.

Mr. Anderson?

Reverend,
isn't it wonderful?

Yes. Mr. Anderson?

I wanna thank you
for your kind generosity.

The church is indebted to you.

Since it did rain,
we could have held the bazaar

at someone else's house.

Then why didn't you?

Well, it was a little late

to notify everyone
about a change,

and we did want to
get to know you better,
Mr. Anderson.

Come on,
Mrs. Whiteford.

Come on,
we have to tell them
all about it.

Oh, look at the cakes.
Aren't they beautiful?

Hi, Mrs. Crow.

Hi, Hildegard,
how sweet you look.
Mrs. Whiteford.

Isn't this fun,
Mr. Anderson?
Yes.

Daddy, guess what?
Thank you.

I'd rather not.

Since the Melrose Quartet
is incapacitated,

Mrs. Whiteford has volunteered
to take their place.

Oh, how nice, Mrs. Whiteford.

I didn't know you could sing.

Oh, dear, I can't.

She's not going to sing.

You go get ready.
I'll handle this myself.

Well, all right, dear.

How nice of you, dear.
What are you going to do?

Richard, what do you think
she's going to do?

Daddy,
how do you spell séance?

Séance? Séance?

Hildegard, don't you realize
this is a church bazaar.

I can't sanction
anything like that.

Oh, Daddy. It's only pretend.

Everybody knows that
except Mrs. Whiteford.

It's absolutely
out of the question.

Oh, Richard.
It's just for charity.

And besides, it may be
lots of fun. Come on.

Well, now this might make
the whole thing worthwhile.

Séance.

Séance, hmm?

S-E-A

N-C-E.

S-E-A-N-C-E?

Mmm-hmm.

Ten cents for a ticket.
Ten cents for a ticket.

All ready for the séance.

Daddy, when I tell you to,
you turn out the lights, huh?

Supposing
I forget the formula?

I won't let you
forget the formula.

I'll stand
right behind the screen

and prompt you if you do.

Now go on.

Daddy,
turn out the light, huh?

Good evening.

Now, if you'll please
put your hands before you
on the table.

I must caution you,
we must have absolute quiet.

Craddle-crow. Craddle-cree.

Craddle-crow.

Naomi.

Naomi.

Naomi.

Come out, come out,
wherever you are.

Crad-cree.

Naomi, please come out.

You know how much
this means to me.

I'm here,
what do you wish?

Is that really you?

Of course.

How remarkable.

How good to hear your voice.

Could you speak
a little more clearly?

You sound as though
you had marbles in your mouth.

I'll try.

What do you want to know?

Oh, dear, I don't know.

Is there anything
you want to say?

Is there anything
you have to tell us?

Help me, Naomi, please.

Forgive me, Mr. Anderson.
I have to do this
for Mrs. Whiteford.

There is something else,
something very important.

It's coming clearer,
much clearer.

Yes, yes, what is it?

It's about a newcomer
to your town.

He calls himself
Mr... Mr. John Anderson.

I can see him
with a hammer
in his hand. Wait.

It's a wooden hammer,
and I see him
on a big high bench.

Yes, he's in black robes.
He's a judge.

A very famous judge.

Judge John Anderson.

A judge, a famous judge.

Ooh, isn't that exciting?

Fancy him being right here
in this town.

Is this true, sir?

Judge Anderson.

I know
it was a mean thing to do
to tell on him that way.

But it was the best thing
that could have happened.

Mr. Anderson
became a changed man.

He couldn't do enough
for everybody.

Father
was particularly delighted

because Mr. Anderson
donated a stained glass window
to his church.

And now comes
the sad part of the story.

Mr. Anderson died.

It was inevitable, they said.

But he was my first friend
who did that,
and it made me feel awful.

"He contributed
much to his community.

"He was a man
most respected."

I'll get it.

"He was a man
greatly respected."

Oh, Clarence, come in.

Good afternoon, Reverend Fell.
Good afternoon, Mrs. Fell.

Hello, Clarence.
Good to see you again.

Hi, Hildegard.

Hi, Clarence.

Nothing wrong
with your aunt, I hope.

No, Aunt Aggie is fine.
But I...

I wonder if I could
speak to you alone
for a moment.

It's about Mr. Anderson.

Of course,
come into my study.

Excuse me.

Sit down, Clarence.

I was just going
over my eulogy

for Mr. Anderson's funeral
tomorrow.

We're all gonna miss him.
Especially Hildegard.

I know. That's why
I had to speak to you
in confidence.

You see, sir...

It seems I made a mistake
about Mr. Anderson.

What do you mean, a mistake?

Well, I found out
today at the bank

that Judge Anderson
did retire,
but he went to California.

The man here in Essington,

who called himself
John Anderson,

was actually a fellow
by the name of John Louton.

Louton?

Yes, sir. John Louton.

The man who strangled
his wife.

I guess he thought
it was a good joke

to take the name of the man
who sentenced him.

He spent years in prison.

The whole town
is going to be very upset.

Especially Hildegard.

I guess he made
a fool of all of us.

I don't agree with you,
Clarence.

But I suppose
I will have to change
the text of my sermon.

Now, let me see,
there's something in
the Book of Daniel, I think.

Oh, yes,
chapter , th verse.

"A man greatly beloved,

"understand the words
that I say unto thee."

As far as
we're all concerned,

that's all we have
to remember.

And all we ever have to say.

And Mr. Anderson
was a man greatly beloved.

He did good things

and never told on anyone
even when they told on him.

He was the kindest man
I ever knew,

next to my father.

Thus ends tonight's story.

After seeing it,

I think you'll treat
your neighbor more kindly.

After all, he may be
a former ax m*rder*r.

Of course, there's nothing
to worry about.

He's probably out of practice.

I hope
you'll join us next time

when we shall present
another story of mystery

andlor suspense.
Good night.