02x36 - The Kibitzers

Episode transcripts for the TV show "My Three Sons". Aired: September 29, 1960 - April 13, 1972.
Widower Steve Douglas raises a trio of boys.
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02x36 - The Kibitzers

Post by bunniefuu »

(theme song plays)

Well, I guess I could do that.


What do you mean, call Wendy?

Jeepers, are they here again?


Well, sure, but I can't

just up and call
her just like that!

Jeepers, every time Bub plays
pigknuckles, we don't get to eat

around here till the middle
of all the good shows.

Pinochle, not pigknuckles.

Well, of course I am,

but I don't want her
to know I'm interested.

Two ten.

MIKE: No, I don't
want Wendy to know.

The boy must be having
some strain with the Pilcher girl.

Oh, a lot of girls named Wendy.

Doesn't necessarily
mean it's Wendy Pilcher.

MIKE: Yeah, well,
that's another problem.

The one time I did call her,

Mr. Pilcher answered and
gave me the third degree.

Told you it was
the Pilcher girl.

Oh, come on and play cards,

and quit listening to
Mike's conversation.

There's not a girl living
that can't be maneuvered.

(doorbell buzzing)

Come in.

MIKE: Okay, Doug,
I'll see you later.

(hangs up phone)

Is Chip home?

Oh, Chip!


I'm going out to
the car for a minute,

but if by any chance a girl
named Wendy Pilcher calls,

try and find me no
matter where I am.

But act casual.


And don't let her get the
idea that I'm interested in her,

'cause she's not
interested in me.

I got a girl interested in me.

That's swell, Sudsy.

Now, don't foul me up, Bub.

I gotta find some way of
making Wendy notice I'm alive.


This girl's been
interested in me

ever since my Uncle Matthew
gave me five dollars for my birthday.

Now, don't forget, Bub.

Don't know why that Pilcher
girl's playing hard to get

with a nice-looking
kid like Mike.

You know women.

Yeah. They've always
gotta complicate things.

Oldest trick in the world.

Keep a man wondering,
worried and waiting.

Sounds like me.

Come on, let's play cards.

SUDSY: Hi, Chip. Can
you come out and play?

Nuh-uh, that dumb Mrs. Bergen

gave me five extra
pages of arithmetic to do.

Jeepers, how come?

On account I put something
on her desk, and it leaked.

Why didn't you sop
it up with something?

I couldn't; it was an ant farm.

Oh. You can't
hardly sop up ants.

While you're trying
to sop up one,

the other ones run up your arm.

Yeah. Anyway, Mrs. Bergen got
real sore after she quit screaming.

Must be the Larson girl
that married Ralph Bergen.

Oh, yeah.

Two sixty.

Chip's teacher named
Hildegarde Bergen?

I think so.

How about bidding?

Oh, uh, two seventy.

Two eighty.

How come you put an ant
farm on Mrs. Bergen's desk?

It was part of my
composition about

"Our Happy Underground Friends."

Anyway, Mrs. Bergen
hates me from the time

I held Margaret Potter up
in the air on the seesaw.

It's not your fault you're
heavier than Margaret Potter.

Yeah, but I guess she was
sore 'cause I held her up there

while I was eating
my whole lunch.

Ain't fair for a grown-up
woman to pick on one little kid.

Well, Hildy Bergen always
did have a mean streak.

Two ninety.

Oh, don't pay any
attention to Chip.

He's never satisfied unless
he's takin' cracks at his teacher.

Oh... I bid 300.

Hey, Bub? Yeah?

You bid 300 on that?

That's what I said.

O'Casey, you're
gonna get "bate."

You got me scared to death.

Hurry up and make
him listen to you.

I'm getting sick from the smoke.

Hey, Bub, can I go over Sudsy's?

How about that extra
homework Mrs. Bergen gave you?

Oh, well, I'll do it over there.

Well, okay, go ahead.

Oh, boy!

The kid's right about
the smoke in here.

Steve ought to put
in air-conditioning.

Yeah, I never smelled
air in such a condition.

You know, I believe Steve'd
go for that air-conditioning,

if he could get the right deal.

You know, a friend of mine
went in the air-conditioning game.

Made money hand
over fist. (sniffing)

What are you smoking
in that pipe, streetcar


This pipe's out.

Well, it must be
your cigar, then.

It smells like b*rned potatoes.

b*rned potatoes!

I hate to see a house
full of troubles like this.

Yeah, something ought
to be done about it.

Anybody home?

Guess not.

"Steve, gone
shopping across town,

"where I can get
some cheap bargains

"to go with the miserable
old household allowance I get.

Back for dinner. Bub."


"Dear Dad, can I
go over to Sudsy's?

"If I can't just call me up,
'cause that's where I am.

Your son, Chip."


The distance between the
window and the French doors

is six feet, uh, two
and a half inches.

Uh, pardon me.

You know, I thought I heard
someone yelling down here.

Yeah, uh, wh-what are you doing?

I mean, uh, just who are you?

Oh, name's Hewlitt.
Hanley Hewlitt.

Mr. Hewlitt.

Oh, uh, this is my
partner, Dave Crockett.

Mr. Crockett.

Don't ever call him Davy
Crockett... makes him sore.


Uh, my name is Douglas.
CROCKETT: Uh, did, uh,

Hewlitt here tell you,

you ought to lower the
ceilings a couple of feet?

Lower the ceilings?

Didn't have a chance to, Dave.

Just met Mr. Douglas.

I-I-I haven't the remotest idea

what you fellas
are doing here. I...

Oh, uh, Major Smithfield sent
us over to give you an estimate.

Major Smithfield?

Are you sure you're
in the right house?

Sure, we're sure.

One of the precepts we live
by is never to foul up addresses.

Well, here's your estimate.

Uh, you won't do any
better, but shop around.


Hmm, you gotta remember,

me and Crockett here, we
don't just walk into a man's home

and slap a lot of junk around.

We engineer the whole deal.

Well, yes, I'm sure
you do, but, uh...

The phone number's
on there if you want us.

Come on, Hanley.

Look, uh, fellas...

Uh, don't call us on
weekends, though.

Me and Hewlitt's in a
bowling tournament.

Well... Oh, yeah.

Your kid... the
one that let us in...

Said to tell you he's
eating over at Hank's.

Well, that's fine,
b-but would you mind

telling me, uh, what
this estimate is for?


Air-conditioning?! But...

Dad, I got it made with
Wendy Pilcher! (stammers)

With, uh... with who?

Wendy Pilcher, the girl
I've been telling you about.

Somebody told her
that I'm being scouted

for a big Hollywood
movie company.

Oh, why would anybody do that?

I don't know. But
it sure worked.

By some strange coincidence,
she just happened to be

outside the door of every
class I went to today.

Well, $1,836.

For what? Air-conditioning.

But don't call them
on a weekend,

because they're in a
bowling tournament.

Who? Uh, Davy Crock...

Uh, I mean, David Crockett
and, uh, Major Smithfield.

(humming a tune)

Jeepers, Bub, you know what?

Wait a minute. Wait a minute.

Wait... what's going on?

Mrs. Bergen's coming
down the street. So what?

Yeah, but it's Saturday
and everything.

Well, what do you think
teachers do over the weekend...

Crawl back under their rock?

Hey, she's coming here.

Now, wait a minute.
Come here! (Tramp barks)

What have you done
that's so terrible?

Come back here.

(doorbell buzzes)

Well, well, come
in, Mrs. Bergen.

Hello, Mr. O'Casey.

Ah, Chip isn't home.

He's gone up in the hills
to visit an uncle of his, but...

I'm not here to see Chip.

Oh? Well, come in and
sit down for a minute

and rest your feet.

Mr. O'Casey, I can
stand for most anything.


But I will not put up with
blackmail in the fourth grade.


I don't for a minute think
that Chip sent the letter.

The style is much too advanced,
as well as the handwriting.

You mean you got a
letter from someone?

I certainly did!

Do you ever go to
Bryant Park, Mr. O'Casey?

Well, yes. Yes, I do.

Yes, well, ever on the Fourth
of July several years ago?

Yes, I suppose I've been there.

You know the lake, then?

Yes, especially
that spot they call

"Lovers' Lagoon," where the
pond lilies bloom so beautifully and...

Hmm, I thought so.

Well, in spite of what you
seem to think, Mr. O'Casey,

Alfred Montrellis and I never
got past the hand-holding stage

the day our canoe
drifted into the willows!

Alfred who?

You spelled it well
enough in your letter.

Now, I warn you, Mr. O'Casey,

your mafia methods
don't scare me.

I will continue to give
Chip extra arithmetic

until he improves
in the subject.

Do I make myself clear?

Yes, you do, except that I don't

understand one thing
you're talking about.

Oh! That is about the
most ridiculous thing I ever...

Now, Mrs. Bergen,
wait a minute, will you?

Don't just walk...
(mutters): in my life.

Well, how do you
like a thing like that?


What are you doing
up so late, Chip?

Mrs. Bergen.

Well, what's that
supposed to mean?

She gave me some
extra arithmetic.

And I just finished it.


I always got along pretty
good with Mrs. Bergen.

Now, wait till you get
Mr. Roudebosh in the fifth grade.

I don't think I'll get that far.

He always had it in for me.

He thought I was the guy who
dumped the raspberry Jell-O

in the tropical fish t*nk.

Does an adding machine
cost a lot of money?

Yeah, I think so.
Well, maybe I could just

rent one, till Mrs. Bergen
gets sore at somebody else.

Well, Dad's not going to let
you use an adding machine to do

your arithmetic.

Grown-ups use them to do theirs.

Yeah, well, kids have
to do it the hard way.

An adding machine
probably wouldn't know how

to multiply or divide, anyway.

Oh, don't close it.

Hey, you guys are up
kind of late, aren't you?

About six girls called you.

Yeah? Maybe they heard

I'm being, uh,
scouted for pictures.

Yeah, well, they sure must
be pretty dumb to believe that.

I wrote down their names.

Come on, Tramp.

Hey, Chip, you forgot
to put your junk away.

Hey, Chip!

Ah, darned kid.

You know, it's, uh,
it's not impossible

that a movie scout's
interested in me.

Oh, no! You start
off that dopey story

to impress some
dumb girl and no...

now you got
yourself believing it.

I didn't start it.

Well, then somebody did.

Well, you know, it,
uh, it might be true.

Oh. Uh, well, then where's
the movie scout hiding?

In the broom closet?

Look, smart guy, the
way Wendy Pilcher's

hanging around
me all of a sudden,

she must think it's
possible. She ought to know.

She sees practically
every movie that's out.

Oh, well, she sure
must need glasses.

If the deal was right, I wouldn't
mind making a few pictures.

Oh, gee, Mr. Douglas,
can I have your autograph?

That's very funny.

But sooner or later,
somebody has to take over

for guys like, uh, Gregory Peck,

and Burt Lancaster,
Jimmy Cagney...

Boris Karloff.

Donald Duck.

Hey, you didn't
put your junk back!

Darned kids.

(imitates Cagney):
All right, you guys,

now it's time to make a sundae.

Two hundred.

Two ten.

(door closes)

Hey, Bub, guess
what? I got nominated!

That's swell. Yeah!

I pass. It's for freshman
class president!

How about that? Don't you
ever say "hello" to anybody

when you walk in a room?
Oh, yeah, I'm sorry. Hi.

Hi, Robbie. I'm going to
run against Rango Milford.

Oh, that must be Yip
Milford's grandson.

Yeah. Two twenty. I
don't expect to b*at Rango.

But heck, it's pretty good just
getting nominated. Two thirty.

You want to be president
pretty bad, don't you?

Well, sure. Who wouldn't?

Only, Rango's the
most popular freshman

we got at school.


Are you two guys gonna bid,

or you're just gonna
sit there gassin'?

Well, it's his bid.

Two fifty.

(phone ringing)
I'll get it, Bub.


Oh. Yeah, well, I'll ask him.

Bub, Chip wants to know

if he can eat dinner
over at Sudsy's tonight.

Let me talk to him.

Did Mrs. Bergen give you
extra arithmetic for tonight?

She did?

Well, then, you come
home here and do it.

Some people never learn.

I don't care if Sudsy's mother

is serving fillet of
strawberry sundae.

You get home here!

Now, let's get back to the game.

(door closes)


BUB: Well, what's eating you?

Well, Wendy Pilcher found out

I'm not being
scouted for Hollywood.

Well, now, isn't that too bad?

Well, I guess that
just about ties it.

I don't know what to do now.

Well, look out for
that phone cord.

Poor kid.

Poor kid?

He's moaning over a
new girl every 20 minutes.

Play cards.

O'Casey, the
trouble with you is,

you don't care what
happens to people.

(phone ringing)

What do you want now?!

Who is it?!

Oh. Oh.

I didn't know that
was you, Steve.

Excuse me.

Yeah, this phone's been
ringing like this all day long.

Got me a little excited.

Will you let me have
that pad and pencil there?

I want to copy
something down here.

Uh, if a Mr. Cowley calls, what?

Well, will you... will you
have to quit your job?

Now, let me get this straight.

Cowley is the guy that's, uh...
making you the new offer, huh?

Uh, he's with the
Cowley Aviation people,

and you don't want Mr. Walters

to find out about it yet.

Mm-hmm, that's the way
you do it... play 'em against

each other.

Yeah, well, I just hope Steve
knows how to get the most

out of this situation.

Oh, shut up, you guys, will you?

I'm supposed to call you,

but not let on that
anything's going on, right?

Hey, look out!

Get that bale of
hay out of here!

I'm trying to talk
to your father!

Sorry, Bub.

Oh, well, you ought to be.

"Sorry, Bub."

Yeah, hello. No, no, no, Steve.

No, no, don't worry.

No, nothing's... Uh,
nothing's been broken,

except our conversation.

Cowley. Cowley Aviation.

No, Mr. Cowley, I am not
responsible for any phone calls.

Why should I try to pressure
you into making me a better offer?

I don't operate that way.

(receiver clicks)

Mis... Mr. Cowley?



Oh, Steve...

Steve, we've always had
a very fine association,

and I'd be the first

to credit you and your
work as being extremely

important to this company.

Well, thanks, Joe.

I know Cowley
Aviation is after you,

and I know their
offer is a good one.

We can't top it momentarily,

but I thought there
were other advantages

that might compensate.

Joe... The decision's up to you.

But please, Steve, let's cut
out all these childish games.

Phone calls from
anonymous congressmen,

letters from retired
Army majors,

telegrams from the Pentagon,

postcards from your mother.

From my mother?

You mean you got another letter?

Yes, I certainly did.

Now, you read this.

"Mrs. Bergen, may
I suggest once more

"that you lay off Chip Douglas?

"You're a nice
lady and all that,

"but let's reminisce
for a moment.

"Remember the time the
fight started in the malt shop,

"and you dumped
a pistachio frappe

down Margaret Tilliken's dress?"


Hey, that's great!

You think it's funny, do you?

Yes, I do.

I-I remember Margaret Tilliken,

and anyone that, uh,
dumps a load of pistachio

down her dress deserves a medal.

Then you admit to
knowing Margaret Tilliken?

Sure, I do.

She was a bad-tempered woman.

Uh, built like a pear.

I think it's time the
police looked into this.

Good-bye, Mr. O'Casey. Now,
wait a minute, Mrs. Bergen.

I didn't write that
note... honest, I didn't!

Believe me, Mr. O'Casey,

I don't like the
role of accuser,

but who else in this
house cares enough

about Chip's arithmetic grades
to go to lengths like these?

Well, we all care
about his grades.

Are you accusing
your grandchildren?


Are you accusing Mr. Douglas?

Of course not.

Whom does that leave?

Me. Exactly.

Now, wait a minute, Mrs.
Bergen. Will you wait...?

Oh, hi, Mrs. Bergen.
Hello, Mrs. Bergen.

I'm going to do my
arithmetic right now.

I'm sorry it has to
be this way, Chip.

Yeah, me, too.

I'll give you one more
chance, Mr. O'Casey.

However, if
there's a third letter,

it'll take it out of my hands

and put it in the
hands of the police.

You hear what she said?


Somebody sent
her another letter?

Did you ever hear
of anybody named,

uh, uh, Margaret Tilliken?


Never mind. Never mind.

When the, uh, pistachio
was spilled down her gown,

you weren't even born.

Wow, what happened to you?

(stammers) Yeah.

Oh, Rango Milford slugged me

right in the middle
of the study period.

Well, what for?

Ah, somebody paid
Morris Johnson a dollar

just to announce over
the P.A. system at school

that Rango flunked
freshman algebra five times.

Well, I'm a dirty, no-good
blackmailer. Not only that,

but-but, uh, Miss Fisher saw us
fighting. Yeah, well, Mrs. Bergen

gave me ten pages She sent us
down to the boys' vice principal.

Of arithmetic and
two chapters of history.

Keep quiet, will you?
I'm trying to listen...

Just stay out of this... I'll get
around to you. (all talking at once)

Phone calls.


Pretty warped sense of humor.


All I can figure is

that one of you guys
has got a big mouth.

No, no, Bub, it couldn't
be any one of us.

It's got to be someone else.

Yeah? Well, who else
knew all the family business?


Are you accusing
your own father?

Heck, no. Only, you asked
a question, and in school,

if we don't think up
some kind of answer,

we lose a petal off
our cooperation daisy.

(door opening)

There's your father now.

(door closes)

(phone ringing)

I'll get it.

(mutters): That Robbie...

Anonymous phone call, anyway.



We-We don't have any program on.

As a matter of fact, we
don't have the television on.

I'm sorry.

What do you know? They
do check those things.

Steve, if Mrs. Bergen
keeps getting these letters,

I'm gonna wind up in the
hoosegow for blackmail.

Yeah, and somebody's been
writing postcards and letters

and telegrams to Joe
Walters at the plant.

You, too? Yeah.

Mrs. Bergen got
another letter, huh?

She sure did.

She's beginning to think
I'm president of the mafia.

Yeah, and Mike got
goofed up with a girl,

and Robbie got a black eye,

and I've got so much
homework to do,

I'll be in the Army
before I ever finish it.

Really got a good one, huh?

Yeah. You know,
Dad, I was thinking

that, well, maybe
back in Scotland,

one of the Douglas clan did
something lousy to a MacDougal,

and now they're trying to
wipe us out or something.

(mutters) Oh, come on, Rob.

I'd just like to get my hands

on the guy that's
doing this, that's all.

Well, who do you
think it is? I don't know.

Well, it's got to be somebody
that's around here a lot

and knows what's going on.


No, if Sudsy wrote a
letter to Mrs. Bergen,

all she'd do is correct it.

Well, how about
that long-legged guy

that's around here so much?

Hank's his name. Oh, no.

No, no... Hank wouldn't do that.

(doorbell buzzing)
Why? I'll get it.

You better take
care of that eye, Rob.

Anybody for pinochle?

MAX: You want us to ring
again, or are you gonna ask us in?

BUB: Sure, come
on in, come on in.

We'll get things set
up. Yeah. All right.

Bub, what is Smitty's last name?


That's what I thought it was.

I'll bet he's the
one responsible

for this whole thing.

Now, listen, Steve,
I'm sure he's got...

Now, you listen to me. Do
you know what the name

of the man was who sent those
air-conditioning people over here?

(whispers): No.
Smithfield. Major Smithfield.

Was Smitty ever in the Army?

Well, yes, he was a corporal
in the National Guard.

Well, then, he gave
himself a promotion.

I'll bet that he's the one.

MIKE: You know, Dad,

they were here when I
was talking about Wendy

on the phone. They were?

Yeah, Dad, and I told
Bub right in front of them

about the election
and everything.

That's it. I knew it.

Well, Bub, that settles it.

You and your friends are going

to have to play
pinochle someplace else.

(sighs) Steve, uh, Max
and Smitty are alone.

No families.

And I guess, being around here,

they sort of got interested
and-and wanted to help.

After all, they were just, uh,
looking over our shoulders.


Well, it's fine
to be interested.

That's all right, Bub,
but doing what they are

doing, and... Steve,
when you get old,

I-I guess you sort
of feel the need

of being important to somebody.

And after all, I... guess
that's about all they wanted.

Yeah, I suppose.

But, Bub, we just can't
have that around here.

You understand that.

Yeah, I guess so.

So, you want me
to tell 'em, huh?

Well, they're your friends.


All right, I'll tell 'em.

But what'll I tell 'em?

Bub, they're disrupting
our whole family.

Just tell them

they can't play pinochle
here anymore, that's all.

All right, all right.


Oh, it's no use, Steve.

I-I can't do it.

You'll have to tell 'em.


All right.


Hello, Smitty.

What happened to O'Casey?

Well, he's, uh...

Look, uh, fellas, uh...

I-I-I'd like to say
something to you.

Sure, Steve.

Come on, sit down.

You in some kind of trouble?

Yeah, Smitty and I get a
real jolt out of helping out,

so just lay the
problem on the line.


Well, did you tell them?

Tell them?

Well, that's what you
went in there for, isn't it?

Well, yes, yes.

Uh, we-we had a very nice talk.

Well, they took it all right?

I mean, about no more meddling,

and playing pinochle
someplace else.

Well, Bub, it's not
quite that simple.

But you said... I-I
know what I said.

Uh, it's just that...

Well, did you
ever get the feeling

when you're talking to somebody

that you're not quite
getting through to them?

Most of the time.

(phone ringing)
Oh... I'll get it.


It's for you, Dad. Oh.

Sit down.

Your son-in-law's a
nice fella, O'Casey.

Well, I'll tell
him you think so.


He's kind of shy, though.


Has trouble saying
what's on his mind.

You-You know, I had a
nephew like that once.

Took a personality course.

Changed man.

You know, I think
Steve might profit

from something like that.

You know, I think
you fellas better sort of

keep out of this
family's business.

So far, you've, uh, fouled
things up pretty good.

Okay, okay, Bub, not
a... Whatever you say.

Yes, I did get a... an estimate

for air-conditioning
in the house here,

but, uh, well-well,
frankly, I don't feel

that I can afford it
at this time, so, uh...

A loan? What loan?

But I-I... I didn't
put an application in

for a-a home improvement loan.

I... Who?

Who did?

Major Smithfield.
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