Original subtitles

In those gray and grinding days of the Depression

we often found comfort in the old familiar proverbs.

We knew that in unity there was strength

that blood was thicker than water

that to err was human and to forgive divine.

Usually, we never examined these truths too closely

but in the autumn of 1934

I discovered, through pain and remorse

just how profoundly true they were.

Hey! What on earth you got here?

-It's a boat. -And it's all ours.

You know Mr. Carmichael, the one that owns

that house on Rockfish River?

-Yeah. -Well, it was his.

How much did he pay to haul it away?

-Let's get Jason and John-Boy. -And Mary Ellen.

We can unload it now.

Not now. We'll unload it after supper.

And after the dishes are done and the homework's finished.

-Oh, Daddy. -Daddy's right.

There's nothing more could possibly happen to this boat

that hasn't happened to it before.

We'll fix it up and sail on the pond.

And we're gonna give it a name.

Why don't we call it le-de-France?

I think that name has been taken, honey.

Might I suggest Cork?

Cork? Why call it Cork?

Cause cork is the floatingest material known to man

and you're gonna need all the help

you can possibly get for this sorry mess.

Oh, Grandpa.

You children oughta get a boat more often.

Erin, I'm not through yet. Now.

Can we work on the boat now?

-Do your homework? -Yeah.

Pa, let's set some sawhorses so they can work.

That's one way to keep her afloat.

There's nothing to fixing that boat.

Just put some bandages on it.

-Come on, John-Boy. -In a minute.

What's the matter, college man?

No time for us kids and our boat?

What are you smiling at?

Well, I was gonna ask you what's wrong

but you'd say, "Nothing, Mama, nothing."

So I'm not gonna ask.

Well, it's that special writing class

I've been trying to get into for a long time.

Is that it? They won't accept you?

No, they did accept me. That's the problem.

John-Boy, you've been talking about that class for months.

Don't you wanna get in it?

I just don't think I belong there.

Everyone else in the class is a sophomore.

They've even got a senior who's writing a novel in verse.

I'm the only freshman in the entire class.

-It's a feather in your cap. -That's true.

I just don't think I'm gonna measure up to it.

Brooding about it won't help. What you need is to keep busy.

I'm sure you'll find something to do on that boat.

Okay. Okay.

Maybe if we get it into shipshape

I can escape in it before class tomorrow.

Miss Barstow.

-Mr. Tatlock. -Here.

-Miss Webb. -Here.

Mr. Carpenter.

And, of course, our newcomer, Mr. Walton.

You weren't in the first class

so you missed my introductory speech, Mr. Walton.

However, so as not to deprive you, I'll repeat it.

In capsule form.

In a nutshell, I really can't teach you how to write.

You're either a writer, or you're not.

Let's tell Mr. Walton about your projects. Mr. Tatlock.

I'm writing a novella in which all the action is mental.

-Have you read Proust? -Some.

Then you know what I'm going for. It's very challenging.

It certainly is. Miss Barstow.

I'm doing a fantasy about the end of civilization

in which a handful of people are keeping knowledge alive

but at the end, you realize it's about the fall of Rome.

In other words, it's prophetic literature.

What are you working on, Walton?

-Short stories. -On what themes?

Well, family life.

I'm not too sure but what regionalism isn't dead.

Really, Miss Webb? Has anyone told Thomas Wolfe?

-What approach are you taking? -Pretty realistic, I think.

Well, Sinclair Lewis did some good reportage

but these days, I think you need a larger frame.

Exactly. You know, Mr. Walton

if you can do what Proust did with the French bourgeoisie

You must have sociopolitical overtones.

Or else, work is meaningless in this day and age.

Well, I just...write about my family

the way I see 'em, day-to-day experiences and such.

Good enough, Mr. Walton.

You're doing what every beginning writer should do.

Write about what you know.

That's all very well and good, but maybe he should know more.

Thank you, Miss Webb.

Miss Barstow, why don't you read for us from your new work?

"It seemed to Christina that the sound of the train wheels

would stay inside her head as long as she lived."

One, two, three.

-Pull! -Pull!

-Pull! -Pull!

-Erin, you're not pulling. -I am pulling, Jason.

-Well, pull harder. -Pull, Erin!

-Harder? I am, Jason. -Okay, okay, okay.

-Didn't budge an inch. -An inch is all it has to budge.

I got an idea. If we bend two trees and tie them

put the boat in the middle when we cut the trees, whammo!

-It'd be back together again. -Oh no.

-I saw it in a movie. -You made that up.

I think we should get Daddy.

No, we promised we'd do it ourselves.

So let's do it again. Come on.

Pull as hard as you can. Don't move it off the bench.

-Okay. -Ready?

-Pull! -Come on, Jason, go!

Pull!

-Just in time. -For what?

I've had a tough day.

John-Boy, you're not the only one going to school.

Yeah, I had a tough time. Got a D in spelling.

You're trying to close that seam?

Do I get to be captain if I figure out how?

It's a deal.

Let me have the ends of the rope, please.

Thank you.

Jim-Bob, I need....

Bring me that length of pipe there, alright?

Okay.

Now....

It's working.

Ben.

Now you see the value of one man with a little know-how.

You're a mechanical genius and you're smart, too.

I don't know. We did get him to do our work for us.

Like Tom Sawyer getting his friends to whitewash the fence.

You're reading too many books. That's bad for you.

-It's bad for you, you mean. -I better get in the house.

Hey, you gonna write about our boat? It'll make a good story.

Mary Ellen, last week I'd have thought so, too.

Right now, I'm not sure at all.

Come on. Let's get those sides hammered in.

-Get that hammer. -Nails.

John-Boy.

Come in.

You didn't eat any supper. I thought you might be hungry.

What's the matter?

Tomorrow I have to bring in a sample of my work.

Out of all the stories you'll find something good.

I think they're all good.

-But are they good enough? -Good enough for what?

Mama, the people in this class are....

They're very sophisticated. They're very discriminating.

It's not as easy to impress them as it is to impress you.

Since when have you been out to impress other people?

That's not what I mean.

They know so much more than I do about these things.

They're interested in very important themes for their work.

You feeling that your stories aren't serious enough?

That's exactly what I'm feeling.

I'm wondering if I have anything at all to say as a writer.

John-Boy, that is foolish.

It's a feels terrible, wondering if what you want to say

is important or meaningful to other people.

Your feelings are in an uproar

'cause you've to prove yourself to strangers for the first time.

That's gonna happen all the time from now on.

-You've to get used to it. -That's terrible.

I wish I could help.

When you were little it was so much easier.

You fell down, I could pick you up. You were afraid of the dark

I could show you there weren't any ghosts in the corner.

But now there's truly nothing I can do.

Except to tell you when to eat and that is now. Here.

I admit it. I'm starving.

Mom. Thank you.

Jason, your brother's trying to work.

Oh, hi, Olivia. Nice to see you.

Well, you know that material you ordered? It's here.

Thanks, Ike. Jason wants to know if his harmonica's here yet.

Oh, that Jason. He orders a harmonica yesterday

and he expects it today.

Here's something you might be interested in.

Grogan's Department Store is having a fall fashion show.

I never miss one of these.

You going, huh?

-I think I'll skip this one. -It's free.

No point in going all the way to Charlottesville

to look at a bunch of dresses I can't afford to buy.

That dress catch your eye, huh?

Ike, have you finished with this?

-Oh, sure. -Mind if I take it with me?

-Oh, no, go ahead. -Thank you.

Must be something pretty interesting in there, huh?

No, it's nothing special.

Oh, come in, come in, Miss....

-Mrs. Walton. -Mrs. Walton.

-Have a seat, please. -Thank you.

And what have you brought us?

-You've written a novel? -Oh, no.

This is my son's work. He's 18 and a very fine writer.

At least, I think so.

We want to believe that as much as you do.

After all, without new writers, what would publishers do?

Do you publish short stories?

Certainly. If they're good.

Do I leave these with you?

They're only a few samples. John-Boy's written a lot more.

You just leave them, Mrs. Walton

and we'll be giving you an opinion within the week.

The address is here.

And I'd appreciate it if you'd send your reply addressed to me.

My son doesn't know I'm here, and if you turn him down

it might be better if he never knew.

You should think more positively.

We just may consider your son's work good

and want to publish it.

-Think of that. -I will.

But I'd appreciate it if you send the reply addressed to me.

Certainly.

I look forward to reading your son's novel.

-Short stories. -Right.

We'll be in touch. Thank you for choosing us.

-Thank you. -Bye-bye.

Goodbye.

Ike, did my harmonica come in yet?

Stop it, will you? I'm sick and tired of you

coming in here and asking when that harmonica's gonna come in.

-Okay. -You know why?

-Why? -'Cause it came in.

Hot dog! Thanks, Ike.

Oh, look at that. Brand new.

Hold it. 94 cents. Cash on delivery.

Got it right here.

-Exact change. 94 cents. -Okay.

-It's a catchy tune. -I wrote it myself.

-Ike, got any Wings cigarettes? -Yeah, sure.

I'll take a pack of them and one of them chocolate bars.

Okay.

Here you go.

It's new. I couldn't wait to try it out.

You play that thing pretty good. You surely do.

-Your change. -Thank you.

-What else you do? -Oh, I play a little guitar.

-I sing. -Ever do it professional?

I won an amateur contest once.

Gonna be professional one of these days.

Maybe sooner than you think.

-How's that? -Well, that all depends.

Have you ever heard of Bobby Bigelow and the Haystack Gang?

Oh, sure. They play all over Virginia. What about them?

I travel with them and we need a new man in these parts.

You mean, I could play with the Haystack Gang. When?

Wait a minute. Slow down, boy. Like I said, it all depends.

-Bobby'd have to hear you. -When?

Well, now don't get your hopes up too much, you see.

'Cause Bobby's pretty picky.

But you show up at the Barn Dance Hall in Scottsville

a week from Friday at 5:00.

If you don't see me, you tell Bobby that Caspar Tice sent you.

-And then we'll see. -I surely will.

What's your name, so I can tell Bobby who to expect?

-Walton. Jason Walton. -Alright now.

A week from Friday, 5:00.

I'll be there. Thank you.

Ike.

Two weeks from now, I might be a real professional musician.

Your mom and your daddy are gonna

have the biggest surprise of their lives.

I don't think I'm gonna tell anybody

about getting to meet Bobby Bigelow until after it happens.

-You'll take the joy out of it. -No, Ike, really.

Promise me you won't mention it.

I'll say I met Mr. Tice and then later

if I do get a job, I'll tell the world.

So will I, and I'll keep your promise, too.

-Mum's the word. -Thanks, Ike.

Such industry.

The boat's beginning to look real good.

You all are doing a great job.

Thanks. How was your writing class today?

Oh, not so good.

I read them that story about Benji.

The terrier I had when I was a little.

-That one's good. I liked it. -I thought so, too.

But you know what the class said?

They said it was very nice. Nice.

Well, they could have said it was lousy.

Well, that's true.

Of course, I wasn't thinking about it that way.

I'm home. Sorry I'm late. I was at the library.

John-Boy, I thought you'd never get home. Here.

-What's this? -Read it.

"Majestic Press. Mrs. John Walton." This is yours.

-John-Boy, open it and read it. -Okay. Alright, I'll read it.

I'll read it.

"Dear Mrs. Walton, congratulations.

Your son is an exciting new talent in the regional vein."

-What is this? -Go on, read it.

"We are most eager....

We are most eager to publish his short stories."

What? Is this real?

They're going to publish me? Oh, my Lord!

Daddy! Daddy!

Mama! Grandma, Grandpa, come here!

Jason! Mary Ellen!

John-Boy, calm down!

Look at this. I'm gonna be published.

Look at that. "Majestic Press!"

I can't believe it. Look at this.

I've been writing in my diary ever

since I learned how to put words on paper. And it's gonna happen.

I'm going to be published. Listen.

"We are most eager to publish your short stories.

"We will need at least six more stories for a full-length volume

"and if they're of the same caliber as the earlier ones

a contract will be forthcoming."

They want six stories! I'll send them 16!

-Hey. You wanna hear something? -Jason!

John-Boy's gonna have a book come out!

-What? -Majestic Press!

They're gonna publish me! It's real!

Congratulations!

And Mama did it all by herself.

They say that behind every great man is a woman.

-You bear that in mind, Zeb. -Get thee behind me, old woman.

Has it been some day for this family.

John-Boy's getting published and I--

Mama, I'm dedicating this book to you.

-To Olivia Walton. -The whole family.

-Say, I met this man-- -This is what I'll do.

I'll dedicate it to Zebulon and Esther and John and Olivia

and Elizabeth and Jason and Mary Ellen....

-Easy now, easy now. -I couldn't believe it.

Easy.

Have you heard anything from your publishers yet?

No. I imagine it takes a little while.

I've sent them the six other stories they requested.

-And the contract's arrived? -Maybe today.

Which ones did you send them, John?

Well, I sent them some that I haven't brought in here

and the one about the dog. The one I read that last week?

Yes, I remember.

-Was that a wise choice? -Oh, yes.

I think it has the right sort of innocence

for a collection of early work.

Possibly. I think people will find it pleasant reading.

I hope I get a stronger response than that.

Then I hope so, too. Now, let's get back to the class.

Miss Barstow, are you ready to read?

"When her mother started to cry, Edna ran out into the street."

-Hello there. -Mr. Tice.

Hey, Bobby!

Come on.

Here's that boy I've been telling you about.

-What'd you say your name was? -Jason Walton.

-Bobby Bigelow. How are you? -I know.

I've admired your playing for a long time, sir.

Not too long, I hope. I'm barely out of diapers myself.

Caspar here tells me you play real good

and he liked the way you look.

How'd you like to play with the Haystack Gang?

Well, let's see what you do.

-Now? -No time like the present.

-You said you could sing. -Yes, sir.

Well, do us a chorus of something.

What do you like?

Would Sweet Betsy From Pike be alright?

-You bet. -Let her rip.

* Don't you remember sweet betsy from pike *

* Who crossed the big mountains with her lover Ike *

* They had two yoke of oxen and an ol' yeller dog *

* A tall shanghai rooster and a big spotted hog *

* Sayin' farewell pike county goodbye for a while *

* We'll come back again when we've panned down our pile *

* On an evening quite early they camped on the plat *

* Nearby the road on a green shady flat *

-Jason. Jason. -Yes, sir?

Let me tell you, son. You're good. Real good.

What did I tell you?

Well, thank you.

-You play real good. Doesn't he? -He's real good.

Thank you.

When I sign this, it means I'm a professional writer.

-Let me have a look at that. -It's just a standard contract.

-Hurry up and sign it. -Just one minute.

I just wanna say one thing before I do sign this, though.

This really is the happiest day of my life

and none of it would have been possible without you all.

Alright. Let me see this.

-I'm gonna go get the pen. -I'll get the ink.

Well, now look here. It says you have to be over 21

or a parent has to sign with you.

-Where? -Now let's just calm down a bit.

Maybe you missed some other things here.

If it's alright with you, I'd like Mama to sign it.

Now, Livie, just a second. Liv.

John-Boy.

You write it clear so they can read it.

-You oughta practice it first. -I'm just gonna sign my name.

Does it say anything about your picture on the cover?

-Mama. -I'm serious.

If it doesn't, you oughta write it in.

Here goes.

Maybe I oughta see about a contract.

You gonna be a writer, too, Jason?

No. I might get to play with Bobby Bigelow soon.

Guess what happened on my way to class.

A girl asked me for my autograph.

She probably thought you were real important.

Yeah, some movie star.

-Can I mail it? -John-Boy said I could.

-You can both mail it. -You both wash your hands.

It can't arrive all messy.

Please watch it! Watch it!

Now will you two stop that? This is important.

If it's alright, I'd like to mail it.

I'd like to get a little fresh air and think about all of this.

Can we watch you put it in the box?

Thanks, but I'd like to be by myself for this.

Why don't we work on the boat? Come on.

It's bedtime, so only take a couple of minutes.

You know what else happened to me today?

A professor I'd never even seen in my life

came up to me and said

"Mr. Walton you're getting to be a regular literary lion"

"around here, aren't you?"

Did you growl at him?

Liv, I know how important this is to John-Boy.

but signing a contract and having

a book published is a serious matter.

-He's running off to mail it-- -It's just so exciting.

Imagine, our son. A literary lion.

-Good. I'm glad you're still up. -John-Boy.

-Quite a day for you, Son. -Yes, it has.

I wanted to talk to you about that.

I was thinking out there on the road.

I don't really know how to say this.

Well, it seems to me that from now on

a lot more is gonna be expected of me.

I mean, from my fellow students and teachers and...everywhere.

And I'm gonna need a little more time to myself.

Jason's already taken over a big share of your chores, Son.

I know that. That's true.

That's not what I mean. I'm talking about the children.

I can't jump every time they call me, like with the boat.

I'd like you to tell 'em that 'cause I don't wanna hurt them.

If you're needing more time to yourself, son

maybe you oughta explain to them.

They'll understand. They know how much all this means to you.

Well....

Sure, okay.

I guess I'd better go upstairs and do some reading.

I might have to come up with a secondcollection soon.

Imagine that. A second book.

-Mr. Parks. -Yes.

Do you know who's the youngest writer ever published?

I don't believe I do, Mr. Walton.

But I could try and find out for you.

Or you could avail yourself of the library.

Yes, I think I'll do that.

John.

I belong to a literary society

that meets in Westham twice a month.

After telling them about you, they'd like you to come

and speak on the short story as a literary form.

Me?

-I guess I could give it a try. -Then I'll tell them you accept?

-Sure. -Okay.

John?

There's been another request for you to speak.

Yes, sir?

Are you familiar with a program called The Roving Reporter?

Yes, my family listens to it at home all the time.

Well, Timothy Collins, that's the reporter's actual name

he's a next-door neighbor of mine.

After hearing your good fortune

he expressed an interest in interviewing you on his program.

-He's gonna put me on the radio? -If you're willing.

He wants to come right into the classroom

and cut what he calls an electrical transcription.

That's one of those record things

and then they replay it when the program is broadcast?

That's right.

So you'll be in your living room

listening to the sound of your own voice in comfort.

Progress sure brings strange things with it.

Well, John, you don't have to make up your mind immediately

but I presume you could use a little publicity.

Be good for book sales, that sort of thing.

Oh, yes, I'd like to.

Maybe I could read a story, and we could discuss it after.

Well, it's only a three-minute interview.

Well, I'd love to do it.

Tell him I'll do it whenever it's convenient for him.

Good.

Well, now that that's taken care of...let's get back to class.

You have last week's assignments in front of you

and I think I have graded them rather generously.

B minus?

As I say, John, I think I have graded them rather generously.

Mary Ellen, what's the point in putting that in right now?

Because it makes the boat look nice.

But when you paint all around it's gonna get all smeared up.

-Ben, you're so logical. -And you act just like a girl.

-That's because she is one. -Why do girls stick together?

-Well, we need to. -What for?

Because....

I don't know. Mary Ellen said so.

Heave ho, me hearties! And wet them all over.

And a bottle of the recipe for the launching.

Oh, you've changed your tune, old man

but I've known all along they'd get this boat in order.

Esther, for your faith in this project

I will carve a figurehead and use you as a model.

Oh, stop that. You've got a nasty mind, old man.

My intention was to carve you with your dress and apron on.

Look to your own mind.

Hey, Daddy, what time is Jason coming home? We need his help.

Early, I guess. He had something to do.

-Let's go ask John-Boy. -Okay.

-Come on. -Yeah.

I'm staying here.

Hey, John-Boy! John-Boy!

Hey, John-Boy, are you deaf?

No, but I will be if you don't stop hollering like a banshee.

-Come on, we need your help. -What for?

There's still some painting to be done. You're the captain.

-Sorry. -Sorry about what?

I'm busy.

John-Boy, you've been saying that all week.

I'm sorry, but that's the way it is.

I have a radio speech to get ready. I have galleys to read.

If you don't help us finish, you're off the boat.

No more sailing privileges.

Ben, that is just childish nonsense.

Now stop bothering me.

Now who's gonna be captain?

-Me. -Me.

How about my giving you a hand?

-Sure, Grandpa, here. -Great.

For the first time in long years, I'd like to give a hand

on John-Boy's bottom.

I know he's acting foolish but

he's been writing practically since he could walk

with no encouragement.

He's riding a little high. He'll come down to earth.

He'll come down with a thump if he doesn't watch out.

* My wife and I lived all alone *

* In a little log hut we called our own *

* She loved gin and I loved rum *

* Tell you we'd lots of fun *

* Ha ha ha you and me *

* Little brown jug don't I love thee *

* Ha ha ha you and me *

* Little brown jug don't I love thee *

* Ha ha ha you and me *

* Little brown jug don't I love thee *

* Ha ha ha you and me *

* Little brown jug don't I love thee *

-You got yourself a job, Jason. -You mean it?

Do I look like a fellow that says things he don't mean?

$3 a night anytime we play this area.

$3?

Okay, $3.50, but don't haggle on the bandstand.

It's not professional.

I Wish I Was Single Again.

* I wish I was single again *

* I wish I was single again *

* Cause when I was single my pockets would jingle *

* I wish I was single again *

Ike. Ike.

Yeah. I got it right here. Came in about a half hour ago.

Thank you.

It's blue.

Oh, Mama, it's beautiful.

It's so beautiful.

Look at that.

"Short stories. A collection by John Walton Jr."

This is for you, Ike.

I'd be proud to accept it.

Would you write your name inside it?

Of course.

And say something special, you know.

Alright.

That's right nice, John-Boy.

"To my friend, Ike Godsey.

"one of the people who made it possible

"for me to write these stories.

"Sincerely, John Walton Jr."

Well, it's the first one out of the box

and the first one I autographed

and the first of the first edition.

Thank you, Ike.

Bye-bye. Let's get these home. Bye-bye.

-Goodbye, Ike. -Bye, Olivia.

Thank you. Daddy, here they are! Grandma, Grandpa.

Look at this. Look at that.

-Well, look, at that. -Isn't that beautiful?

Isn't it beautiful?

My own words in print. It's such a strange thing.

Listen to this.

"At night, across Virginia

"across the old fought-upon earth

"there comes a sweet darkness

"that seeps down from the mountains

"and laden with the scent of dogwood

flows across the hills and into the valleys."

Here's a letter. Must be a covering letter.

Wait a minute. This can't be. This can't be right.

-What is it? -This is a bill.

This is a bill for $50.

Look, it says, "$50, cost of the entire first printing."

"Please remit. You may order more if you wish."

You mean they print 'em up, send 'em and charge for it?

It's a racket.

It's a racket. That's what it is.

Yes, a very slick contract, very slick.

Is it legal?

Couldn't be more so.

I hate to disappoint you, but this document is ironclad.

And Olivia's signature, as parent here, settles that.

Didn't anybody read this?

Well, I thought I did.

I wish you'd have brought this in before you signed it.

I could have told you there was a catch.

They can get away with that racket?

It's no racket, John.

You see, the name for this kind of publishing venture

is called a vanity press, and a good name it is, too.

You see, these printing houses, they appeal to the vanity

of anyone who is hankering to be published

and is willing to pay for it.

We didn't know anything about that.

We thought it was a legitimate publishing offer.

Did you get 50 books, bound and all?

-Properly bound? -Yes.

They lived up to their contract. You can't call that a racket.

Guffy's right. Nothing we can do except figure out how to pay.

Oh, no, Daddy. I'll take care of that.

I don't want the family paying for my vanity.

-Well, it was my fault. -Mama.

Once that letter came I would have

done anything to get those books.

And I guess that's just what those people count on.

You're busy thinking about your name on the spine of a book

you don't read the fine print. Daddy tried to tell us that.

I guess we all went overboard when we got that letter.

I just kept right on going, didn't I?

-Well, thank you, Sam. -You're welcome.

I guess I better take this home with me.

It'll do good to look at it from time to time.

The vanity press, they call it.

Well, the scriptures said it. "All is vanity."

Vanity. I don't know how many times I've told this family

never to sign anything unless a lawyer reads the fine print

upside down and inside out.

Lots of times, Pa.

Except I didn't hear you say anything the other day

when John-Boy was signing that contract right here.

Oh, stop it.

I wish he'd come out.

He hasn't budged from his room since we got back.

Embarrassed about facing all his friends at school.

I'll go fetch him.

No, leave him be. He needs to be alone right now, Pa.

Boat's almost painted.

-How's she look? -Come on out and see.

-Not now, Jason. -Oh, okay.

Daddy, can I use the truck again tonight?

Well, now what are you doing on the side?

Some sort of new romantic business, like bootlegging?

Zeb, hush up.

No, just someplace I have to go.

This is the third time this week, son.

I gotta ask you where you wanna go.

I have a job.

-A job? -What?

Mama, it's terrific.

I'm playing guitar and harmonica and singing

with Bobby Bigelow and the Haystack Gang.

-You're what? -For how long?

Well, I met this man at Ike's.

It was when Mama got the letter about John-Boy being published.

And, well, there was all that excitement about John-Boy, so--

What about this man you met?

He made me try out for Bobby Bigelow. And he liked me.

So I work for him whenever they play around here.

I get $3.50 a night.

Got almost $9 saved up.

Why did you keep it such a secret, Son?

Well, I tried to tell you a couple of times

well, everything was happening so fast with John-Boy

didn't want to steal his thunder.

-Jason. -It's okay.

Can I use the truck? I gotta be in Scottsville by 8:00.

-Why don't we all go along? -Would you like to?

It might be just what this family needs.

I'll get the kids all scrubbed up.

They must be covered with paint.

They are.

I think I'd like to ask John-Boy myself.

I wish you would, Jason.

John-Boy, it's me, Jase.

Come in? It's important.

Door's open.

John-Boy.

The family's going into Scottsville to hear me

where I'm working.

Where you're working?

I'm singing and playing with Bobby Bigelow.

Would you like to come along?

That's wonderful. When did that happen?

A couple of weeks ago.

-Why didn't you tell me? -Well, I tried to.

Yeah, I was just too busy thinking of myself

as the next Pulitzer Prize winner, wasn't I?

Come on with us.

I wouldn't miss it for the world, Jason.

-Good. I'll meet you downstairs. -I'll be there in a minute.

Okay.

-That's my grandson up there. -The reddish-haired one.

-His name's Jason. -A Walton.

Jason, been looking for you.

If I....

I guess I kind of overlooked you lately.

Not that I noticed.

I feel bad.

I was worried about John-Boy. He seemed so discouraged.

and then, when all that book business started

I guess I just didn't give much thought to other people.

Well, you can't be everywhere at once.

Jason.

I gotta get back to work now.

-John, you're late. -Yes, sir, I have to speak--

John, I want you to meet Timothy Collins.

Tim's the Roving Reporter and John Walton here is....

Well, I guess, a new star in the literary firmament.

-Excuse me, Mr. Collins-- -We're going, John.

Don't worry about a thing and don't be nervous.

Testing, one, two, three, testing.

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.

This is Timothy Collins, your Roving Reporter.

Our local luminary for this evening is a young man

who's destined for fame as a writer.

His name is John Walton Jr.

He's a freshman at Boatwright University

and he's already begun his career

as a professional writer.

His first book, a collection of short stories

is on its way to being published--

Excuse me, that isn't really true.

I mean, it's partly true, but....

Well, there's a lot more to it than that.

And everybody doesn't know the whole story about it.

Well, I've always wanted to be published, but....

I guess I've always dreamed about being published.

But it wasn't the publishing company that deceived me.

I really deceived myself.

I just became so self-important

that I really don't see how my family ever lived with me

or how my classmates could even put up with me.

And I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt.

My professor said once that

it's an arrogant thing to be a writer.

To think that you can create a world that's so interesting

that people will pay money to buy

your books or read your short stories.

So maybe I just got a little too arrogant.

I'd just like to say that it's a fine thing to be a writer.

There's a very secret and wonderful joy

when you put down a few words

that really say what you meant to convey in the first place.

And...I'm just gonna keep on trying.

Alright, everybody, upstairs and do your homework.

Come on, Elizabeth.

It was a nice talk, Son. You said some good things.

-Thank you. I meant them. -I'm sure you did.

These haven't been my best days, Daddy.

I know. Guess they're about over, though, huh?

Yes, they are.

The family's gonna be mighty pleased to hear that.

-Come on! Come on, John-Boy! -No!

-Come on! -Alright, I'm coming!

The scars of that first disappointment

were a long time in healing. But they did heal.

The best medicine, as always

was the sympathy and understanding of my family.

And a ridiculous little rowboat that went a long way

in helping me to forget.

JASON: John-Boy, now that I'm making money

I can help you out with that bill for the books.

JOHN-BOY: No, Jason. I'm gonna pay for that myself.

JASON: Sure now? Glad to help out.

JOHN-BOY: No, really, Jason. But thank you.

-John-Boy? -Uh-huh?

JASON: I'm kind of glad you didn't take me up on it.

-Goodnight, Jason. -Goodnight, John-Boy.