Original subtitles

Good evening.

Since you're allowed to make yourself comfortable during our show,

I thought it only right that I be allowed to relax.

After all, the rules of television

seem weighed far too much in favor of the viewer.

You can relax in your home,

while I must stay here in this drafty studio.

I'm not feeling a bit well.

But the show must go on, whether you like it or not.

And tonight's show is called "The Indestructible Mr. Weems."

Have any luck? Hmm?

Oh, not bad, shot a 41 on the front nine, then a birdie three on...

No, I mean...

Not a nibble. You can't give them away.

You'd think we were stealing their money instead of doing them a favor.

We, Knights of the Golden Lodge,

pledge ourselves in brotherhood,

unstintingly, to help our fellow members

and those less fortunate than ourselves.

The board meeting of the Knights of the Golden Lodge

is now in session.

It distresses me to inform you

that after months of hard work by our sales committee,

we have yet to sell our first plot.

Well, maybe if we didn't call it a cemetery,

maybe if we called it something else,

like a resting place or something.

Point well taken, Brother Brodsky.

You will notice the tract is now officially referred to as Elysium Park.

Elysium is taken from the Greek, meaning "Paradise."

Quite appropriate, I think.

I remember when it was a golf course.

Shot an 81 there once.

The eighth green was a lulu.

Brother Elkins, I'm sure your golf score is of great interest.

But at the moment, we have more serious things to consider.

I merely want to impress you with the fact that our members

seem to be ignoring our unselfish efforts on their behalf.

Meanwhile, taxes and cost of upkeep continue to climb,

while the project remains a park,

instead of a final resting place

where our dear brothers may lie down

at the end of a weary journey.

Well, take it from me.

No one wants to be the first to lie down.

I beg your pardon?

Believe me,

no one's signing up until we've got a customer in the ground.

I believe Brother Brown has hit the nail on the head, gentlemen.

Yeah, he struck a nerve, all right.

When things are slow in used cars, I run a contest.

Now, suppose we give a plot away

as a door prize at the next Lodge dance?

There's a certain dignity in preparing for one's final confinement.

I find your suggestion highly revolting.

Sorry, I was just thinking out loud.

Any of you remember Clarence Weems?

Weems? Weems. Yeah.

I sold him a sedan six years ago.

He wears an upper plate. I made it.

Brother Weems. Yes.

Yes, a man in his declining years.

An auctioneer by trade, but a credit to the Lodge and to the community.

Yes, now that I recall,

he ceased being an active member over a year ago.

That's when he lost his wife.

Then his business went sour and he got sick.

He's kind of given up.

In fact, he isn't expected to live out the year.

Well, that's too bad.

But what has this to do with our immediate problem?

Suppose we make him a proposition?

Say we give him $50 a week, support him until the end.

In return, say he agrees to be our first customer.

Now, that wouldn't be charity.

We'd be giving him something, he'd be giving us something.

That's the answer!

Are you suggesting that we subsidize Brother Weems

if he agrees to be interred in our park?

Sure.

Are you positive

he's teetering on the edge of immortality?

Well, he's been in a sickbed for over a year.

He's practically got one foot in the grave.

Oh, I see.

Well, what have we got to lose?

$50 a week.

Yes, but think of the taxes and the upkeep.

I say let's give it a try! Me, too.

All right, gentlemen.

An emergency calls for extraordinary measures.

Suppose we look in on Brother Weems. Agreed?

Agreed!

A walk-up apartment?

Well, if he was a rich man, we wouldn't be here.

What floor, Harry?

Four.

Please, Daddy, try and rest.

Yes, dear, I will.

Hello.

Hello.

We're from the Lodge.

The Lodge?

Yes. Knights of the Golden Lodge.

I wonder if we might see Mr. Weems.

Oh, hi, Harry. I didn't see you. Come in, please.

Laura, this is Mr. Stone, Dr. Elkins and Mr. Brodsky.

How do you do? How do you do?

Harry, you're coming by later to take me to the movie, aren't you, darling?

I mean, I asked Mrs. Collins from down the hall to come and sit with Daddy.

Of course, it was a promise.

Oh, good.

I'll tell my daddy that you're here.

I didn't know you were so friendly with Miss Weems.

Oh, we've known each other for a long time.

Are you engaged?

Well, in a manner of speaking.

We were supposed to be married last December,

but the wedding's had to be postponed.

Brother Brown, exactly what caused the postponement?

We're not in the Lodge now. Call me Harry.

We're on Lodge business, though.

I repeat, why is the wedding being postponed?

You can come in now.

Oh, this way, gentlemen. This way.

You remember these gentlemen, Mr. Weems.

Lodge members.

I didn't know you were all on the convalescent committee.

Well, we're not exactly...

That must be Mrs. Collins now.

I just want to tell her when to give you your medicine.

Excuse me.

She's a good girl. Can't do enough for me.

Well, maybe I won't be a burden to her much longer.

So you've come to cheer a sick man up, have you?

Well, you've come to the wrong place.

I can't stand do-gooders, sympathy or long faces.

All I ask is that you have a good time at the wake.

Brother Weems, you sound like a practical man.

That's why I don't think you'll take offense at what we have to say.

Ah, got something up your sleeve, have you?

No, just an honest business proposition.

I lost my business, lost everything.

You see, the Lodge is willing to give you $50 a week, until...

Well, until the end comes.

I don't need charity. Laura works in the library. We get along.

That's not charity, Mr. Weems. You'd be earning it.

That's right. You see, the Lodge recently purchased a tract of land

and converted it into a final resting place for the members.

We call it Elysium Park.

That's just a fancy name for a graveyard.

It's attractively landscaped and ideally located.

Your real estate office handle the deal?

What?

Well, yes, we did select the land.

The point is, if you'll agree to be interred there,

the Lodge will continue paying you until the time comes.

Having trouble selling the plots, huh?

They're not exactly busting down the doors.

My grandmother believed in the wee people and the leprechauns,

but I can't afford to be superstitious.

I'm overdue now.

They used to say in the old days,

"Going, going, gone."

Then you'll accept our offer?

It has the sound of an honorable arrangement.

Good.

We took the liberty of having some papers drawn up.

Afraid I wouldn't live out the day, huh?

My glasses.

Oh, here, let me help.

Thank you.

I think you'll find it all there.

Your obligation to us, our obligation to you.

The starting and the end.

This clause A here, "Party of the first part,"

that's you. Mmm-hmm.

"...agrees to pay party of the second part," that's me,

"the agreed upon sum of money."

It doesn't say anything about how much I'm supposed to get.

Oh? That is an oversight.

Better write it in and initial it.

So long as it's on paper,

we might as well spell it out so everyone can understand.

Oh, absolutely.

Now, if you'll just sign here.

Done.

Thank you.

Yeah. This will be a blessing to Laura.

Now that she knows I'll be taken care of,

she can give up her job and get married.

I think we'd better be getting back.

Goodbye, Mr. Weems.

I could stay until Laura gets back.

No.

Goodbye, Mr. Weems.

Take good care of yourself.

Goodbye.

We might look in on you now and then, if you don't mind.

Don't bother. Just read the obituary columns.

Your copy. I've already signed.

Goodbye, Brother Weems.

Goodbye.

Very convenient. Now you can go ahead and marry that girl.

It just worked out that way.

What difference does it make?

From what I've seen, it looks like a good investment.

A week, maybe a month.

Then we can unload every plot in the park.

Mr. Weems.

Come in, Mrs. Collins.

I thought you might like some chicken broth.

Thanks. But I don't feel like chicken broth.

I feel like something more substantial.

Maybe roast beef or even a steak.

But Dr. Allen said...

Oh, bother Dr. Allen.

You know, Sarah, you're a handsome-looking woman.

Why, Mr. Weems, what's come over you?

You never noticed me that way before.

It's time I did.

And, Sarah, one thing more.

Yes, Mr. Weems?

Call me Clarence.

Yes, Mr. Weems.

I mean, Clarence.

I hear you're getting married next month.

Looks that way.

Do you know anything about this?

It looks like an application for active membership in the Lodge.

It's from Clarence Weems.

He also sent six months' dues.

Maybe he feels obligated.

When he goes, he wants to go out as an active member.

Well, I see no signs of his going.

For an invalid who's supposed to have one foot in the grave,

he seems to be possessed of remarkable stamina.

It's only been three weeks.

Yes, and I've trudged up those four flights every week,

and each time he looks just the same.

I saw him.

Plain as day, I saw him.

Saw who?

Clarence Weems.

I was on the ninth hole in the public park.

He was taking a walk, and he wasn't alone.

He was with a woman.

Well, maybe it was someone who looked like him.

No. It was him. He even waved at me.

Well, there's one way to find out just what's going on.

He looked very healthy.

Coming, gentlemen?

Oh, yes! Yes.

Oh, hello, Mr. Stone.

Is your father home?

Oh, he's taking a nap now. The doctor doesn't want him disturbed.

Has he... Has he been out of the house today?

I'm sorry, I just got in.

Why don't you come by tomorrow and ask him yourself?

And, Harry, don't forget we have an appointment with Reverend Newton tomorrow.

I'll tell my daddy you dropped by to see him.

Bye.

Why, you're practically one of the family,

and that's the sort of treatment we get.

Please, the man's resting.

I tell you, it was him I saw.

So? A man has a right to walk in the sunshine. It may be his only chance.

Not when it's costing us $50 a week.

To say nothing of the taxes and upkeep on the property.

Maybe he's just holding out long enough,

just to see his daughter married.

It's only human.

All right. That's one month from now.

In the meantime, I suggest we keep an eye on Mr. Weems.

Enjoy yourselves.

Oh, good evening, Brother Evans.

Nice to see you, Mrs. Evans.

Looks like it's a big night for the Lodge.

Yes. Go right in.

It's a source of great satisfaction

to see our fellow members turning out.

Good evening, gentlemen. I want you to meet Mrs. Collins.

Her late husband used to be a member.

I told her about you.

She thinks it's real nice of you

to take such an interest in me.

That'll be two tickets, thank you.

I'm sorry I was resting the last two times you dropped by.

But you just keep coming.

You never know when you'll catch me up.

I haven't been to a Lodge dance in over two years.

Get Brown and Elkins right away.

I'm calling an emergency board meeting.

Yeah. Yeah.

They're coming.

I just saw him.

I tell you, I just saw Clarence Weems big as life.

And he had that same woman with him.

Your powers of observation are remarkable.

Gentlemen, a fraud has been perpetrated on this Lodge,

a bare-faced fraud. And he did it.

I didn't know he was coming here.

I'm not talking about just that.

It's all clear now. Everything.

You talked us into this scheme

just so you could marry that daughter of his.

Now Weems is self-supporting.

Now he's no longer a burden to her.

Why, the Lodge is practically financing the wedding.

And the honeymoon.

I won't listen to such lies,

not from somebody who practically stole money from the Lodge.

What? Yes!

Your real estate firm got the commission

for selling the cemetery to the Lodge.

I heard you admit it to Mr. Weems.

That was merely a coincidence!

Please, please, we're all Lodge brothers here.

Now, nobody's accusing anybody of anything.

He did! He said I made it all up!

I can prove what I said about Mr. Weems being a very sick man.

Well then, somebody better tell Mr. Weems.

Why, he's already entered himself in the cha-cha contest.

If you want an affidavit, ask the doctor.

That where you got it from?

He as much as said Mr. Weems wouldn't be with us much longer.

Well, we're wasting time. Why don't we talk to him?

That's one way to find out who's telling the truth.

All right, all right.

We'll all go see his doctor. Is everyone agreed?

Agreed.

Fine. All right, take it easy, Cato.

Now, sit down, sit down. Sit down.

Cool off.

Would anyone like some coffee?

No, thank you.

Sugar, cream?

You told the doctor to expect us?

Yes.

Oh, I'll tell the doctor that you're waiting.

Well, it's nice to know that Clarence has so many friends

who worry about him.

Yes.

We'd like to know just how he's coming along.

I can understand your concern.

Clarence told me about your generous financial arrangement.

Sort of an insurance policy in reverse,

with the death benefits going to the company.

I admit it sounds crazy,

but it seemed like a good idea at the time.

At the time, perhaps it was.

They think I made it all up.

I believe I can tell you what you want to know,

without violating my patient's confidence.

If you could just tell us what his chances are.

There's more to it than that.

It takes something out of a man

when he loses his wife and then his business.

Clarence let himself get run down,

he seemed to be wasting away.

He gave up completely,

and he waited for the inevitable.

Yes, Clarence was a very sick man.

But what was this miracle that changed all of this?

The miracle was you, gentlemen.

You gave Clarence something that medical science could not provide.

You gave him a reason and a will to live.

A lifetime annuity is a challenge to any man.

Congratulations, gentlemen. You've brought a dying man back from the grave.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll get back to the hospital.

Well, there's nothing more we can do here.

Oh, are you gentlemen leaving?

Don't you want to see my father?

No, thank you.

Coming?

I think I'll just stay and finish my coffee.

He might outlive us all.

Maybe we could sell the land for a housing tract,

or a golf course.

Not while Clarence Weems is an active member of this Lodge!

He swore a solemn oath to uphold the best interests of the Lodge.

Well, he's not doing it.

He's depriving his fellow members

of the ultimate benefits of Elysium Park.

We'll appeal to him in the sacred name of the Lodge.

If he has one spark of decency left, he's got to listen to us.

Asking a man to die as a duty to his Lodge,

that's asking a lot.

My intention is not quite that drastic.

We'll ask him to tear up the contract for the sum of, say, $500.

Agreed?

Agreed. Agreed.

Agreed.

He's got to listen to reason!

We'll blackball him from the Lodge if he refuses.

Careful, Clarence, you might strain yourself.

I used to lift pianos.

I'll have it in your apartment in a jiffy.

Look! He's as strong as an ox!

Stone!

Hey.

Well, he's as white as a ghost!

Hey, here comes Doc Allen. Hurry up, Doc. Come on up. Quick.

Come on, Doc.

He just looked up and passed out.

I'm afraid he's gone. It's his heart.

He shouldn't have been climbing these stairs week after week.

The poor, dear man.

So young to die.

It was a sweet thought, your giving that poor, dear man

the very plot they gave to you.

It was the least I could do.

He tried dreadful hard to make a success of this place.

Relatives and good friends of Cato Stone...

There.

I think that proves that we can be as sunshiny as anyone.

Clarence and the widow Collins lived happily ever after.

And in desperation, the trustees finally converted their park

into a track for dog racing.

It proved more popular than a cemetery, and rather profitable, too.

One of the consolations of being ill

is the gifts one receives.

One of my dear friends sent me this. Solid oak.

Silver handles, too.

Apparently, the donor wishes to remain anonymous.

The card is unsigned.

Very nice.

But I better not overtax myself.

Until our next visiting hours, then.