Original subtitles

There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man.

It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity.

It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and

superstition, and it lies between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his

knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination.

It is an area which we call the twilight zone.

I want Jake Ross's secretary, please.

Williams, we're still waiting for your Mr. Ross.

I'm trying to get him right now, sir.

Joanie, where is he?

I know he's out to lunch, but we had a conference call here for 2 o'clock. It's

now 2.30. Now, where is he?

All right, check around.

Call Sardi's Easter, the colony, and tell him to get himself over here in a

hurry.

So where is your protege with the $3 million automobile account?

He's due at any moment, Mr. Mizrell.

Probably a big lunch crowd or something. Don't be an idiot.

More likely a big martini. Or three or four of them.

He was too young to put on this account. I told you that, Williams.

I kept telling you that.

He's much too young to put on this large and important account.

We have now been here 34 minutes, Mr. Williams.

This is a communication from Jake Ross.

Would you be so kind as to share its contents with us?

I can give you the sense of it very quickly, Mr. Misrow.

This is Jake Ross's resignation.

He's moving over to another agency.

And?

And he's taking the automobile account with him.

That account represented a gross billing of something in the neighborhood of $3

million a year.

And how many times have you promised it to me?

This is as much a shock to me as it is to you, Mr. Misrell. Don't sit down.

And don't con me, Williams. It was your pet project.

Your pet project.

Then it was your idea to give it to that little college greenie.

Now get with it, Williams.

Get with it, boy.

So what's left, Williams?

Not only has your pet project backfired, but it's sprouted wings and left the

premises. I'll tell you what's left to us, in my view, a deep and abiding

concern about your judgment in men.

This is a push business, Williams.

A push, push, push business.

Push and drive.

But personally, you don't delegate responsibilities to little boys.

You should know it better than anyone else.

A push, push, push business, Williams.

It's push, push, push all the way, all the time. It's push, push, push all the

way, all the time, right on down the line. Fat boy, why don't you shut your

mouth?

Messages are on the desk.

And there's some hot coffee here. Can I bring you some? No, thanks.

Want anything at all?

Yeah.

A sharp razor and a chart of the human anatomy showing where all the arteries

are.

This is Gart Williams, age 38, a man protected by a suit of armor all held

together by one bolt.

Just a moment ago, someone removed the bolt, and Mr. Williams' protection fell

away from him and left him a naked target.

He's been cannonaded this afternoon by all the enemies of his life.

His insecurity has shelled him. His sensitivity has straddled him with

humiliation. His deep-rooted disquiet about his own worth has zeroed in on

him. landed on target and blown him apart.

Mr. Gart Williams, ad agency exec, who in just a moment will move into the

Twilight Zone in a desperate search for survival.

How are you tonight, Mr. Williams?

In the absolute pink.

Cold winter this year.

Seems to get darker earlier than it ever has.

Well, that's the way of the world.

Rich get richer, and the days get shorter.

That's right.

Now push, push, push, business.

Push and drive.

It's push, push, push all the way, all the time, right on down the line.

That's enough.

Willoughby, this stop is Willoughby.

Willoughby, this stop is Willoughby.

What do you mean, Willoughby?

Where's Willoughby?

That's Willoughby right outside.

Oh, wait a minute. What's going on?

There's no stop on this line called Willoughby.

And look at it outside.

The sun is out. It's summer.

That's what she is. Mid-July. A real warm one, too.

Wait a minute. It's November.

What's going on here anyway? It's November.

Where is this place? Where is Willoughby?

Willoughby, sir?

That's Willoughby right outside.

Willoughby.

July. Summer.

It's 1888.

Really a lovely little village.

You ought to try it sometime.

Peaceful. Restful.

Where a man can slow down to a walk and live his life full measure.

Willoughby. This stop is Willoughby.

Willoughby. Stoppage will abate.

Westport Saugatuck next stop. Westport Saugatuck.

Have a good sleep, Mr. Williams?

Yeah.

Yeah, I had a good sleep.

Well, an idiotic dream.

Idiotic.

You ever hear of a town called Willoughby?

Willoughby? Willoughby where?

Willoughby, Connecticut, I guess, or Willoughby, New York?

Not on this run.

No Willoughby on the line.

Westport Saugatuck next stop.

Westport Saugatuck.

And what are your plans for this evening?

To get quietly plastered and then sing old college songs?

It's been one of those days.

I know all about it. Bob Blair's wife called me.

She told me he'd been in the meeting with you.

You got hysterical or something?

Well, she called to find out how you were.

They were all very solicitous, all the boys at the meeting.

That... free-flowing compassion that is actually relief.

I'm the victim, not them.

They've mistaken an intake of breath for an outpouring of sympathy.

Would you spare me your little homilies now?

Please, and just give me a simple and direct and honest answer.

Did you wreck a career this afternoon? Did you throw away a job?

It appears not.

Mr. L phoned before I left the office.

He has found it in that great, oversized heart of his to forgive.

This somewhat obese, gracious gentleman will allow me to continue in his employ

because he's such a... human-type fella.

With the small, insignificant, parenthetic additional reason that if I

were to go to a competitive agency, I might possibly take a lot of business

with me.

Go on.

That's it.

That's all of it.

Oh, I'm tired, Janie.

I'm tired and I'm sick.

Well, then you're in the right ward.

We specialize in people that are sick and tired too, Gart.

I'm sick and I'm tired of a husband who lives in a kind of permanent self-pity.

A husband with a heart bleeding sensitivity that he unfurls like a flag

whenever he decides the competition is a little too rough for him.

Some people aren't built for competition, Janie.

Or big pretentious houses they can't afford.

Or rich communities they don't feel comfortable in.

Or country clubs they wear around their neck like a badge of status.

And you would prefer?

I would prefer, though never asked before, a job, any job, any job at all

where I could be myself.

Where I wouldn't have to climb on a stage and go through a masquerade every

morning at 9 o'clock.

And mouth all the dialogue and play the executive and make believe I'm the

bright young man who's on his way up because I'm not that person, Janie.

You've tried to make me that person, but that isn't me. That isn't me at all.

I'm... I'm a not very young, soon-to-be-old, very

uncompetitive, rather dull, quite uninspired, average-type guy.

With a wife who has an appetite.

And just where would you be if it weren't for my appetite?

I know where I'd like to be.

Where's that?

A place called Willoughby.

A little town I manufactured in a dream.

Well, tell me about your dream, Garth.

It's an odd dream.

Very odd dream.

Willoughby.

It was summer, very warm.

Kids were barefooted.

One of them had a fishing pole.

It all looked like a courier and Ives painting.

Bandstand, bicycles, wagons.

I've never seen such serenity.

It was the way people must have lived 100 years ago.

Crazy dream.

Yeah.

You let me know when you wake up, huh, Garth? No, wait a minute, Janie. Please,

Janie.

You know what the trouble with you is, Garth?

You were just born too late.

Because, you know, you're the kind of a guy that could be satisfied with a

summer afternoon or an ice wagon being drawn by a horse.

So it's my mistake, pal. My error.

My miserable, tragic error to get married to a man whose big dream in life

is to be Huckleberry Finn.

Yeah.

Maybe.

Something like that.

A place, a time where a man can live his life full measure.

That's what he said. That's what that conductor said.

A place where a man can live his life full measure.

Willoughby?

What? Last week you asked me about a town called Willoughby, Mr. Williams.

Well, I looked it up. Every old timetable I could find.

No such place far as I could see.

Thanks.

It was a dream, is all.

Probably was.

Stamford, next stop. Next stop, Stamford.

Stamford.

Stamford, next stop.

Stamford.

Next stop, Stamford.

Stamford, next stop.

Willoughby. The stop is Willoughby.

The stop is Willoughby.

Willoughby, sir.

Willoughby? Yes, sir.

Willoughby.

Willoughby. All out for Willoughby.

Willoughby. The stop is Willoughby.

Conductor?

Conductor?

You all right, Mr. Williams?

Yeah, yeah.

Sure, I'm all right.

Willoughby.

Next time.

Next time I'm going to get off.

I'm going to get off at Willoughby.

Take the audience by the ears and give them a gag.

Jar them, rock them. Give them the old push, push, push.

I understand, Mr. Misrell. Now it's got to be bright, Williams. Bright with

pattern. I'm trying to get... Comedy.

And everything push, push, push. Of course, sir. Now it's got to be bright,

Williams. Push, push, push.

That's the kind of a show the client will like. I understand, Mr. Misrell. I

understand. Tomorrow morning, Williams, I want at least a preliminary idea for

the show. You know what I want.

Just a rough format with a few...

Yes,

sir.

Yes.

Well, I haven't seen the ratings on the show.

No? No?

Well, that's the time slot the sponsor wanted.

Hang on a minute, will you?

Yes?

They what?

Hold on just a second. Helen!

Helen!

What film outfit did the commercials on the Bradbury account? The negatives are

all scratched. They're screaming bloody murder. I'll have to check it for you,

sir. Mr. Misrow would like to see you. I'll have to check it out for you here.

Mr. Misrow, sir.

I'll let you know when I know something. Mr. Williams.

Mr. Misrow seemed very insistent.

Mr. Williams.

Mr.

Williams. Mr.

Misrow.

Push, push, push, Williams. Push, push, push, Williams. Push, push, push,

Williams. Get with it, boy.

Will you give me Westport, Connecticut, please?

Capital 79899.

Yes, please.

Janie, this is Gart, honey.

I'm coming home.

Will you stay there?

I just... I just want you to stay there.

No, honey, listen, please.

I've had it, understand?

I've had it.

I just can't take this another day, not another hour.

This is it, right now.

I've got to get out of here.

Janie, will you help me, please?

Will you please help me?

Janie?

How are you tonight, Mr. Williams?

Stamford. Next stop, Stamford.

Next stop, Stamford.

Stamford, next stop.

Stamford.

Next stop, Stamford.

Next stop is Willoughby.

Willoughby. Stop is Willoughby.

Willoughby? Yes, sir.

Hi, Mr. Williams. Hi, boys.

You catch some big ones today, huh?

I think tomorrow I'll join you.

Plenty of room and lots of fish.

Hiya, Mr. Williams.

Welcome.

Thank you.

Thank you. I'm glad to be here.

Just jumped off the train, did he?

Shouted something about Willoughby, then ran out to the platform, and that was

the last I saw him.

Doctor says he must have died instantly.

They're gonna take him into town for an autopsy.

Funeral parlor there sent the ambulance.

Willoughby, maybe it's wishful thinking nestled in a hidden part of a man's

mind. Or maybe it's the last stop in the vast design of things.

Or perhaps for a man like Mr. Gart Williams, who climbed on a world that

went by too fast, it's a place around the bend where he could jump off.

Willoughby, whatever it is, it comes with sunlight and serenity and is a part

of the Twilight Zone.

Rod Serling, the creator of Twilight Zone, will tell you about next week's

story after this word from our alternate sponsor.

And now, Mr. Serling.

In this library, a certain professor sells things.

Ointments, salves, powders, sovereign remedies, nectars, concoctions,

decoctions, and potions all guaranteed.

Next week, he'll sell one to a lover boy so that he can slip an affectionate

Mickey into the champagne of his lady love.

It sets up a most bizarre and very unexpected chain of events.

On The Twilight Zone next week, The Chaser.

Kimberly Clark invites you to watch Steve McQueen in Wanted, Dead or Alive,

Saturday nights over most of these same stations.